Flying Lotus - You're Dead! (2LP)

In October 2014, Steven Ellison, better known as Flying Lotus, released You’re Dead! on Warp, a heady and heartfelt sprint through the afterlife that still feels singular. It is a record that moves like a graphic novel, which fits, since the cover art comes from Japanese illustrator Shintaro Kago. Flip it over and you get a tracklist of quick cuts and abrupt turns, yet the flow is seamless. In under forty minutes, Ellison threads jazz fusion, hip hop, and electronic psychedelia into something that sounds like a séance in a planetarium.

The opener, Theme, sets the tone with flickering runs and stop start jolts. Tesla and Cold Dead ride that energy, all sharp left turns and blinking lights. Then you hit Never Catch Me and the floor drops. Kendrick Lamar slices through Ellison’s spiraling chords and Thundercat’s bass with a verse that treats death like a relay race. It is a stone classic in his catalog and in FlyLo’s. The Hiro Murai directed video, with two kids dancing out of their own funeral and into the street, captured the album’s spirit so well that it felt instantly canonical.

Herbie Hancock shows up on Moment of Hesitation, and it is not a cameo in name only. You can hear the conversation between generations, Hancock’s touch anchoring Ellison’s dense drum programming and astral harmonies. Snoop Dogg turns Dead Man’s Tetris into a proper smoke break, grinning in the corner while Captain Murphy, FlyLo’s rap alter ego, mutters from the walls. Niki Randa’s voice on Coronus, the Terminator glows with a gentle dread, the kind that lingers long after the track ends. Angel Deradoorian floats through Siren Song like a lighthouse in fog. Nothing feels tacked on. Every guest slips into the current of the record’s big idea, which Ellison framed in interviews as a trip through death and whatever comes after.

The secret glue, as usual, is Thundercat. His bass runs never showboat, they dart and vanish like birds, and they give the album its pulse. When Turkey Dog Coma unspools into Eyes Above, you can almost see the trio of Ellison, Thundercat, and the spirit of their shared jazz lineage grinning at the chaos. These are not beats built for rappers as much as scenes in a short film. The cuts are quick, sometimes under two minutes, yet they stack into a continuous hallucination. Put it on a good setup and the details bloom. You’re Dead! vinyl lets the low end breathe and the cymbals sit in their own air, which is exactly how this music wants to live.

Critics heard it right away. Pitchfork handed it Best New Music and praised the scope, and The Guardian came in strong with four stars. That reception felt earned, not because the album is difficult, but because it is generous. Ellison reaches back to ancestors, literal and musical, and pulls their voices into a modern vocabulary. You hear Alice Coltrane’s cosmic lean, the electric fusion of the 70s, the swing and the snap of L.A. beat music, then the crackle of a cracked headspace. It invites repeat listens, not to decode it, but to hang out in the rooms it opens.

I have had copies pass through my hands, and every time I see it in a bin I feel the itch to grab one for a friend. If you browse Flying Lotus albums on vinyl, this is the one that converts the curious. If you prefer to buy Flying Lotus records online, look for a clean pressing and keep the jacket safe, since Kago’s art is half the story. I have even steered folks hunting vinyl records Australia wide to this album because it does what the format does best, it turns listening into a sit down ritual. A Melbourne record store staffer once told me it was their stealth recommendation for kids who came in asking for Kendrick. Makes sense, since Never Catch Me is the gateway, but the rest is the reason you stay.

Nearly a decade on, You’re Dead! still feels alive. It is the rare concept record that does not get trapped by its concept. Instead, it moves like grief, like memory, like a late night conversation that runs until the sun presses through the blinds. Put on You’re Dead! vinyl, let the runout groove spin a few extra laps, and you might find yourself reaching for side A again without even thinking. That is the mark of a classic, quiet and sure, the kind of album that lives with you.