In a world of swirling disevolution, it's nice to know some things never change. This music and its culture, out culture, is older than most of us who carry its torch. Thus, one must question "progression" when it seems to be taking us farther and farther away from the point. Some things are so fundamental to an art form that true-schoolisms, they are the very rules by which we define our music. Sampling is not "old school", it is our medium; as a sculptor uses clay, or a painter uses paint, we use old records to make our music. Lyrics don't necessarily have to be anything. Diamond D still goes on and on like popcorn and it's still classic. Scratching, no matter how fast or turntablist, still sounds best easy and on beat. The rules never change. Thus , we present to you another album, just like the first two: not old school or mid school or underground or breakbeat or true school. Just good old hip hop.

Somewhere along the way it seems most critics decided that just making Hip Hop was not good enough, and praises were hailed upon those who were "experimental" and "progressive". Yet while everyone spun out towards the fringe, a void was created in the center; a timeless origin where dope beats and rhymes are simply good enough. As major artists traded in their DJ's and turntables for backing bands and backup singers, underground hip hop became a symbol of suburban rebellion across the internet. Our hip hop became sterile, timid and tired, weird, conscious, light, sassy, scientific, vegetarian, teenage angst ridden, or whatever - pick your cliche. It rarely is just for the sake of being. We seem to have gone from the Boom Bip to squigadammmm yoink chomp, and worse yet, many of us are patting ourselves on the back for it. It seems that in the infinite pursuit of progression, some have forgotten to acknowledge the past.