The three dudes that make up the group Champagne Champagne (emcees Pearl Dragon and Thomas Gray, and DJ/Producer Gajamagic) must find themselves in a weird space these days. Their shows are usually populated by twenty-something hipsters of the fairer complexion, rocking out with their cocks out, overjoyed at being at a hip-hop show, and certainly proud to tell their unlucky (and much less-cool) co-workers the next day about how “real” the experience was. Yet there’s this verse, from “Soda & Pop Rocks,” the very first thing Pearl spits on Champagne Champagne’s self-titled debut album:

You can see me leapin’
My words creepin’
Slowly
Now they know me
When my whole influence was
“Rollin’ With The Homies”
First off
One of the best to ever touch off
You can see me touchdown anytime
Randy Moss

You can take what you git from it
My words influenced by
The slums and they love it
Hip-hop no hipster
Words flip back you can see I rip through
Haters innovator rock paper scissor
See me as I
Cut up my nigga!

Take note, white hipsters, this is not your music. (Pearl even says so!) This is black music — a cousin once or twice-removed from Jimi Hendrix, Living Colour, and Outkast. Witness the emphasis of the N-word, not meant to make you feel down with the cause, but as a proud (however polemic) declaration of blackness. The word’s strong assertion made me feel uncomfortable and alienated from the track, which is exactly how anyone who is not black should feel. So, while the demographics of the audience probably accurately represent the consumers of Champagne Champagne’s music, the joke’s ultimately on you hipster motherf*ckas. Pearl’s city “isn’t pretty, it’s gritt-y.”

Fresh Espresso, the other Seattle hip-hop group that most closely resembles Champagne Champagne, probably faces fewer such dilemmas. While FE’s music is far more party-friendly (virtually no references to blackness that would inconveniently clutter their feel-good vibe), the afro-eccentricities of Champagne Champagne add a welcome layer of complexity to their music. Without it, there would only be the left-field hip-hop punkiness of the sonic arrangements and little to no traceable DNA leading them back to the revered architects of black music mentioned above.

Not that the hipsters are all in the wrong for digging this sh*t, they should. The group is, after all, called Champagne Champagne, a moniker that bestows upon them the responsibility for starting the party. And this does sound like party music. Live hip-hop is more about the beats than the lyrics anyway, anyone who attends the shows can attest to that. The distorted bass at the beginning of “Soda & Pop Rocks” sounds like a mic’ed-up human heart sitting on top of an 808 kick drum. It’s not only the best track on the album, but also Champagne Champagne’s official declaration of non-whiteness in a city full of white fans — nonetheless, I’m sure it rocks the hell out of their parties.

After the opening track, things immediately get more complicated. Is “Molly Ringwald” really a heartfelt tribute to falling in love with girls who look like the innocent sweet-sixteener? Or is it a perverse acknowledgment of the white-girls-who-love-black-men phenomenon that only Spike Lee has been brave enough to flesh-out in front of the general public? Pearl’s heartbroken vocals suggest the former (“I left a message but she never called me back”), while Gajamagic’s sinister production suggests the latter.

Later, Pearl lightens-up a little and does his best Andre 3000 impression on the guitar-driven, “Hollywood Shampoo,” and further tributes are paid to the fairer sex as the pitfalls of showbiz-life and love are lamented and celebrated on “Cover Girls” and “What’s Your Fantasy.” The production trends toward hippie futurism, and contains all the references to space and aliens that would be expected from such music. Yes, the hip-hop UFO thing is getting tired and it’s been done better before, but Champagne Champagne uses the levity in such themes to elevate the music to the upper reaches of that particular quality.

Finally, while “Soda & Pop Rocks” is the group’s declaration of identity, “Radio Raheem” is the frontman’s heart, exposed and bleeding for all to see. On it, Pearl raps about the shooting death of his older brother, Samuel Curry, by an off-duty Seattle police officer. The song plays its ironic and tragic part in inextricably linking the rapper’s proud declaration of blackness to the all-too-frequent instances of police brutality that grievously help define the black experience in America. Indeed it’s a heavy track, yet a vital addition to an album that would, however regrettably, be incomplete without it.