Another of the last days where every countercultural product is sold to a comfortably confined kid. Tear ducts damned by millions of twerks and dense wax of dulled musicianship frivolize the ear. Digital degradation saves the altered beauty of a pitch product’s cover so amazingly three dimensional buttocks prelude fecal matter that clocks four minutes and too many seconds. Stolen seconds become a looped fifteen minutes of fame where the blaow upon blaow of the motion of photoshopped fatty, untouched by these confined custies, glosses their minds again and again. You, the top 40 supporter, low fi thinker, damned pretty hiccup occultist are asleep, a slave to every maculate melody and rote anti-rhythm. In the plantations of audio hip pop, Ebro quietly turns the transistors on while you nap on his statistical justifications for your slumber. Hip Hop feels safe as you reach REM (Rhyme Extermination Mode) sleep a Rosenberg may play a tiny consolation packet of gutter cuts in a distant room of half-assed walls.
To awaken them, a thunder of collected words pounds and the lightning of its content sets fires of counter-questioning ablaze. These seconds seep through the rain of fallen cream and become seeds to deeper hours, days, months and years. A counterculture replanted through the fecal matter on the stolen fields of our rebel minds. Today, a seed of these is grown and MCs emerging focused out of sleep to Survive Life and Examine Every Perspective. A smoother tone over intense lyrical density with a slicker built flow for the turbulence of snare crunches, bassdrum explosions and lovely chops of sound, Sleep Sinatra is a refined voice, youthfully killing the m.i.c.
Another of the lyrical saviors emerging this decade, with 2 EPs and 2 LPs, Sleep Sinatra’s Monsters and Children arrives as a focused art work. It is an audio breakbook of lyrics that chronicle the trials of a young father, an Original man in an oppressive society and an MC of a music being killed as he verses. Sleep Sinatra’s technical gifts are immediate in his clarity and his rhyme layering that allow him to make vivid battle imagery as on “Heavy Nova” (“My discipline cyborg like samurai stance/ Yoshimitsu I’m hitting artillery with the clan/my biomechanics genetically branded in codes/stampede globes/I turn the continent into a whole/morph an wasteland into an oasis/deep stasis/my heaven in my heart/you searching in the wrong places…”) or directly detail the conflicts in his art crafting as on “BloodSweatTears” (“I place my bone bristle in this craft I’m writing like every 16 is a vision that I’ve had/intuitive although at times I’m too easily detached/how you maintain? At least I got the decency to ask/a self-made path/the destiny that we going on/that’s why I study horoscopes but don’t fall for a card show/keep swinging left and rights because life can deal a hard blow/it’s hard enough to keep an audience until the bar close/like who trying to starve/I see that it’s a far road/I just want my Art to pick you up if you lost hope…”). A master of insight in contemplation, his word choices are supreme (“undergrad in the esoteric secrets/certain things you can’t unlearn/gotta find peace within” – “Endgame”) elevating honest observation into art.
As evidenced on “Strangers” with a syllable matched flow with subtle inflections on the bar or his pacing that punches along the thuds of “Riddle of the Sphinx,” Sleep rhymes inside the pocket with an effortlessness that is awarded the more he records. On “Black Atlas,” the sharp snare and thick bass grooves bring a spirited uplifting militancy at an upper mid tempo. All throughout, Sinatra’s skill set is of the most refined, the most coveted of the MC that can be important, the one we need to listen to when pensiveness and reflection need breaks as a score.
Beatwise, the tracks are precisely ill beds for these sounded words. “HellWorld(TheEscape)” by Downtown James Brown is an ill funk guitar bass womp that reenergizes each bar. “Endgame,” by INFNTLP, has soothing harps fluttering and guiros scratching as the high hats while Veks’ “Holy Armor” sparkles notes on crunched 1,2 drums for Sleep’s lyrical hindsight. Sm-Grims humming out-siren and conga’d break on “The Rules” free up the cinema of tales while “Thunder & Lightning” by Sassoon with vocal chips, guitar quips and horns reloading let Sleep Sinatra relate his growing pains and the stories of others to reveal our flaws we can rid ourselves of with awareness and inspiration.
Today, there is acceptance of MCs that grossly bite the legends so instead of openly receiving a disciple of a school building more to the curriculum, this old thing and that actioned biter can delight with little content and no progression. Out of the school of many greats, including NaS, Sleep Sinatra has all the tools that make an MC important beyond the entertainment value of his deft flow, word choices and effortless rhythm. With Monsters And Children, the last days commence with great honor.