Photo from Highlander News

Thundercat is the rare musical prodigy where 1) the word prodigy actually applies to his genius, 2) the often random fusion of genres and philosophical musings is purposeful, and 3) his persona aligns right up with the music he makes. It has not only been a pleasure to listen to an album that encapsulates exactly how a solo late night, drug-addled high surrounded by postmodern literature and flashing background images of Dragon Ball Z feels or sounds like, but one written by someone whose pinned tweet is, “I‰’m getting tired of my dick touching these toilet rims out here in Europe. Seriously.‰Û

If Drunk, a 23-track odyssey, were written by someone else, it would be described as scattered, far-reaching, overly indulgent, a try-hard. The album somehow is able to cover musings on racial tensions, loneliness, heartbreak, and the everything that exists in between. The in between humorous, often absurd, moments that reference anything from anime to his cat are contextualized through his heavy handed, omnipresent talent and penchant for musical juxtaposition. Thundercat, or otherwise called Stephen Bruner, seamlessly manages to address every after-party musing you have and packages it in rooted rhythms and smooth melodies, his background in jazz, punk, hip- hop, funk, and more shining through each moment. You feel embalmed in a heavy fog of Thundercat‰’s distinctive funk, a kind of musical bleariness that evaporates as soon as you hear his voice emerges.

There are characteristic tinges of humor and self-deprecation that prevent a complete breakdown on the difficulty of just being alive. Drunk launches its existentialism from the dreamy and whimsical falsettos of songs like “The Turn Down‰” to the ‰well, what now‰’ feeling after a long night out in “Drink Dat.‰” Bolstering appearances from artists like Pharrell and Kendrick Lamar, the album blends together genres effortlessly for something that sounds undeniable historically rooted and completely new. Drunk is the giggle you let out after the two-minute cry you have, but also the red-eyed high you‰’re always chasing to replicate.