ACL Review: Flosstradamus

On a turnt-up Miller Lite stage, one witnessed the great strengths and weaknesses of a genre living well past its expiration date. In trap royalty Flosstradamus, one might say that musical niche remains alive and kicking.

Trap music, quickening kick drums over synthesizers – and specifically here the much-parodied version espoused by the Chicago DJ duo – at once empowers and zombifies its audience. This changing duality is key. For example, on their one notable original, “Mosh Pit,” like most trap, you’re encouraged to give in and act out.

Do what they tell you, then get crazy.

Lost in blinding lights via an audience expedited by drunkenness, gratuitous toking, and messy coke toots with nearby children around, Autobot pressed play on bass titan DJ Don Mecca’s “High as a MF.” Not that the ethnically diverse bros, and the women that love them, need help connecting to the cosmic thump. They’re almost obligated to play Fetty Wap’s “Trap Queen,” earning a cheap hype bump in shouting out the visually impaired rapper’s recovery from a run-in with a formidable combination: “Lack of peripheral vision” and a motorcycle.

When you’ve pulled out DMX’s “Party Up,” you’ve unconsciously lost steam. Seriously, what’s next? Perhaps they could create a Roberta Flack trap remix, called “Where is the Wub?”, and resurrect Donny Hathaway in a hologram.

The main dilemma for Flosstradamus and trap remains the music’s connective tissue, which seems to be made of strawberry Twizzlers. They have no full-length projects, which is the point. Trap is a one-night stand, except now the Chicagoans have moved in, because you were too nice (or too hung over) to tactfully push them out the door.