One of the principle traits of contemporary music is the seeming lack of clearly defined genres. That's fine, because genres have always been thinly veiled attempts to separate music based on the presence or absence of a loosely defined collection of qualities. The creation of these categories has nothing to do with the creation of art that goes in them. Basically, the ultimate fate of genres was always vanishing because it was a fabrication didn't come from making art, but separating art. In an era where rock music is using samples, rappers are positioning themselves as punk, dudes like Charles Bradley are the closest thing we have to music that fits the standards of a genre. And that's because Charles Bradley is basically a time capsule for another era--a glorious and miraculous time capsule, but a time capsule nonetheless. The role of genres is a bygone thing, and that has created a fertile premise for many of the artists who have embraced the terms of the present.

Black Friday is a record by Connecticut-based artist Tedy Brewski released under the moniker Typical Black Punks. The name, a double entendre, denotes a concerted effort on Tedy's part to create music that was influenced by the punk music he'd been listening to of late, as well as explicitly convey the project's theme of race in the United States. However, the role of "influence" did not play out as typically as one might expect when a rapper says they've created an album influenced by punk music. Tedy didn't only adopt the sounds of punk that he likes, he also developed a process that acted like a portal between the nothing-is-really-punk-anymore-present and the punk-is-a-for-real-lifestyle past. Instead of recording songs in the manner he usually does he wound up having one man mosh pits throwing himself around a room, and generally getting hype. The record doesn't look back to punk music, it circles back around in time and then time-warps back to the present forcing the past to come with it.

To take things even further Tedy doesn't simply assimilate his influences into a single stylization. He moves through different styles of punk rock on different songs, but it never comes across as novel. Given the breadth of what he's doing it's easy to see how the adherence to a concept could outstrip the artist's capacity, but it never happens. Without a PR team, a producer, a recording engineer, a ghostwriter, a chauffeur, or even a weed holder, Tedy has created a work of art that marvels any rap release that has come out in recent years. In particular, the vast and engrossing artistic brilliance captured here sheds a strange shadow upon the "punk influenced" album of a certain global rap megastar. If just one person can do this much, it suggests

In a time when "being punk" has been reduced to wearing certain clothing the creation of compelling dissent through art has become a rarified act. In fact, one might argue that anyone capable of enacting true dissent in the current system is an artist, even if they're not making what we normally think of as art. To dissent from a system that is drowning itself in signifiers, and constantly celebrating the ignorant indulgence of cultural traditions completely divorced from their social origins, is truly an art. It takes critical insight to figure out how to short circuit a world where skittles commercials rival the absurdity of a Ray Johnson nothing. Thus enters Tedy Brewski, a young man of African origin living in the United States. A young man who refuses to succeed by the given standards (the 9-5 corporate ladder), refuses to fail by the given traps (being a "typical black punk"), but persists fearless anyways. The result is something transcendent, something punk as fuck in the internet age whoadie. Tedy is highlighting the fact that he is black, he is in the United States, and he doesn't give a fuck about what he's supposed to do, he's doing Tedy, and that's all it's gonna be.

Tedy Brewski: Tumblr / Twitter / Soundcloud / Facebook