Pitchfork

You wouldn't play a death knell at a sock hop, would ya? Well, for the past two or three years, that seems to have been the modus operandi of much underground hip-hop. While the beats of the mainstream have become progressively more dance-oriented (and have, in many cases, even incorporated some refreshing experimentalism), the beats of the underground have grown more defiantly straightforward and dance-hostile. Those of us who love a snappy club burner but despise the insipidness of gangsta-bling lyrics have been forced to suck it up and just pray the DJ mixes some Aesop Rock vocals with a little Miami booty crunk.

But along comes NYC concept junkie Mike Ladd, the sole perpetrator behind The Majesticons and The Infesticons, two fictitious, rival hip-hop groups whose records have included guest spots from EL-P, Saul Williams, and Priest and Beans of Antipop Consortium. The short story: The Infesticons represent for the underground; The Majesticons rep the mainstream; both are entangled in a perpetual, futuristic battle of wits for the ultimate prize: TOTAL CONTROL OF HIP-HOP'S FUTURE. Beauty Party, the latest chapter in this ongoing saga, sees The Majesticons at the height of commercial dominance, having gained notoriety and risen to prominence in previous installments. With so much "access to excess", they go mad with their wealth, buying up every material possession imaginable. The joke is that they've transformed from hard street thugs rocking diamond-encrusted caps into full-blown yuppies.

It's a great parody, but what's greater is that it's not just satire for its own sake; it's an excuse for Ladd to pile on platinum-shiny beats, scorching robotic tweak, and aggro-maniacal bling. "Brains Party" sees Ladd appropriating the chorus to a Pet Shop Boys song, Puffy-style: "I got the brains/ You got the looks/ Let's make lots of money/ We are the game/ We are the crooks/ Let's take all their money." "Platinum BlaQue Party" is a breezed-up, cocoa-buttered R&B humper: "Spellman lady friend and lesbian ménage a trois/ With a Wellesley friend, carafes of wine, la-day-da!" And as usual, an all-star ensemble of guests fills out the record. When El-P, with Can Ox's Vast Aire in tow, rhymes, "All y'all dealing with virtual money/ Shit, I wipe my ass with a twenty" on "Suburb Party", the hilarity is pretty much beyond description.

Beauty Party's got more one-liners than a night at the Apollo, but beyond the overlying humor, the record drives home a point by making a compelling argument against dogmatism and materialism, and addressing issues of class and value systems, and their impact on hip-hop culture. "Pirahna Party" illustrates the devouring conundrum of gentrification: "We got the stocks/ We got the banks/ You keep the glocks/ We want the docks/ You keep the shanks/ We got the tanks/ We keep the goods/ We subvert the hood/ We buy you out/ Or kick you out/ Tear down your house/ Tear down the blocks/ Those mom and pops."

Through satire, Ladd has created a perfect amalgamation of underground and mainstream hip-hop. Beauty Party possesses an intelligent, cutting consciousness, and its club-consumability will allow that to reach far more people than if he'd just rapped some "fuck the machine" rhyme over a dragging, think-rap tempo. That these two seemingly disparate styles work so well together might strike some as a bit ironic, but it proves that if these warring factions can balance their diametrical opposition, they might discover a medium not just happy but straight-up blissful.