Princess Superstar

You have to concede a certain amount of praise automatically for the massive imaginative output in Princess Superstar’s My Machine, a dystopic sci-fi hip-hop concept album about a future celebrity who takes over the world with the help of a cloning machine. As in any good epic, apocalyptic replicant war ensues, but thanks to Princess Superstar, this annihilation is soundtracked by a rump riot full of carnivorously genre-bent genius. My Machine represents the best strains of the New York City MC’s ten-year career, with songs like “Bad Girls NYC” riding a space-rock lick reminiscent of her early punk-hop hybrids, while “Coochie Coo” picks up electro and trashed clubbed beats more in tune with her recent incarnation as a mash-up goddess with DJs Are Not Rock Stars. For newbies, the disc will provide a beautifully demented introduction to a polysyllabic MC with a voice like a shot of honeyed bourbon, tying velvet knots in rhyme schemes built from wry wit, pop-culture obscurity and the most syncopated paeans to pussy power ever laid on wax.