This is a pretty big deal, Boston. Black Milk is kind of a miraculous anomaly in hip-hop, commanding respect from the lowest depths of underground notoriety to the cheesiest heights of commercial acclaim. He's the sort of double threat who cats like Kanye sweat so hard that their pants stink - an MC-producer who summons nostalgia from the best of both coasts, not to mention his own city of Detroit, which dude holds down like a crime boss.
If anyone out there is still sleeping on Milk (who's coming through with a live band), the autobiographic track embedded below is a pretty solid primer - and a tremendous song at that. Listen closely to how the organic horns and heavy bass melt into the synthetic backdrop - that's the sound of old school aesthetics meeting new school ideals in a dirty motel room and knocking boots until adorable babies pop out of extraterrestrial orifices. In short - this is one of the few rap shows all year where hardcore heads and trend-riding co-eds will bop with equal zeal. Be there or be a fucking no-taste douchebag.