Three minutes and thirty-three seconds: For a while in the late 90s imagining Tricky’s return to form was something of a national pastime. “For Real” was the last time I believed in it - I went and bought the Juxtapose album, played it a couple times, gave up on it. This is still a great record, though - fuggy and poisonous, Tricky’s flow slowed to an offhand, spoken-word crawl as he berates young wannabes. Games of Reality Top Trumps are generally my least favourite thing in music but Tricky wins because he in no sense absents himself from the corrosion and delusion. “It’s not real / It’s just passing time / It’s not real / All I do is rhyme”
What would your 3’33” pick be?