It's OF, buttercup/Go ahead, fuck with us/Without a doubt a surefire way to get your mother fucked/Ask her for a couple bucks, shove a trumpet up her butt/Play a song, invade her thong/My dick is having guts for lunch/.As well as supper, then I'll rummage through a ruptured cunt.' 'Hurry up I've got nuts to bust and butts to nut/And sluts to fucking uppercut. It'll be interesting to see how far this coterie of cool-hunters and cultural nomads will go before ironic detachment begins to look like tacit approval, when his little brother (or cousin, or friend, depending on who you listen to) Earl Sweatshirt is writing lines like this: Despite Tyler's best efforts, though, they will subscribe by the busload, instigating a sort of cultural gentrification.

Their condescension of hip hop culture, evinced by the likes of Spank Rock or The Cool Kids and dating back to Weezer, deserves a response like the Odd Future phenomenon, which in its extremeness defies clever-clever parody. Odd Future, however, have a quite different (arguably more deserving) quarry in the faux-hemiam millennial hipster. As Simon Reynolds has pointed out, there's a likeness to Big Black, who also enjoyed baiting the right-on liberals with repellent content, disregarding the right-wingers as soft targets. In the growing number of interviews with Odd Future they make sure to pour scorn on nearly everyone except their beloved Waka Flocka Flame, taking aim at the Backpackers, black pop, LA's homegrown 'Jerk Rap' craze, gangsta screwfacery, hip hop bloggers and hipsters ('AinвЂ™t no hipster mista/Fuck you in your yellow skinnies'). 'I'm bad milk' says founder Tyler, the Creator '.drink it'. Either way, evil always wins, so 'dominate yourself' as Pissed Jeans would prescribe. But, when it comes to living art through your favourite artists, to coin a phrase: 'Would you rather be a snake or a poisonous snake?' Odd Future? They'd rather be wolves. The air of amorality is overwhelming, the pay off quips wince-inducing at best ('It's not rape if you like it bitch') but the thrills are endless - if very, very guilty. It's indefensible and chillingly inexplicable, and inevitably the hand-wringing will arrive in a torrent. On nearly every cut, and with obsessive zeal, they rap about rape the fantasies gratuitously detailed, sickening yet sometimes nihilistically comic. Sure to inspire universal condemnation is their penchant for a truly reprehensible subject matter.

Imagine if Butthole Surfers hallucinated a purple Jaberwocky with the head of Eminem and the third-eye of any number of trailblazers Flying Lotus, Madvillain, RZA, Liars, John Coltrane, DJ Screw, PiL, Boards Of Canada - all are ripe for a 'swagging'. Theirs is a kind of shockcore grand guignol Droog-rap founded on stubborn, off-sync beats and deformed, bug powder production - elephantine, electric and coursing with 'all the dread magnificence of perversity'. To watch these post-everything, for-nothing teens go at the world, it occurs they might just see the job through.ДЇucked for innocence, flush for drugs, 'Black Ted Bundy/Sick as John Gacey' (Vince Staples), here lies the homophobic, religion-hating, woman-hating Odd Future. Every generation wants to be the last, as Chuck Palahniuk writes. It screams 'We're next, here's the door'. Both alien and alienating, the promo coveys a world faster, harsher and more dangerously alive than the average pace and weak clarity of normal adult living. They simulate pulling out their hair, teeth, and on one occasion a fingernail, eventually lying on top of each other in a mass heap of overdosed corpses. They stack on their ollies, collapse on the pavement, scream, bare torn gums, scrap, and play games with fake blood. Taking to the LA streets on a cocktail of pills, powders, cough syrup and weed, Earl Sweatshirt and the wolf gang run riot on the video for 'Earl'. Or seven more just like him a skating band of child demons from Crenshaw, Los Angeles, who right now are the most exciting hip hop act on the planet. Sometimes it takes a baby-faced, 17 year-old borderline sociopath in a hair salon to tell you your number's up.

By around the age of 30 the future begins to look odd, and the next generation even more so.

Tyler the creator wolf album art parody