Philly rap mischief-makers Plastic Little are back with new music (and new fuck-ups)

Ask Kurt Hunte about the allure of Plastic Little and he gets serious just before he remembers to be snide and silly:

“I’d say charm and absurdity, but it’s probably just our strikingly good looks and knowledge of Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings.”

Last decade, his hip-hop act was the shit. From the summer of 2001 until the winter of 2008, Jayson Musson (aka PackofRats), Hunte (Nobody’s Child), Jon “Thousand” Folmar, Michael “Squid” Stern and DJ Si Young Lee used Plastic Little as a vehicle to dis misogynists, porn stars, suicide bombers and decidedly un-dope MCs with a sound propelled by harsh, sloppy electro and Dirty South beats. “From chiptune to indie rock, we’ve always put whatever is buzzing for us into whatever we’re making,” says Hunte. “Kinda a soup du jour.” 

Now Plastic Little is back in the soup with a reunion show at Underground Arts. Of course, the group never officially split, and its members have stayed in touch by emailing song-sketches to each other. According to Hunte, they’re bound together by “either an undying thirst for ignorance, or maybe, we all could use the exercise. I dunno.” 

Plastic Little was Philly-born, but Hunte and Musson weren’t. Raised in Spring Valley, N.Y. (“the browner, less Caucasian-y side of Rockland County,” says Hunte), the pair met at age 8 and bonded over “drawing, video games, being overweight, our Afros, our single moms, a similar sense of humor and, eventually, rap.” They never went to school together, but both wound up in college in Philly; Hunte at UArts, Musson at Temple.

“Who were we in Philly?” asks Hunte. “Two reunited dorks that liked to be silly. I personally wanted an opportunity to make people laugh with words set to music, as I’d always written serious ‘poetry,’ and Jayson had been in a conscious rap group that was way cerebral.” Why start Plastic Little? “Because boredom, because silly, because maybe vagina, because dressing up, because maybe Philly, because why not?”

The group started with Musson and Hunte buying vinyl instrumentals from Armand’s Record Store. DJ Brownski spun below their raps. “Then there was the live instrument phase, because y’know, The Roots,” says Hunte, “That thing fell apart quickly because, like, we’re not The Roots.” So co-producer/programmer Folmar joined up, and rapper Stern and DJ Lee followed.

“There’s just so much to love,” says Hunte of Plastic Little’s dazzlingly dope back catalog: There’s 2003’s Thug Paradise EP, 2006’s She’s Mature full-length and a U.K.-only 2008 compilation of old and new tracks, Welcome to the Jang House, that accompanied a British tour. It wasn’t long afterwards that Plastic Little faded like denim, disappearing into solo acts and art world projects. “It’s more like a fadeaway jump shot and less like denim,” says Hunte. “Like a jump shot when you don’t care about the outcome and already start walking away before it’s anywhere near the rim.”

It’s not like people forgot about Plastic Little. Case-in-point: When it came time for DJ/producer Baauer to drop his debut single on Mad Decent, his souped-up house tune “Harlem Shake” got its title from a line in Plastic Little’s song “Miller Time,” and swiped a prominent sample from Musson’s vocals. A YouTube video and an Internet meme drove it to the top of Billboard’s Hot 100 last year, all without Plastic Little’s permission. 

Contrary to popular belief, there is no “Harlem Shake” lawsuit. Mad Decent CEO/Philly DJ Diplo (aka Wes Pentz) and Plastic Little are amicably working out proper compensation. “I came up with ‘Miller Time’ while being a bad art student when I started to take note of how many commercials were being marketed with rap music,” says Hunte. And Diplo? “Who’s Diplo? I remember meeting this guy named Wes when he tried to freestyle rap-battle me outside of Space 1026. I heard ‘Harlem Shake’ about a year before it became popular and thought, ‘How nice of Jayson to let one of Wes’ artists use a PL sample.’”

As for Plastic Little’s reunion show, Hunte says its visual aspects, courtesy of Raymo Ventura, will be magical (“get all your favorite Instagram filters ready”), and that the quintet will play as many unreleased tunes as classics. “Yeah, we totally have a couple new songs that we plan on forgetting the lyrics to and miming our way through,” says Hunte. “It wouldn’t be a Plastic Little show without a few fuck-ups.”

Sat., April 26, 8 p.m., $3-$10, with Sweatheart, Needle Points and DJ Gun$ Garcia, Underground Arts, 1200 Callowhill St., undergroundarts.org.