...less an album than an extended skit.
Adam Webb 2005
As crate diggers go, few travel out there like Madlib. By pushing back sound barriers, the West Coast producer has forged his own critically-acclaimed niche, although whether the results make for consistent quality will probably depend on your state of mind (or the state of your stash). But whichever side of the fence you sit on - and you'll probably be on one or the other - Madlib has more in common with Frank Zappa than he'll ever have with P Diddy.
Quasimoto, who we were first introduced to on backpacker classic The Unseen, is essentially the producer's comic alter ego; a helium-voiced pipsqueak who stamped his own brand of Looney Tune madness over what many -mostly, goatee-bearded record shop employees - considered a highpoint of headnodding mixology.
But whereas The Unseen was fresh and endlessly inventive back in 2000, Further Adventures...comes across merely as half-baked. Frankly, it's a bit of a mess, and though there's plenty worth listening to musically, Quasi has precious little to say. Occasionally he's very funny ("Bullyshit") and occasionally he's sorely unfunny ("Bus Ride") but mostly he's delivering the sort of stoner rap that only a Beavis or Butthead could truly love. And at 27 tracks he really is spoiling us.
It's soon apparent that this is less an album than an extended skit. Ideas flicker aimlessly, like a goldfish on Ritalin, only to be punctuated by Melvin Van Peebles' rambling nonsense. By the time Madvillain finally makes an appearance on "Closer", the album's best track, it's far too little too late.
Ultimately, Quasimoto sounds like nothing more than a Mini-Me Eminem toking on Northern Lights. Aimless enough fun initially, but only coherent enough to produce something substantial about every twenty minutes or so. That's a strike rate of about three cuts over the course of an hour. The rest, however well-produced, sounds suspiciously like dicking about.