Eight Gigs: Earl Sweatshirt

When we first met Los Angeles shut-in Earl Sweatshirt, he was an intensely verbal teenager matriculating at the Kool Keith school of pagan shock-jockery. “Tell your bitch to stop complainin' 'bout her achy tits,” Earl admonished. “The body is a temple? I don't give a fuck; I'm atheist.” No wonder Mama Sweatshirt exported him to a Samoan penal colony for habitual misbehavers. Now 21, the rapper hasn't mellowed with age. New album I Don't Like Shit, I Don't Go Outside: An Album by Earl Sweatshirt picks up where Doris left off a couple of summers ago: dysphoric rhymes and amorphous beats. I Don't Like is not some sanitized affair; it's a monument to spiritual malady. 1417 R Street, www.earlsweatshirt.com.