Send "The Internet " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Sputnikmusic |
 As I approach a new Odd Future release I find myself readying the proverbial grain of salt, and while I’m well aware of why that is the case, I find myself wondering if the more violent and bombastic tendencies of Tyler and, to a lesser extent Earl, have done more damage than good to the reputation of the collective not as a whole, but to its more conscious leaning alumni. That The Internet (Syd Tha Kid and Matt Martians) will undoubtedly be tarred with the same brush as their more journalist-baiting cohorts is of little surprise, but being guilty by association unfortunately places this sub-group into a position where it becomes increasingly difficult to remain objectified when discussing them. Outside of possibly Frank Ocean, by the group’s own hand has their reputations preceded them, and by comparison those same fans who became riveted by a young African-American who proceeded to hang himself to the soundtrack of his own apocalyptic hip hop hangover won’t find much to rave about with the neo-soul doldrums and blunted r&b that The Internet employs so readily.At its most obvious Purple Naked Ladies is an album that tries to assimilate the more thoughtful soul poetry of Sade and Erykah Badu into the laptop culture of the present day, and while from a strictly musical perspective it manages to capture the attitude of repressed feminist identity, when the album speaks it just doesn’t really have anything grandiose to say. It seems to go to great lengths to avoid saying anything that could be interpreted as a statement. There’s loose generalizations aplenty, and while Syd (who handles the primary vocals) occasionally hits the mark from a racial and sexual point of view, too often does the album fail to provide worthy commentary on anything truly exceptional. Track names like ‘She DGAF’ and ‘ Cunt’ seem pre-loaded with the kind of juvenile ferocity one would expect as commonplace from this brat pack consortium, but there’s a clear lack of follow-through, as if any and all punches this album could have pulled have been deliberately held back in fear of certain one-sided comparisons. The production suffers a similar fate as well, simply because it attempts to cover ground that at times seems far too obviously out of reach for this young duo. It’s essentially a soul album of sorts, more of the acid variety due to its blunted aesthetic and tendency to wander rather than fixate on any cemented position. But when it awkwardly segues between moments of futurist symphony and tumbling blocks of Jazz-like improvisation it only ends up feeling incredibly forced, as if the duo felt the need to bring every one of their influences into the album. And while that certainly makes for interesting listening, it’s less creative and more over indulgent. Which is really the main problem surrounding the entirety of the OF collective; as a group of young musicians (in age and musical careers), they’ve yet to master the ability of refinement and structure. Far too often do the tracks here wander far beyond their borders, and perhaps in more experienced hands they could have been salvaged by expertly roping them back into submission, but whether these discourses were an intended design or not, Syd & Matt simply aren’t adept enough at hitting us with such an “artful” schtick....full text |
| Avclub |
| Great neo-soul balances bump against drift—rhythmic pulse vs. coasting ambiance—and even when things get weird, it is beholden to that almighty groove. But Purple Naked Ladies, the debut album by Odd Future R&B spin-off The Internet, sounds like it’s running diagonally over the works. A woozy swirl of exotica, elevator music, Soulquarian psych, and Sade, the record is a mess—sometimes lovely, but a mess all the same. Beat-anchored reveries like “The Garden” and “Web Of Me,” whose surging density recalls Dan The Automator’s best electronic blues, get the mix right, with Syd Tha Kyd’s husky, disembodied coo sticking to goopy, synth-heavy tracks (co-produced by Syd and Matt Martians) like resin to the inside of a bong. Elsewhere, the pair’s chemistry is unstable. Pretty as it is, “They Say/Shangrila” feels watery, like it’s floating a few feet above the drums. “She Dgaf” rides in on an easy bossa-nova lilt, but is soon knocked sideways by a flurry of lo-bit bass hits. And the tempo-hopping space odyssey of “Cunt” should’ve been split into three demos, then whittled into one song. ...full text |
| Spin |
| This slippery debut from Odd Future's Syd the Kyd and Matt Martians embarks on a journey into Twilight Zone pop, with a lovelorn story arc that transitions from giddy crushing ("They Say") to it's-over melancholia ("The Garden"). Syd's voice, tempered with light vibrato, is reservedly sensual, and deepens the album's textures, which are psychedelic, loose, yet technically proficient. The duo dabbles in stuttering, outré hip-hop beats, as well as free-wheeling jazz — Aquemini isn't too far off as a touchstone, but neither is Brazilian jazz jewel Flora Purim, or even Herbie Hancock (on the politely truncated "C*nt"). Certain guest raps from kewpie-sounding cutie pies bring the duo's more advanced tendencies back to earth, or at least to the double-dutch cipher. But with increased confidence, these nascent super-producers could forge a new path for tripped-out, sparked-up music that'll get you lifted and uplifted....full text |
The Internet lyrics
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