DOM PACHINO – GEMINI MIND (DOM PACHINO vs P.R. TERRORIST) LP Review

By SUNEZ #SkillastratorLO #PowerWrite

“The room is old, Sigung.”

Thinking as my Master teacher strides along with his deceptive limp and cunning smirk, the wear and tear of once new things here along used pieces there all easily assimilating these newest things we bring. There are acres of floor that remind me of moves once mirror-neuroned wrong until their steps were forgotten. Kicks are no more the rooted step, swerve hip and coiled knee into midsection towards an extended out and clean, hard foot straight and sturdy. It’s now just my walking limb that becomes a wild whip that talks back to niggas and can treat every cracker like the trump they are. That floor got the swirls of sweeps, gutted holes of knives and swords thrusted and deflected and the depressions from rooted stances, butterfly kicks and all types of inventions we’d jump into. Three treasures, Sigung, master teacher, I still cling to.  So the room, when I walk in, smells like a battlefield of beats, incense and the newest ideas of freedom.

The balance of peace and war, the beauty of weapons extending the passages of minds qi’d into arms.  These are times where even the softest wonder of the fortitude of the hardest.  When the trap tracks derail and Killarmy drum talk is everyone’s solace.  Pachino returned with tomorrow’s classic crate, the Bronze Nazaeth produced War Poetry blending the battalion attack of many MCs while fusing his own declarations and personal anthems. Now back with a true solo, an album completely focused on his own ideas with more specific messages, the pressure is to preserve the militancy of a training score with the depth of an MC alone on a long player. Over 16 tracks, the blend is effortless, the beat selection is strong while the charisma and presentation of topics remains engaging.

Pachino remains a rugged stylist with a flow that speeds in the pocket of the LP’s wildest beats while slowing into commanding conversation that lays the groundwork of his everyday warrior theme. The bookends of the long player, “Step Into My Square” and “Mind As A Weapon” open and end with real talk jewels. “Know yourself boy, know your own strength,  build your physical up to go the whole length” lead offs the thematic intentions while the close is the definitive declaration of his refusal to compromise that after 20 years is a celebratory statement.  The battle tracks are some of this music’s best from “Red Dotz” to the syllable dense “Zodiac Killers,” the live smoothness with the God Planet Asia (“OGs & Real Killaz“) or the up-tempo flow of “Way Too Wavy” charge the first half of the LP. Much like War Poetry the detail is in the second half. Gemini’s second half is even more profound than last year’s War Poetry. The honorable Queen saluted on “Ryder With No Wheels,” the tale of greedy hustler (“Lots of Dough“), the rugged cleverness of the western film themed “Saloon Goon,” another anthemic turn with “We Work,” to the all too real savage baby momma drama that leads to an illegitimately garnished wage and a poorer parent to parent relationship, all to the child’s despair—“No More Drama.”

Dom Pachino is an MC whose quotables are pronouncements (“militant boom bap put my team on the map/now I carry the flag…Killarmy on my back…even if they rap no more they’re still my comrades…” – “Mind As A Weapon“) that further one of the most sincerely genuine roots of hardcore Hip Hop, Killarmy and mold it into song journal entries with a persona of realness to the sound, truth to the musical principles and a developed magnetic of unique toughness that is still special in such a crowded musical beat and rhyme world. The thematic centerpiece is clearly “Napalm” where the battle flows of demolishing MCs becomes a martial call to hate everything wack from trap trash, the effeminate dilution of our brothers and the sloppiness of today’s work with real rugged love: lyricism in perfect pace, music with a purpose to the poor and struggling and a crew of A-alike-minded sentiments with their own abilities.

So as I encircled powerfully into my rattan ring, Sigung told me, “We were once compassionate to the drum with a simpleness for the basic garment of truth. We lived the way so the young had the way. We could then lead by not leading. Three treasures that were as attainable as the breath now seem like holding handfuls of water.”

I understood and replied, “Teacher! We won’t let us blackwash anymore. To wipe away our supremacy for tiny toolage that’ll never uplift at any midnight hour.  We won’t let aging babies lift their skirts in defeat and remove shirts to receive whitelashes. The militants wont recruit emotions to lead anymore. And we will not curtesy to the murderers and cry for the sales on our souls.”

Beatwise, the selections preserve the thick, driving bass grooves Dom dominates.  The booming “We Work” or the plodding bass drum clap of the title track by Dunnezy, the menace of the piano riff through a horse beat march paced of Anthai’s “Saloon Goon,” the rolling drum work of “Red Dotz” by Bronze Nazareth, the wild wail through the bassline smashes on BP’s “Zodiac Killers” to 4th Disciple’s “Napalm” with its immaculate horns that cry past isolated strings letting Dom Pachino fire through. None of the young producers disappoint but Dunnezy stars and this album ought to propel his workload with real MCs. Pachino’s beat selection skills and his superb securing of sound quality and expert equalizing lead to thick crisp productions with clear, upfront vocals throughout. This strength is aided by his greater ability to go from select topics to battle bars all for a diversity that plays well to the addiction of song repeat as well as the extended listening journey.

Inside this last half of the decade, we are no longer in a rotting world with our wonderful counterculture popped out by corporate interests. Instead it’s an ever-changing world where the clowns trump the entire circus that leak oddities into the atrocities they lead the people through.  No other time is a music of concrete consistency, music where the immediacy of urban warfare is openly revealed, a music that drives through the boredom of the acceptable rehashes of Boom Bap niche is needed, greater than the sum of its parts or the revenue it charts and here, always welcomed premierely.

“Then it’s time to fight! It’s time to learn the ways of Puerto Rican Terrorism, the techniques that invade the lost and ravage the comfort of acceptance, the sirens to building. Unsheath your sword. Your sacred word, Sunez!”

 “Yes, Sifu!” And I fought…

Teacher!!!…

One mind rages, killing many

The symphony of too many mind in me slaughtered

Facts and finales funnel letterage in flowing tree sap

Timing storied in advance, smooth textures so they bleed precise

and sharper than—

40 acres filled with Vandana’s seeds

Hold my mule and enjoy a slow ride back to Caucasus

See the jewels…

I got means, teams,

manifestos, ghettos,

plans, clans

blogs, monologues,

writtens with

Whitaker—Abbott.

You fckn’ name it!

See what we build through…

Omitofu.

 

 

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