Qwel has some classic ish.. elsewhere. I'm a big fan of his delivery and intonations, but his attempts at conscientiousness here fall flat — ginger kids rap the n-word thinking they found the way to do it clever. They never have.
"I can't find God cause I can't live with myself,"
A lot of y'all ain't never fed the homeless. Take a walk, throw this on.
My favorite rappers keep flanderizing themselves. I'm glad he's having fun.
Dedicating any amount of space to myself is acrid to me but given recent events I find it necessary; I will keep it brief. Please do not remove my reviews from their context to circulate on other platforms whilst misrepresenting my goals. I have never used this platform as a means to make myself a Fantano; these idiosyncratic scrawlings are my own attempt at making sense. I'm glad so many of you can take things worth taking from them; the average netizen, with no clue of who I am and what ... read more
I accuse GOD of felonious deism, GOD accuses me of.. being GOD,
It has been a miserably cold winter; wind stinging face, snow buries knee, furrows every brow. Cabin-feverous in chapel perilous, my psychosis throws me roses, Quixote on a luddite jihad against asylums that make you insane. Plows burrowed us out but they built the roads.
It was 70 degrees this week, it will snow tonight. The ides of Spring are in full bloom —& I am terrified. Ted K never even used the internet, that ... read more
I don't want to be a figment of an imagination so white. But y'all like them crazy Latinas, right?
Perlman charges the poets of the world as guilty in the devastated countrysides and charred bodies. They are akin to those mythic 'pure scientists,' those who discovered the structure of the atom yet somehow bear no blame for its split. "; Nationalists used the poetry to split and fuse human populations, to mobilize genocidal armies, to perpetrate new holocausts." It ... read more
Winter is a poor time for poems. I suppose the snow doesn't know; innocent. Chiding cold, the season keeps inside us insolent young vagrants. To vandalize what must be defaced, you must have space. Worst blizzard since '78.
Sadistik feels all vandalized, inside for the season. Cabin fever rhymes made whilst pacing in place. I have to resist the urge, when reviewing, to just quote lyrics. What else am I to add? He said it all; more words soon, the coddiwomole continues.
For the hardcore heads; diehard fans of the two will get a lot out of this, I'm sure, but the energy the duo once embodied has drained.
Can can Qwel Qwel rock rock?? Well, well, um, um..
Typical cats do immaculate Jazz rap courtesy fin de siècle Chicago. Three emcees share the spotlight, split the atom; Denizen Kane, poet-turned-rapper, takes ennui and wrests out sincerity. Nostalgia is the lowest form of conversation, he believes in closure. Two tongues, one horse, no name, no admission. Qwazaar is the quintessential rapper man through the cyclical cynical, spits bars with gravel-voice against the typical suicidal ... read more
loftily I do abstain had him sounding like Ferreira for a minute there. That's the most compliment I know.
Denzel et al. help usher in the ultra-sanification of what was once one of rap's rawest scenes. Starved for ideas, we loot the past, defang it in the process. Memphis rap house party at 8.
I'll admit, I've long since splintered with the circle-A anarchist orthodoxy. I have no liebe for lebensreform, am too luddite for the Landians, too immaterial for the bespectacled & skeptical for the spiritual. Sole and I probably disagree on God now — maybe not Then, "I am the God, and the Earth"—, on plots, on how, on alot. Still, sole speaks to me.
Televangel's beats focus on atmosphere. Sick smoggy glum choking out the air in waves, I imbibed ... read more
Dope soul stylings melded with his usual obscure writing style, but I miss the twinge of self-awareness that is here missing.
To Be in Love is nasty. Fickle. The rest of the EP is alright; Sadistik has a penchant for bringing odd names from across underground rap together. RIP Chino XL.
An honest attempt at sanity in somber times. None ever comes. None ever could. The koala clings to his stump.
Karriem grounds Liv.e's ever inventive & eclectic craft with hip-hop–influenced instrumentals. Liv.e portrays a firmly rooted confidence impervious to outsider perversions, shaken only by self-doubts and inability to connect with some. How frustrating; how relatable.
"I think I'm different, but I'm not / I'm just a victim of my time"
Sideshow grapples with Capital and the lack of ethical consumption therein. We live in the belly of the beast and every meal you can scrounge up is the gnawed remains of a humanity. Digging through the rot, dissolute desecrations in the name of survival, you're unsure if the spoils of war even reflect you anymore. These arms are boiled and yet I grab.
Tigray Funk is lethargic, druggy, ... read more
Lungs and Cise being Lungs and Cise over the archetypal LoneSword production. Glitch-infused drumless beats that occasionally drone, here infused with Sam Kinison bits to spruce the mood. That dude hated rap.
Weirdly vapor-y at first, but the sound is abandoned for less interesting recycled abstract tropes. Mbaruk has one hell of a delivery.