Whilst Doseone's fallen far enough to go hanging his ass out in The Wire (no,
like, literally), the lyricist who birthed the best damn disc in this whole extended
Anticon acktion — Josh Martinez, a Canadian cat whose real name is something
far less funky — finally returns, three long years after authoring his amazing Made
in China longplayer, with a new album to remind cats why this whole witty-riff-on-hip-hop
thing seem'd so damn'd charmed back in that first place of those early days. Buck
Up Princess is an ongoing sprawl featuring, seemingly, everything he's been
doing in the time b'tween albums, which means it's all a little hard to take
in in a single session, even if Martinez's delivery makes his songs come across
with charm'd ease. Martinez resides in the realms of straight out "best" b'cause
he's blessed with a voice that innately gives him a signature style; his high,
melodic, raw-throated, swiftly-syncopated musings deliver lyrics with distinctive
clarity, such easily-decipherable lyrical tangles traipsing through easy emo(tional)
honesty, self-deprecating comedy, and an occasional yen for abstract storytelling.
As he wanders along, Martinez doesn't stay far from the path whacked in the weeds
by his fellow deep-as-an-ocean Nova Scotian/Nova Scotia escapee Buck 65, spinning
his thoughtful lyrical tangles over tracks plied with warmth, piled high with
murky beats and twangy acoustic guitars and tuneful pianos. And, just as his
boy Buck — for whom, you'd guess, this title is either affectionate shout-out
or a cute kick-in-the-pants — was inspired by meeting Parisian people-of-the-streets
on his Talkin' Honky Blues, and just as his collectivist Canadian comrades
1200 Hobos have long made like they're riding the rails of itinerant tall-tale
storytelling, on this disc Josh crafts an ode called "Hobo's Lullaby." To be
honest, such a standout song is less notable for its subject matter than it is
notable for being a number of beaming wonder, going alongside the heartbroken
breakup song "Breakdown" at the apex of Martinez's output. And comparing his
two most amazing musical moments thus far also shows the difference b'tween his
prior album and this one. Where the last disc was born of self-analysis, self-obsession,
and dear-diaryist confession, Buck Up Princess finds Martinez looking
more at the world around him than the world within him — concerned with
the historic character of cities, musing on the misguided egos growing from minor-league
fame, and, well, he also lets himself talk about the weather. And "Hobo's Lullaby" is
where this all-grown-up looking around hits paydirt, although maybe that's just
b'cause the music's so amazing. The tuneful production — by the heretofore
unheard-of Dren — is filled with such memorable melody, cut-up acoustic
guitars and a pseudo-country lilt lingering over busy beat-loops whose smoky
chug approximates the rhythms of locomotive motion; Martinez matches such with
his softly-singing/half-spoken double-time rhymes, which manage to make a most
memorable chorus out of the sing-song "Day-old donuts and cans of beans/ Dumpster
chicken and river greens/ Hopping on trains with Lysol for wine/ It's just another
drink 'til the end of the line." This song also commences with one of the numerous
bits of "Ghost World" dialogue that litter the disc — most of which, truth
be told, are basic comic riffs around the joke that the guy in the film-of-the-book
was also called Josh, even though the one where the film's Enid says, in sample, "I
think Josh is becoming too mature for us" shows that Martinez is well aware he's
growing up, personally and, in turn, musically, too.
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