Delayed for over a year and generally mishandled by Warner Brothers, this album feels like an artifact from a trend long since abandoned by all but the most faithful. And that's a shame. Rick Rock's production bursts at the seams, stringing near chaotic synth work over that producer's typically slap-happy bass sound for an intensely jittery brew of art funk. The emcees are content to play their roles as court jesters for hip-hop's short bus, and their verses are unrelentingly nonsensical and stupid. This is the sound of your brain cells melting.