Aesop Rock is an acquired taste, that I'll freely admit. His often nasal, harsh voice splashes thrashes in a landscape of abrasive beats that often sound like they belong in a very specific kind of horror movie. That may not sound appealing on the face of it, but that's what makes him and his tracks compelling in their own special way. It's not all abstract and inaccessible, though. Supercell, from this year's The Impossible Kid, has plenty of earthy guts to it. The first thing, that bassline. Simple, but indefatigably it shambles through the word clouds coming from Aesop Rock himself and the echoplex keys all around it as if it demands to be recognized as the center of an alt-hip-hop universe holding it all together with its easy gravity. But those keys? Almost supernatural vapors that elevate it all to something otherworldly. The chord progressions and refs may not be too intricate, but the way the scales, chords, and angelic whistle couldn't go better together. Then there are the lyrics, which in typical Aesop Rock fashion fluctuate between stream-of-consciousness and concrete narrative memoir from one bar to the next.