A military mandate set in tone, conspired in tempo and rhythmed into a soul’s manifesto. Trans-real, those fluctuating in the winds of conforming convenience, need not apply to these barracks where we bloody for the principle and impregnate rebellion into the foundlings. It is that #RespectFAKE will be concentrated in the clutch of their own corruption, to expire in the camp of their lost klues, sloppy klutz and grafted klans…
…These are the small stories of working men that can till the toils of life into the vegetables of warrior’s directive and the fruits of engaging rhythms. Prolific, I will chronicle their necessity every season of song their cassette-wheeled oxen roll the verse carts violently through #RespectFAKE lands…
Dom Pachino’s life of work is a beloved institution of hardcore. Teraban is his first farm that feeds. Bugsy da God is one of its supremely gifted heirs.
To hear them duo on Camouflage Children is to have the stereo effect of Pachino’s idiosyncratic exuberance bounce from the left whilst Bugsy’s breathless intensity drive on in the right. Alpha male G’s on the extremist anthems in a beta-blah atmosphere, this is a record that will be disrespectfully dismissed under every code word of respect possible. Because this is a Boom Bap record, lyrics revolving around street crime survival (“High Octane”), a refusal of conformist adaptations of any kind (“F*ck Politics”) and a resultant embrace of what Hip Hop ought to be (“Hip Hop Don’t Flatline”) all leading to ideal performances as such (i.e. “Dead Silence,” “Expert Killers”). It cannot be understated that an LP of obviously clear and wondrously rigid stance must excel by its own technical craft. Just as Pachino’s LPs of this #InvisibleRenaissance (2010’s) have achieved a mastery of the Killarmy niche, a world of seemingly ambiguous militant rhymes in driving flows and cryptic and epic beats, that are a universal score for the indigenous sufferahs battling, so has this Teraban debut done so.
This Killarmy template is refreshed on CC because the soul is there. Pachino rhymes with the tone of intriguing arrogance, an undefeated Mayweather with the speed of tempo of the hungry block MC. Bugsy doesn’t merely do what every #DarkAges (2000’s) underground peddler do, grafting BIG PUN (#RememberedInPerfection) terribly til their bars sound like slopped diddy-ba-diddi-diddly. He takes the lyrically verbose GRap/KillaSin/ShabazzTheDisciple/PUN monotone machine into enormously consistent clarity of perfectly syllable formatted bars where we see the commas, hyphenation and exclamations in detail. Bugsy is immediately in the pocket on every track as every verse seems prepared in his mind beforehand, planned in pace, required energy and emphasis of inflections. A calculating MC completely contrasted with Dom Pachino whose cadence is wildly unstable where in-the-pocket bursts are interrupted by slowed word phrase poses or accelerated by shoving an extra two to three words into the bar. Confused as a lack of qualitative technique, the contrast to Bugsy only highlights the mastery in infusing passion and varied cadences to booming bap that shifts little.
Swatzikas still point to the news of their demise,
North to the Caucus,
East away from the stolen sacredness,
West where it wilds as wrong writ and
South, deep where the scintillae of savagery pretend supremacy.
Scramble the presidential briefing
of an invading craft upon the wandering mind.
A genetically modified and sloppily shrinked wrap,
the return of the cracker,
an orange crunch of definitive stupidity,
intended to to put fear back into the babies…
The Pachino & Bugsy interplay is immediate on “Ring the Alarm” where Bugsy hypes PR Terrorist’ s verse and dives into the chorus smoothly. It continues into the powerful “War Potion” where the Dash Shamash pumping horns and blasting vocal wails ignite the MCs’ continuous back to back internal rhyme filled verses. From Bugsy versing, “…step to Teraban you contemplate suicide/kill like genocide/systematically you won’t survive” back to Pachino, “Revolution time/only solution on my mind/knowledge of self made my power divine,” the flows engage. When Dash lays a much more big beat drum smash with vigorous cymbal crashes on “Assault Island,” Bugsy tempos it slower and draws scenarios of enemies’ doom whilst Pachino’s tone stays in his ideal confrontational-conversational questioning his sanity with clever inflections (“Look at the pain in my eyes/x-rays look at the fragments in my right thigh/look at them so-called killers in your entourage/they told the Sarge that I got bodies in my garage, well… ” Then there is the beep blessed, digi-boom drum glips of “Smell the Roses” from Dunnezy where Bugsy hits his punctuations on the most basic core of Hip Hop topic, the hardcore battle, his word choices are deft, the secret to his flow having perfect synergy (“to the fanaticas,/ thank you for having us/it must be real nice to have some niggas of our calibur/to all our enemies, we swing the excalibur/collapse your organ matter/we stabbin’/the blood splatterin’…”). The evil drone horn on Anthai’s “F*ck Politics” is where Dom P dominates with his oft-kilter timing, as he stomps, then marches, then sprints, then stops and swings fists verbally warring, “Fuck Politics/suck a solid dick/with lips filled up with collagen/for those who ain’t acknowledging/the Terrorist movement, the Napalm agenda/we growing rapidly, I got troops out in Kenya…” Then listen for the upcoming line fit into less than half a bar’s time, “you thought you was pushing through with your crew” and you’ll hear the peak of his signature style. It’s really where techniques shape a style of tone and deliver an MC’s innate charisma.
Also, as MCs that make LPs you value as lone instrumentals as well, Dom and Bugsy have the added pressure of absolutely having to pick the greatest of tracks. Killarmy and thus Napalm, is a brand–no, a peoples’ military score that demands the toughest tracks, addictive drum forces with horns, pianos, strings and digital orchestras that siren the aggression of fight. As the solo works of Pachino and Bugsy, Camouflage Children excels in mixing the legends (4th Disciple), the approaching legends (Bronze Nazareth), ill veterans (Falling Down) and the sharp upstarts (Dunnezy, Dash Shamash) that blend into an LP filled with diverse drum work from its impact sounds, through its eqs to its patterning and a consistent musical bedding that harkens back to the great Killarmy LPs and the sound developed by Pachino’s lengthy solo catalog.
Camouflage Children is another hardcore treasure and actually will only be diluted by the many more works Teraban releases afterwards on the same or higher level. Their MCing techniques and the possibilities for them to even dive deeper into concepts are even suggested here. Ultimately, it’s a travesty that niggas old and young be lonzoing, longing for the deflated balls of #RespectFAKE rappers that just dribble drivel. It takes love for and loyalty to original creativity to stay saluting warriors as Teraban.
Teraban mission protocol to the parameters of Lesson C1:1-36.
The uniforms camo’d with the three pillars blend:
knowledge of self–the blacks, browns and yellows;
love and loyalty–the reds of understanding and the royalty purples;
and the original creativity shades–
the thinking man blues and only the earned green,
deemed only to redeem the precious precocious.
Camouflaged to weaponize the greatest warriors
in the plains of the leeches’ hatred,
the children’s assault commences…
BUY CAMOUFLAGE CHILDREN HERE
#LOVEandLOYALTY A #LoLife
The organization of these principles around a counterculture, an expressive arts of creation that uplifts the ideas and thoughts of an oppressed people, is why I’m an honored builder amongst legends, knighted by heroes of Medina (Rakim Supreme Shabazz Allah/Rudy Lo, Thirstin Howl the 3rd, Bonz Malone) to further create in my element as a Hip Hop Writer of #ArtOnArt & #ScienceOnMusic. So the world may find love that locks in with the action of loyalty though they may never find another writer with my kind of grammar…
Representing the pillars of:
Peace, Sunez Allah