Flume And JPEGMAFIA Release Collaborative EP ‘We Live In A Society'
Flume and JPEGMAFIA have officially shared their debut collaborative EP, entitled We Live In A Society. Last week saw the Australian producer and American rapper tease the release of the project with an animated video for what ended up being the first track on the EP, the imaginatively-titled 'Track 1'. It was then confirmed via Flume's social media a few days later. The pair reportedly began work on the EP in 2023, prior to both Peggy's collaborative album with Danny Brown (Scaring The Hoes) and his fifth solo album I Lay Down My Life For You – on which Flume co-produced the Vince Staples collab 'New Black History'. We Live In A Society can be streamed below via Spotify.
To promote the EP, a music video for the track 'AI Girlfriend' has also been shared. JPEGMAFIA co-directed the music video himself, alongside collaborator Logan Fields. The clip depicts a futuristic knight in a strip club, and is filmed from its perspective in the spirit of The Prodigy's controversial 'Smack My Bitch Up' music video. It also features YouTuber Dax Flame in a cameo role.
We Live In A Society marks Flume's first new music as a lead artist since the release of his two 2023 mixtapes: Things Don't Always Go The Way You Plan and Arrived Anxious, Left Bored. Since then, he has collaborated with Tkay Maidza on the single 'Silent Assassin' and with Kučka on 'One More Night'. Peggy, meanwhile, has stayed prolific in 2025. He has released the stand-alone singles 'Protect The Cross' and 'Valentines Day Freestyle '25', as well as a 'director's cut' of I Lay Down My Life For You which expands it to a 76-minute double album. The rapper has also teased his sixth solo album and a follow-up to Scaring The Hoes with Brown on his social media accounts.
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The post Flume And JPEGMAFIA Release Collaborative EP 'We Live In A Society' appeared first on Music Feeds.
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But his melancholia was there from the beginning, as in 'The Lonely Sea,' a harrowing beach-goth ballad from 1963, on the Surfin' Safari LP. 'The lonely sea, it never stops for you or me,' Brian sings, warning his girl that she'll break his heart because she's just like the ocean. In the cheesy 1965 teen flick The Girls on the Beach, he crashes a surf party to croon 'The Lonely Sea' to the bikini bunnies — dude, what a buzzkill. You can definitely see why the Beach Boys didn't make more movies after this. Brian was always aiming for history. You could hear that in an early oddity like 'The Surfer Moon,' from 1963, where he's a rookie producer making his first stab at an old-school show-biz standard. (The orchestra might sound a little lost at the beach, but blame it all on the surfer moon.) 'Little Honda' is an ode to a two-wheeled muse — not a big motorcycle, just a groovy little motorbike. The song is so expertly built, every gear shift feels huge. Yo La Tengo's 1997 feedback-guitar version is one of the most loving Beach Boys tributes. Pet Sounds was his ultimate statement — but it didn't sell enough to pay the theremin bills. The album was a rarity for decades. (I was 22 before I was ever in the same room as a copy of Pet Sounds, in the attic of Rhymes Records in New Haven, and, yes, I remember everything about that cosmos-altering June afternoon, especially how 'That's Not Me' and 'I'm Waiting for the Day' were my first-listen faves.) It's still startling to hear — especially 'God Only Knows,' a tune everyone on Earth wishes they could sing, although these are high notes only angels or Carl Wilson could reach. Brian could have learned his lesson and started playing it safe — but needless to say, he didn't. Instead, he set out to make an even more experimental album. In April 1967, Brian appeared on the Leonard Bernstein TV special Inside Pop, sitting at his home piano to stun viewers with a solo premiere of a new song: 'Surf's Up,' an epic ballad from his upcoming Smile. Brian promised this magnum opus would top his ultimate rivals, the Beatles; he was shattered when the Fabs beat him into stores with Sgt. Pepper. Paul McCartney famously visited Brian in the studio, played 'She's Leaving Home' on the piano, and told him, 'You'd better hurry up!' But he couldn't even finish the album, suffering a meltdown and leaving a pile of outtakes. It's tragic that he didn't just release that one-take piano 'Surf's Up' — it would have been enough to establish the song as a classic. By the time the song came out in 1971, it was forgotten by all except the lucky few who'd caught it on TV. Smiley Smile became the homemade basement-tapes version of Smile, with spaced-out gems like the doo-wop seance 'With Me Tonight.' Wild Honey was a marvelous return to their trashy rock & roll roots, a 24-minute rush of garage-band kicks. But nobody bought this one either — Wild Honey became their worst seller to date. The boy genius was damaged goods. Now full-grown men with beards, the band made Sunflower a soulful adult statement for the new decade — so polished it's practically their Abbey Road. Sunflower came out on the last day of August 1970, Surf's Up almost exactly a year later, which must have seemed all wrong for the Beach Boys. But it's fitting because both albums are about moving on after the surf is gone, which is why both resonate today. Surf's Up finally unveiled the title song, along with spooked-out gems like 'Long Promised Road' and 'Til I Die.' They were the last great songs Brian would manage to complete for years. Brian became rock's most notorious lost boy in the 1970s, hiding in his mansion in a druggy haze, with the shades pulled down. 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'I Wanna Pick You Up' remains one of rock's loveliest fatherhood songs — even if it sounds like Dad could use some babysitting himself. The Eighties and Nineties were full of comeback efforts, with scattered not-bad results. But Brian was written off as a tragic burnout. In 1987, for Rolling Stone's 20th anniversary issue, he was asked a couple of questions he sang back in 1965's 'When I Grow Up (to Be a Man).' Did he dig the same things that turned him on as a kid? 'Laughing. I like to laugh.' And did he ever look back and wish he hadn't done what he did? 'Drugs,' he said quietly. 'I wish I hadn't taken them.' But he didn't imagine having any place in the public imagination. 'Not really an identity, no. Just a high voice. That's about it.' But that's why it was such a shock when he reemerged in the 2000s in a creative rebirth, finally making music worthy of his name again, onstage and in the studio. The 2001 TV special An All-Star Tribute to Brian Wilson served notice that he was back in shape. The whole four-hour concert was an unforgettable night of Brian worship: Paul Simon crooning 'Surfer Girl,' Elton John doing the twist with Billy Joel for 'Fun, Fun, Fun,' the Go-Gos bashing 'Little Honda,' David Crosby yowling, 'This is the worst trip I've ever been on.' But Brian stole the show, making a cold, rainy March night in NYC glow with the warmth of the sun. He even went back to the great doomed opus of his youth, Smile. It was rock's most legendary unfinished masterpiece, with outtakes assembled on the 2011 box The Smile Sessions. But the definitive Smile is his fully realized 2004 version, with Brian finally strong enough to do these songs justice, in his sublimely autumnal 'Cabin Essence' and 'Surf's Up.' It peaks with 'Wonderful,' a two-minute reverie about childhood, a fragile tune he'd never had the voice for until now. Once his most infamous defeat, Smile became one of the great artistic triumphs of his life. Good vibrations, indeed. He kept revisiting these songs for decades, always hearing the new stories they were telling as they evolved over time. 'Keep an Eye on Summer,' a deep cut from the 1964 throwaway LP Shut Down Volume 2, took on a whole new meaning when he sang it on his 1998 Imagination, ruminating on how time fades away. In a 2018 radio interview, Al Jardine summed up 'In My Room' beautifully: 'I assumed it was Brian Wilson's personal story about being secluded and lonely and feeling those feelings we all have.' He wrote the last of his classics with 'Summer's Gone,' his finale for the Beach Boys' 2012 reunion, That's Why God Made the Radio. It was a farewell to his lost brothers Carl and Dennis, but as he said, 'It was like 'Caroline, No' also, because I was thinking about younger versions of myself.' Brian sings about watching the waves, maybe on the same beach where he sang 'The Lonely Sea' decades ago. 'Old friends have gone, they've gone their separate ways,' he sings. 'Our dreams hold on for those who have more to say.' 'Summer's Gone' seems to sum up the whole Brian Wilson saga in five bittersweet minutes, transforming grief and solitude into timeless beauty. The damage of his early years could have destroyed him — yet he found a way to transform it into music that will be sung around the world as long as people can sing. His life could have been a horror story — he turned it into a love song. This is a heavy loss for anyone who loves music — it seems the more we talk about him, it only makes it worse to live without him. But let's talk about him. We're all lucky to share in the world he helped create in his music. He turned it into the kind of world where we belong. Good night and thank you, Brian Wilson. Surf's up, forever. 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