If you haven’t heard of Thirsty Ear Recordings, now, you have. These folks sport releases from Anti-Pop Consortium, Exene Cervenka, Gun Club and Jah Wobble amongst other formidable talents. And here on this brand-spanking new slab, the folks at Thirsty Ear, The Blue Series Continuum (house band for the Blue Series) and El Producto mash-up some styles on a release that is singularly loaded with talent and unrelentingly frustrating.

If  El-P isn’t quite a household name in your household, it’s not a tremendous shock. The emcee and producer has been around for a good long time, though, first coming to attention with the seminal nineties’ act Company Flow. The group’s lone long player counts as one of the genre’s underground highlights, on par with any of that true school stuff you’ve only read about in other blog posts. It’s true. So while there should be a huge amount of high expectations to go along with newer work from this New York native, it all needs to be tempered by the fact that there’s no way it can live up to whatever’s expected.

Compared to other Blue Series’ discs and specifically the Anti-Pop record that was recorded with Matthew Shipp, which was equally divided between jazz and hip-hop, the El-P release leans almost totally towards jazz. Indelible shadows of El-P are all over this record, but nothing that boldly announces his presence as a jazz technician. I’m sure that was not the idea, but it would have proved, perhaps, to be a bit more exhilrating. Basically, I was fooled. I waited. On each track, I decide that at any moment a heavy snare and kick would sound. But, that was not to be. A hip-hop beat, if you will, never came.

“Sunrise Over Brklyn” maybe on some turntables out there as the first single. There’re some hints of El-P’s production “noise” in the background, but not enough. The event becomes rather tiresome, steadily evoking dawn. Some sections are nice and discordant, but sounds more un-organized then free (ala-Ornette Coleman).

The title, “Get Yur Hand Off My Shoulder Pig”, is reminiscent of “Don’t Call Me Nigger, Whitey”. Does it promise that funk? There’s a drum roll, as if they plan to introduce something new, then El-P steps in for some production and the band breaks into the funkiest beat on the record. The sad dissonance of Roy Campbell (trumpet) and Steve Swell (trombone) push against the exuberant beat. Two moods colliding. This is what was expected not only of El-P but also of the Blue Series Continuum band. It all simmers down and fades away to chatter.

Some deep groanin at the boards by El-P on “Intrigue in the House of India”. It’s mostly a show for the piano and the accented drum beat. Campbell gets minimal space to stretch out. Frantic drums and El-P’s gloomy drone introduce an overtly electronic section. Paydirt. Maybe.

What I waited for wasn’t what I wanted. But, I think this is what El-P hears when he walks down the street. I’m definitely interested, but I’m confused. So, that’s good. Maybe.