My brothers in the mind speaks arcane, in a sort of matter-of-fact supremacy. Not merely assuring their fragments of understanding aspects capture rhyme in complex couplets. It’s an Almighty assonance that belittles the asinine, often as a nine spray, damage is delivered as the mind sprays—truly a wax justice of performed equality where the music rulership is declared universally. North of the United States ghettos they flow in the terror pitch of Shing Shing! The sounds of sharp and swiftly re-capitated minds in this wilderness of scorched America. Hip Hop music can be merited in either direction, positive or negative, but all great lyrical regimes have symmetry of sincerity, skill and ideas at extreme levels. With Cell Therapy, Symmetry of Canada’s The Almighty Shing Shing Regime works these intentions with an effortless quickness over professional tough production from Tha Professa.
Symmetry is a lyricist that reaches his peaks when he layers his vocals with dexterous word coupling and reaches a groove, in varying tempos, that lets his verse be completely conversational. This is a rare gift as it’s a style of delivery difficult to master where the MC is not making you listen but allowing you to listen closely. Symmetry, honored with a knowledge of self, exudes his supremacy with a ladder to others as on the dynamically unique advisory toward lemon water’s benefits (“Cell Therapy”). The ill opener, “The Cipher,” where his slowed tempo captures metaphors for insight and lets them go for a new one(“adjust your topic/niggas too toxic…ebony conflict/complement the coffin indeed/I take precaution while I bake the codfish/paid homage/straight from any bondage/I gave you knowledge/in return they blew the cartridge/game on/no stoppage/free the princess/neighborly interest/favored the big text nigga/they asked Allah for a yard but the God gave them inches…”), revealing Symmetry’s technique in refocusing abstract lines. On “In Tune,” the double entendres are doubled up brilliantly (“organic with the force the planet push/circumcised vision/keep your eyes peeled/use your head niggas/raise the dead/you could hear the mics cure/reinvent the wheel/we were meant to feel mathematics…”) while “G-Code” recombines the themes of the album that the Original man is God, the matrix red pill is being served and there’s no mystery god coming to save us.
Though the LP has such a brevity at 33 minutes, its understanding of technique and understanding of insight can easily be missed. The brilliant quoting of the great sage of the modern era, Jiddu Krishnamurti, sets a tone on Symmetry’s themes shared on what is (“Can we not radically bring about a transformation of the mind? Not accept things as they are but to understand it, to go into it, to examine it. Give your heart and mind with everything that you have to find out a way of living differently”) and what we truly are (“You, yourself, are the teacher and the pupil, you are the master. You are the guru, you are the leader, you are everything!”). It extends into every song in a daily living context of man just being the God as opposed to God being some exalted extra-terrestrial being. So on “Prhymes 8’s” we hear Symmetry just noting how rhyme ciphers lead to the responsibility of just reppin’ the oppressive truths that sting Scarborough, Ontario. “ItsLikeDat” portraits his logic in a more enforced enunciated flow he hadn’t really used prior while his flow reaches a slowed conversation to relate brotherly sentiments on “Mr. Rice.” The charismatic persona that Symmetry just begins to carve reaches born on “Bodhidharma (The Sifu)” though the album ends immediately upon its last snare. Through it all, Symmetry allows the listener to travel through his cleverness to then leave them at stops of insight.
Beatwise, the tracks are capsules of professional work from Tha Professa. “G-Code” beautifully loops the legendary Queen Phyllis, while “Bodhidharma (The Sifu)” has racing strings through a filling vinyl crunch. Tha Professa, with an MC with little limitation, can dive into many tempos from the fast thumping keys of “Not For Minors (The 2nd Draw)” to the smooth bass drums, timed cymbal smashes and empowering piano keys riffing through. Tha Professa’s diversity is subtle here perfectly formatted to Symmetry’s techniques and spotlighting his ideas. A producer who knows how to make tracks to fill a room, he uses Symmetry’s verses as the major instrument commendably.
Cell Therapy is a too short LP of a higher craft of writing and after thousands of albums heard and ignored, too few will realize that the enthrall of the rhyme is the deep crater of hypnotic thought they can let us travel into. Indeed, Symmetry MCs in that exalted excavated cipher.