Emcees don't make seven-minute jams unless they've got something to prove. I know I would never let someone talk to me for seven minutes straight, uninterrupted, under any normal set of conditions (that's why I dropped out of school). Fortunately, Lif is banking on creating something a tad more engaging than a three-hour Introduction to Silt Processing lecture, and succeeds beautifully with an epic fusion of old-school funk, futuristic soul, and kickass post-rock pacing. Rather than bear the burden of the song entirely on his ability to spit (which, though quite strong, would've undoubtedly collapsed from strain), Lif has the humility to step back a bit and let El-P's production have some limelight.

It's common knowledge by now that El-P makes ridiculous beats out of drag-racing and fire-stortion, but who knew he could do melody, too? Sampled horns and ambient tones help color the drum loops, steadily evolving over the course of the track. The chorus is like Alvin & The Chipmunks-turned-Jackson-5-cover-band being drowned in a symphonic nightmare of synthesizer feedback. (This is actually a compliment of the highest regard.) Moments like this only serve to highlight Mr. Lif's witty and inventive lyrics. Throughout the snaking beat, Lif comments on such eclectic topics as the state of hip-hop ("Hip-hop is so wack the beats are fighting back") and time travel ("I drop dime on how to travel back in time so they could misalign the pioneers' pattern to rhyme"), all the while maintaining a clarity and charisma that keeps things accessible. Easily the most enjoyable epileptic seizure you're likely to have outside of Japanese television.