Less inspired by the Wim Wenders film than the idea of juxtaposing disparate elements, Paris Texas are a mysterious, niche-y duo from LA who combine hip-hop with guitars. Rap-rock is, of course, best left to Rage Against the Machine, but today’s post-genre climate means that anything goes, providing it goes right. And Louie Pastel and Felix – no surname provided – have hit on a taut, freeform sound that combines rapped vocals with left-field sonics and punk-adjacent brio.
The result is a full-length debut that is acerbic, vulnerable and swaggering all at the same time. Odd Future are a viable reference point, as are Death Grips, Clipping and King Krule, but Paris Texas still sound like a blast of fresh air. “There’s people tryna kill me, other than me,” notes a song called Everybody’s Safe Until…, to a bass throb and a popping guitar line. A track called Lana Del Rey recalls the Stooges, with icy synths and yelped punchlines (LDR, of course, has a song called Paris, Texas). The opening track leans on the 80s; the two gripping closing tracks, meanwhile, cleave to indie rock, but delivered by men whose odd-kid-out aesthetics didn’t make them immune to the traumas of growing up Black in the US, or to heartbreak.
Less inspired by the Wim Wenders film than the idea of juxtaposing disparate elements, Paris Texas are a mysterious, niche-y duo from LA who combine hip-hop with guitars. Rap-rock is, of course, best left to Rage Against the Machine, but today’s post-genre climate means that anything goes, providing it goes right. And Louie Pastel and Felix – no surname provided – have hit on a taut, freeform sound that combines rapped vocals with left-field sonics and punk-adjacent brio.
The result is a full-length debut that is acerbic, vulnerable and swaggering all at the same time. Odd Future are a viable reference point, as are Death Grips, Clipping and King Krule, but Paris Texas still sound like a blast of fresh air. “There’s people tryna kill me, other than me,” notes a song called Everybody’s Safe Until…, to a bass throb and a popping guitar line. A track called Lana Del Rey recalls the Stooges, with icy synths and yelped punchlines (LDR, of course, has a song called Paris, Texas). The opening track leans on the 80s; the two gripping closing tracks, meanwhile, cleave to indie rock, but delivered by men whose odd-kid-out aesthetics didn’t make them immune to the traumas of growing up Black in the US, or to heartbreak.