“Some rappers use hooks to their shit/But if you took that shit out/And you took all the music outWhat would remain?”
– “Mostly Tha Voice” – Guru7 (#RememberedInPerfection) of Gang Starr
Yo, Peace God Universal Ruler Universe, I got an understanding on what it might be. Today’s music are truly sounds of hypnotized sequence. The Black music world is pop from the labeled rap to R&B to everything they’ll place in between and around. It’s really all hooks and nearly all Hip Hop derived. So there is a lust of the driving bass but no drum crafting. There is somber, often powerfully emotive music but no sampling so there is usually no history to attach it to. So the drama of the surrounding orchestration is brought forth with tinny rapid firing synth snares and high hats.
The #DarkAges, the 2000’s, when the essence of who and what was Hip Hop was defined and promoted by mass media and industry together. An always potentially counter-cultural grit diluted to mere brash rebellion. A musical revolution into an anarchist purge. See, the 90’s can easily dismissed lyrically as drug dealing and crime obsessions but the depth within there is where the understanding lies. Brothers were just finding keys to brick but the keys to remedy mental sickness. The streets had vials of cracks and them isles of classes, savagery in rusty pipes and that civilization classes through summer nights. That criminal rapper had the potential to strive for perfection and because all the linx were around him to take command of.
By the end of the #DarkAges the greater potential gave way to the mere fiscal end game. It wasn’t about using a culture to gain your freedom but a mere brash freedoms embraced to sloppily piece a facade of a culture. So songs are from the junkies perspective, mumbled and insecure, craving immediate gratification, lamented the failure of anything else. The weakest role player in all of capitalism’s churning engine of racism. Hip Hop was supposed to be the Black/Brown/Down teens’ catapult. They no longer had to see themselves in a transition to despair, underdeveloped and doomed to wickedness by an imposed weakness; rather, they were raw materials of the most high kin, more supreme than the supreme from which they derive, the best part. The art they make wouldn’t project their mere fears and hatreds relaying sins and wrongs. It would begin to write a history in advance of who they will be, looking behind as much as it tells of around. The idealism, the heart of the young that travels the blood of creativity into the arm, leg, leg, arm and head that funnel, formulate and foster the Art born. The heart is often there in today’s youth, even as they use trapped sounds and corrupted vocal palettes to construct. This is the way we create the culture…
…And Create The Culture then cops the claim to carry the command. With an upcoming EP entitled Create, they have the sensibilities to do such. But much of their tools are impaired by the ciphers that they come out of. Regardless of the diversity in ethnicity and race they truly have all assembled in Canada, any groups’ soul, or lack thereof, is from the surroundings they embrace or reject. With “On Road” and “Found My Way” leading the EP, I wish they would reject even more of the said way. See, the pop formula in all things begins with the lyrics only focusing on sentiments that the vast populace must nearly always relate to. With today’s Black music, dubbed urban, it’s reduces merging of realizations toward knowledge of self and soulfully angered passion to a mere new Black angst of lost mindfulness. It’s all wokeness and one is forever in awake in the dream of frustrated nothingness. These are all rooted in the vessels of criminal victor vs. doomed junkie loser.
“On The Road” verses i been on the stroll for some time/don’t know if i’m seeing right/my vision’s a little blurred/i poured my heart out/i feel so empty now/i think i need a refill/hand me another drink…” through a cryptically appealing wailing digi-sonic behind the trappy ticks and tickles and funky bass wah wahs filling the club. The club, all reality that our culture will now originate from the fucking club. There’s no way to express our culture but through the darkened and gloomed space of the club where ideas are dropped while in the midst of getting fucked up. Yet, who will not relate? Oppressed people are in depression and those with privilege either cash in and have no real worth or stay lost trying to rid themselves of all they are receiving regardless to Nat or rebellion. The rhymed verses are beta male blues that call for the wave. The shit is grooving like the enjoyable dive into a slumber we had fought to stop for minutes, hours and even days.
“Found My Way” immediately dives into the beta male diary entries of the lost to make the softest laments for love and loyalty I have yet to hear recorded. If these cats are pissed, it’s harmless, a true angst. The back and forth chant bars really are trancing as they say and the high hats dribble to drivel and the the snare comes in through another deeply vroomed bassline, the trapped sound of the lit after hours. Only the thickness of basslines seem to survive and only for the express purpose of an appropriated dancehall groove to keep some semblance of rhythm attached to it.
The culture was miscreated back in them #DarkAges when 808s were used to crossover and Hip Hop was dismissed as a mere dance music citing the park jam origins without the expressive fight and the counter-cultural development. And now genetically modified subgenres as trap are the guiding models for all of rap popply pumped and R&B sung with too little defining soul. Create The Culture may be making music they love, truly engaged, but the forums are so stale and formulaic I only hear manufactured machinations.
#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