E. WHATEVSKI “Cult Classics” (Hand’Solo Records)

Whatevski’s got a cult, hey. We are his acolytes. We comprise his followers, his harem. Whatevski Whatevski says, whatevski we does. Whatevski drops a mixtape, dedicated to his cult, and we listen to it, enraptured. Dedicated to his cult? It’s called Cult Classics, homie – let that be a lesson to you.

“Assembled deep within the caves of Whatevski’s secret compound,” Cult Classics brings together a metric ton of underground hip hop talent that’s about to blow the doors off whatever clubs Toronto’s even got left. Hand’Solo’s headquarters just became the number-one target for whatever government organizations are tasked with monitoring the Venn diagram where “cult” and “dope rhymes” meet ceremoniously in the middle. We’d regale you with the specifics of the reports, but they’ve all been redacted.

So redact this: Cult Classics is a nasty slab of wickedness produced to perfection by crate-digging madmen and maestros. Each track is a master class in head-noddery, an upraised middle finger to décor, and a time bomb of seething wordplay. No matter what affiliations we hold coming into Cult Classics, we will leave a fully-fledged member of this distinct association. What we choose to do with that membership is on us – I say we flaunt the fuck out of it.