Franklin’s got wigging out down to a tee without ever loosing touch of keeping things moving. Based around an audible struggle of sorts, side A rides complex rhythms and simmering restraint. It’s tight yet seemingly loose flow has it’s roots firmly dug up from dub terra firma. A buttock clenching accolade to ruff skanking and ritualistic bounce, chiefing the floor as an ambassador to going mental. Acting as a tug of war of thoughts, side b dawdles with dreamy lushness. A soothing chafe to the celebral bounds on with glittering effect. A wobbly slur to Mudkid’s trademark rumble. Why don’t you open up yours senses and succumb to his meanderings. Even though all the nuts have been gone since December there’s still plenty to go round on this one.