The abyss of hip-hop production

Hanz, the stand-out North Carolinian producer from the underground hip-hop scene, released Plasty II, the follow-up to January’s Plasty I, on March 23. Even though he emerged into the music scene as Madbearhanz in 2012, Brandon Juhans was always interested in experimentation in art. He started out as an abstract illustrator but has since moved on to expressing himself through music production. Signed to Tri Angle, which houses artists like Clams Casino and serpentwithfeet, Hanz continues to create divergent hip-hop instrumentals that have earned respect from the likes of Bjork. Hanz explains in an interview with Bandcamp that the Plasty EP’s were meant to be a puzzle. “I chopped my own songs up. I took complete songs and destroyed them. I glued pieces of one song into another song. I just scattered it,” says Hanz.

If Plasty I was the fall into a surreal rabbit hole, Plasty II is the nightmarish realm that listeners find themselves in after the dive. The EP’s opener, “Number One Stain,” starts out with distant snaps followed by rumbling bass that starts and stops harshly. A spine-tingling hum takes over as the snaps disappear for just a second. By the time all three play together, they are joined by a hodgepodge of quick samples to create a nasty cacophony of sound. “Number One Stain” unsettles its listeners even further with a reverb-y vocal sample and electric buzzes, making it clear it has no plans for normalcy.

As Plasty II shifts into “The Approach” and “Psychic Dog,” the grittiness of its opener is joined by more ethereal synths and light, dreamy hums. “The Approach” combines a violent and punchy beat with distorted shouts and a light chime. Its intensity wavers only for a second at a time, barely letting listeners catch their breath from its relentlessness. The beautiful jazzy drum beat lays well with the airy synths and indiscernible vocal samples from “Psychic Dog,” creating a sensual track without any words mentioned at all, let alone lewd ones. The peppering of flute melodies only elevates the hip-hop beat even further.

“Fifty Yard Stare” brings the intensity levels back to maximum capacity, with a pounding beat much like a hangover headache. Hanz uses a scrambled vocal sample over familiar-sounding synths to make a comical beat that sound far different from the relaxed synths that sandwich it. Layered metallic clacking reminiscent of swords being drawn, wielded, and fought with, Hanz displays his prowess for the art of recycling music.

Though every song on Plasty II has the ability to drop jaws, “Three Min Surgery” does so with such finesse and elegance that it stands out from the rest. It builds upon a gorgeous hip-hop beat with record scratches, ambient ringing, light clacking and various other samples. The beat eventually completely stops and is replaced by an impossibly-fast drum beat, garnished with muffled bells ringing sourly in the background. When the beat switches once again into a heart-racing dance rhythm, it continues to be textured with twinkling harps, abstract vocal samples and electronic whirls. Though Hanz is pulling from what seems to be a bottomless cornucopia of samples and audio textures, “Three Min Surgery” never feels cluttered nor haphazard. Rather, each sound works unexpectedly well together, creating a multifaceted new product.

Hanz closes out Plasty II with “Clutched,” where a vocal sample of someone talking is layered in a way to make it sound like rap. The tropical percussion eventually shifts into a windy atmospheric hum, a beautifully quick divergence before “Clutched” heads back to its hard-hitting hip-hop beat. The lo-fi noisiness of Plasty II’s closer combines both the anxiety of the screeching noises and the trance of the synths, mixing together all of the emotions that are associated with each of the noises. As the beat quiets out and all that is left is the windy atmospheric hum and a quick vocal sample at the end, it is unclear what Hanz has left listeners to feel; all that is certain is the intensity of said feeling.

Though Plasty I wears its hip-hop foundations proudly on its avant-garde sleeve, Plasty II dives into industrialism, letting the grittiness of Hanz’ production take the foreground. This isn’t to say that Plasty II has bifurcated itself from hip-hop. On the contrary: it layers so many complex textures over its lo-fi hip-hop beats and drapes itself in so much ambient noise that simply calling it experimental hip-hop is a disservice to its originality.