There’s something uniquely chaotic about rebranding your hip-hop duo by putting on color-coded gloves and announcing your creative rebirth like a pro wrestling tag team emerging from an extended nap. And yet, that’s exactly what Normal Saturday; the once-quiet, now-very-much-not-quiet duo of Crumbs and DK 4 Now, have done with their return album TwoHandTouch. Orange gloves for DK. Blue for Crumbs. And 13 songs’ worth of proof that they’ve used the past three years not to chill, but to go feral in the best possible way.
Let’s be clear: this is not just a comeback. This is a narrative arc. Back in 2019, Normal Saturday released a handful of genre-skipping projects covering bedroom pop, lo-fi rap, a touch of internet dancecore, which felt like musical notes passed between two kids in the back of class. There were good ideas, scattered everywhere, but no one had brought a glue stick. And then… silence. For three years. Enough time for a full political cycle, a global pandemic, and several spiritual awakenings.
So here we are in 2025, and Normal Saturday is back, gloved-up and weirdly focused. TwoHandTouch is, at its surface, a hip-hop album. But that’s like saying a dragon is just a lizard. What you actually get is a disorienting blend of lo-fi aesthetics, psychedelic trap, YouTube-poet introspection, and the sort of shouty, awkward bravado you usually only get from people who just discovered the term “inner child” and aren’t quite sure if it’s cringe or profound. Spoiler alert: it’s both, and so is this album.
The result is something you wouldn’t exactly call polished, but that’s the point. TwoHandTouch thrives in controlled chaos. It’s the sound of two people who’ve realized that not picking a lane is the lane. The production swings from blown-out bass to whispery keys, ambient hums to chiptune-level bleeps, sometimes all in one track. But somehow, it doesn’t collapse under the weight of its own genre-anxiety. There’s just enough craft holding the mess together to keep things… intentional.
“WorldAtYourFingertips” opens the album like the sunrise on a particularly weird planet. It’s uplifting, dreamy, and gives the sense that we’re not in 2019 anymore. The synths shimmer, the beat floats, and the lyrics land somewhere between motivational speaker and semi-stoned camp counselor. It’s got this “school’s out forever, now let’s build a treehouse on Mars” kind of optimism that sets the tone perfectly.
“ThreeBall” is one of the emotional anchors. There’s real weight behind the vocal delivery here. It feels like someone processing a loss, but through layers of vocal distortion and a beat that shouldn’t work… but does. The vibe lands somewhere between late-night journaling and floating inside a lava lamp. It’s low-key cathartic, but too self-aware to get melodramatic.
“DK4Now” is DK’s self-titled victory lap. It’s cocky, loud, and basically says, “I’m back and I have bars now.” The beat sounds like it’s trying to punch you in the throat, but in a fun way. It feels like the musical equivalent of showing up to your ex’s party in a better outfit; maybe with sunglasses on indoors. There’s an energy here that fans of someone like Hoodie Allen would recognize. It’s chaotic but clean, with the kind of quotable lines that’ll get stuck in your head without warning.
“YourBrainOnWeed” is where things get properly weird. It’s woozy and hypnotic, like the beat is trying to seduce you into astral projecting. The production feels like falling into a dream inside another dream, and both dreams are sponsored by VHS tapes and old Adult Swim bumpers. This one leans hard into that kaleidoscope-core aesthetic; warped textures, detuned melodies, and just enough clarity to let you know they’re doing this on purpose.
Now, I could go on about more songs, but let’s not kid ourselves: this isn’t about breaking the album down track-by-track. It’s about the vibe, and that vibe is something between a lo-fi anime rap podcast and a stoner philosophy class held at sunrise. It’s funny, without being a joke. Sincere, without being preachy. And here’s the real twist: inspired, in a way that feels infectious.
Fans of Joey Valence & Brae will clock the ADHD-friendly production and the very 2000s but also modern-sounding delivery. If you were ever into early Hoodie Allen or the “this is rap but I’m also in AP Lit” energy of Mac Miller’s K.I.D.S. mixtape, you’ll feel right at home here, though Normal Saturday brings a more warped, kaleidoscopic tone.
Most importantly, TwoHandTouch feels like two people actually enjoying making music again. You can hear it in the ad-libs. You can feel it in the transitions, which are loose and playful but never lazy. This isn’t an album trying to climb a chart. It’s an album made because the artists couldn’t not make it anymore. That kind of energy is rare, especially when it’s paired with this much charm and this much sheer sonic weirdness.
So no, TwoHandTouch won’t be for everyone. If you like your rap airtight and your metaphors handed to you on a plate, look elsewhere. But if you’re into artists figuring themselves out in real time, who can make you laugh on one track and lowkey change your mood on the next; Normal Saturday’s TwoHandTouch might just be your new favorite project.
Follow Normal Saturday
Promoted Content
About the Author
A tenured media critic known working as a ghost writer, freelance critic for publications in the US and former lead writer of Atop The Treehouse. Reviews music, film and TV shows for media aggregators.
