La Rat

𝘾𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙤𝙪𝙡, 𝙥𝙨𝙮𝙘𝙝 𝙧𝙞𝙛𝙛𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙮 𝙗𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙠𝙨, 𝙇𝙖 𝙍𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙬-𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙞𝙥-𝙝𝙤𝙥 𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙛𝙪𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙣𝙤𝙙𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙪𝙙𝙜𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙚.

Equal parts beat tape and abstract rap album, the eight-track project blends boom bap swing with smoky atmospherics and subversive cuts. It’s a soundtrack for wet asphalt, blinking neon, and cassette tape hiss, stitched together with sharp-tongued verses and a crate-digger's ear for deep, soulful loops.

References drift in and out like signal from a late-night pirate radio: Pauline Oliveros' deep listening ethos meets the chaos-scratch of Rammellzee, Georgia O’Keeffe’s soft geometry sits beside a grimy psych riff, and echoes of Latin grooves simmer beneath dusty breakbeats. Think mutant jazz-hop, outsider funk, and smoky collage-core rap with an attitude.

With La Rat firmly behind the boards and a wordsmith who treats every line like a cut-and-paste manifesto, this is experimental hip-hop that doesn’t announce itself as such—it just rides, sharp and sideways.