Screenshot 2017 02 21 12 50 26 1By SUNEZ [ #SkillastratorLO #PowerWrite ]

The walking trails of the wetback white, the traitor to his people, no longer welcome at the trailer park.  His home has wheels that keep him building through the caravans of world cultures. His click is filled with props’ passports past hicks turbaned with sloganed trucker mesh caps. Take-A-Lyric-And-We-Greet-Again on his 5950 red fitted, a crown toward a better residency despite the presidency. These rare rebels are usually coded in Hip Hop’s counterculture borning verses, the same work once done below Sumerian skies…

Code Nine is part of a crew of emerging experts. They rhyme in precision, like awhole team with Kyrie handles, their ideas and experiences can travel anywhere on the breakbeat courts. Tragic Allied constantly spoil us as if this trait is a simple desire of choice fulfilled as opposed to talent cultivated of the hardest work.  Code Nine has no weaknesses in dexterity.  No tempo has him out of breath, his syllable formats constantly match and melodify his cadence and his infections and intensity never stumble his flow.  “Laughter and Tears” he’ll play with speeds while “Forces of Nature” the consistency of slow tempo raises the significance. Code Nine smoothes and charges with battle raps (“Blood Soaked Pages,” “Goose Tatum”) but has a written gift for the intrigue of painting slanged scenery (“Clock Tower”) that also visualizes memories nicely (“Baptized In Hennessey”).

Purpose supplies aural beds with popping drums and cinematic strings. In this Invisible Renaissance, the precision of Boom Bap is essential without flaw. When the listener enthuses himself and lets the well chosen drums dive him into the pocket that Code Nine revels in then the wonderful diversity of ideas and sounds can emerge.

This unity of beat and rhyme is expected from Tragic Allies and when we see the works made Below Sumerian Skies we see trials expressed (“Unspoken Of”) in a stream of conscious chaos that dispels frustration, anger and persistent focus to persevere.  “Polar Nights” he verses, “This a blackout, Operation Mockingbird/vertical stripes and fellas trying to cop a third/pocket purging on Persian products leave optics blurred/I clocked a hundred on the dash, splash your optic nerve/star gazing through these Rayban frames/reality’ll leave the same name drained…” that is a capsule of his word phrasing, the syllable synergy and the wordplay that is very well developed. Below Sumerian Skies is an urban survival chronicle, an art capsule of the daily mentals Code Nine walks his Lynn, Mass matrix with. It’s a powerful trail.

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