The discovery of an abandoned boom box on a city street would be expected to spew the visceral beats that Rafter creates, his low-fi in approach oddly animated in presence, but infectious none-the-less.
Sex Death Cassette, the third release from Rafter Roberts, is a one-man music factory that exudes energy and fascination in beats, rhythms and grooves, most ideas emerging from the ether with alleyway panache, before disappearing just short of two minutes. Time and time again, Rafter teases, injecting just enough to beg addiction, then withdrawing without hesitation, an Indian-giver of the highest caliber. “Love Time Now Please” rides a bottom lure fitted with horned twine, baiting the masses with lyrical acrobatics, much like the spitfire “Chances,” which is certainly worth the risk. Cresting bass runs and crystalline keys float on “Breeze,” a spirited swell that laps against the shore.
Rafter may be just one man, but this one man makes beats aplenty. In fact, Rafter’s broken down boom box doesn’t need any radio signal to draw a hell of a low-fi pop party. All it needs is Sex Death Cassette.
.jpg)
The discovery of an abandoned boom box on a city street would be expected to spew the visceral beats that Rafter creates, his low-fi in approach oddly animated in presence, but infectious none-the-less.
