In an age when every self-tanned pop tart talks tough about pushing boundaries by ditching the Hanes for Her and getting arrested, Imani Coppola is sitting back on a stoop in Bed Stuy and not giving a crap. A brah, bi-racial beauty with the voice of an angry angel and a truck-stop vocabulary, she's more concerned with making music that feels like having a line of coke blown up your ass. The release of her eighth studio venture, THE BLACK AND WHITE ALBUM, marks a departure from the sound to which many of her fans have grown accustomed. The melancholic, sample-heavy sound scapes featured on albums like CHUPACABRA and APHRODITE have given way to a more anarchic, visceral noise that settles on no genre in particular.