Sainthood Reps, Monoculture. It starts out with the sort of plodding shouting I associate with early Beastie Boys, the first rap band where I didn’t understand why the songs wouldn’t be better if they were sung rather than rapped. On later tracks, Sainthood Reps delve into doomy metallic crunch, with the same lumbering laxity. Which made me think of Rick Rubin’s passions for modern metal. So, an album made in an alternate 1986? Yeah, but too sluggish to register.