Mantras in the mire of the mission.
Curriculums awarded to those suspending belief
in all beliefs
To disrespect told tales is a platform
towards education building, mind to word.
Leaving the maya of minding mere words,
this awkward world of ascetic skeptics,
Feeding in the fast and reading ham out of the psalms…
There are many stories of “natural, organic men applying dope intellectual culture.” Those of a nomadic nature because every epoch has had its hells. Hells based on the manipulation of our own illusions, as some sects name maya, and the veils of sin that shield our supreme mind from creating creation as creators. And we may travel from the ancients from the root of Nubia through the flowering Kemit, venture through as the Indian Yogi with expanded lungs utilizing prana to seeing self truly, or as the western man R.A. dubbed, the unitive state, from those storytelling Sufis. It’s today and the travels are no longer exotic after so many fail in the destination. We forgot enlightenment is a journey itself as I sit here in a much more arrogant counter-culture. In a swaggering humility, they say, skillastrating in the era where Allah, the Father, taught my teachers the knowledge of self. And the songs we listen to are from the poorest people with some of the richest words. And when an MC sees themselves as Nomadic again, it means their mind is in a targeted wandering. A wonderful wandering where their life is in the moment of the break, the loveliness of the word, the amazement of its layering over surround sounds, all consistent and persistent, all changing and fluctuating. Sounds holy but it’s just a peak of Hip Hop we need and rarely hear. A peak that this Nomadic emcee shoots for and strikes in an amazing journey.
Nomadic is a young brother, radicalized to the plight yet elevated with a broad insight. He attacks as the most furious battle bar MC but also engages the theme of enlightenment in all of its paths that he has encountered. This is a time when my most lucid example of #RespectFAKE is often the entire historical reign of the Cuban musical community in Miami. Yet Nomadic, a Cuban brother out there is immune, bench pressing books, deadlifting MCs and squatting the heaviest metaphysical thoughts on which is refreshing. So we will fly past the many years of diluted rhumbas, mambos timed in Caucasian clave and cooned concertos of ruffled shirts and strapped congas whilst Fidel’s revolution produced the most progressive Soneros. And we will jump past the poppery of the Estefans and the sublime lowlights of Pitbull to find Nomadic, an actual MC, who rhymes with a technical excellence few dare to challenge themselves towards.
This entire decade is an #InvisibleRenaissance of music, supremacy deep beneath the Tekashi-lardened surfaces. Nomadic joins a rare breed of men of excitingly abnormal lyrical dexterity. Like Hex-One and Tek-nition of Epidemic, Ill Conscious, Reks or Starvin B, to name a few, Nomadic fills the entire space of the song with word sounds. His vocals begin and end in the pocket while they hustle and bustle in there. All the while his theme of a man seeking more knowledge to draw out the best of himself, the essence of education as Rabindranath Tagore taught in his ashrams, is always there.
Begin smoothly first with“Watch the World,” where Neckclippa booms a track in a sweet crescendo with sparkled strings, horns and Prodigy (#RememberedInPerfection #RIP) samples that observe, warn and attack into a slow, mid-tempo groove. Nomadic sits in the session metaphorizing and similizing for the quantum emphasis of vastness with, “Sometimes i watch the world spinning as the Buddha burn/feel like a sperm cell as I’m swimming through the universe/seeking knowledge/my writtens polish every brain diamond/the game’s shaman/I never worry about my chain shining/we stay grinding on that ill tip and digging deeper/a bit of reefer got my skill sets/a split a speaker/heads’ll burst/you know what I’m about/I’m about teaching lessons first…”
The mid-tempo mastery Nomadic displays is a dexterity that couples strong enunciation with intense inflection styles. It brings the listener into a sedated listen-ready position when the tracks are filled with the thickness. On “Astral Projections,” 8Cee marvels the bass drum as it pounds as if Thor’s hammer smashed down on an alien cruiser in orbit. Nomadic then punctuates hard on the one with celestial sci-fi metaphors, “Yo, don’t ever try to solar eclipse/ my aura’s mad thick/I cause an orbit to slip/knock you off your axis/even when I’m blowing a spliff/I cause a massive explosion/known for spitting xenomorphic acid…” On Veks’ chimed bells and steady keys for “Goddess,” he loves his lady supremely with countless mythological comparisons of beautiful and powerful women.
The leadoff title track where One.44 bangs an upper mid tempo drum that is sparse on a drumroll loop, with a flowing bassline groove is in an in-the-pocket, flow showcase for Nomadic with clever punchlines, intensity inflections and speed ups. As noted, space is filled with very little pausing as he floods, “When I educate ’em it’s like the Buddha defecating; my shit’s divine/And so I spit a rhyme as renovation/lyrical type of meditation, trying to reach enlightenment/ through this devastation…” He ultimately ends the last verse in an exciting double time flow and now we know,what I know, on what he also knows, that which we ought to know about who the true and living God is: “Nomadic is one of the best,/the one that nobody could test/But nevertheless I’m at it again/ when packin’ a pen/ I’m actually God in the flesh/Who wanted it next?/ Who droppin’ it fresh?/ If it isn’t dope it don’t concern me/So just take a breath…” The battle bar tracks are pure enjoyment, textbook strong Boom Bap representations as “Quite Like This” and as he battles more, the metaphysical becomes a bar as through “Metalyrical” (“Cause when I write an article, your reality shatters/Create matter, metaphysical, hyper lyrical/Mastered spiritual practice to crack the spherical platter/I break records, I don’t rap I display lectures…”).
Elimination of the ego was the hit single
Knowledge of Self was the classic album
The garments are another rumpled grammy
and any sales, followers and praises tell of a wisdom
as sullied as spilt Henny or imbibed bourbon.
So the journey embarked harkened the Yogananda tours.
When Gandhi made his own search in the self-merch and
Them Theo-so-phos lost a mystery when Krishnamurti went solo.
Wonder it all as the Baoding swirls the thoughts
through the pen of Laogong’s chamber
Signed to the imprint in the heart of the mind,
The label, Arm-Leg-Leg-Arm-supreme Head,
breaches the studio to the stage,
Preparation and Performance…
Inside Shepard’s “Rhymensions” is the LP’s thematic peak with his high hats and snares all hitting a low noted rhythmic cymbal crash. It crunches the drums and lets the bassline emphasize continuity as Nomadic verses on his most metaphysical thoughts on enlightenment. With a first verse that masterfully battle bars us through his personalized understanding of string theory working through the four dimensions cleverly relating them to his rhyme prowess, “Yo, we could see the three dimensions through the route and code connections but most of us blind past the blind ocular perception/not saying I’m enlightened but I like to drop projections so I wrote this rhyme so wrap yourself around this type of lesson/we all know the rest/horizontal, side to side and vertical, that’s up and down/planets all around but that’s empirical/check it, now that we know just where we stand/it’s time to give this theory a couple of strings and expand it like explosions/meaning we gonna need some kind of motion/even fish need some kind of gravity to swim inside the ocean/that means we flowin’/in fact, it means we growin’/cause you couldn’t germinate naturally unless the wind was blowin’/I spit what’s known as a highly corrosive acid/I’m trying to give you the notion my flow is explosive gases/fix your broken glasses and focus on what I mentioned/One through four is done/now check the rhyming dimensions…”
When the fifth dimension of thought comes the imagery is intriguingly spoken on without being distantly mythical but as a brotherly guide, “..ain’t starting point or ending point/we bending time and space/depending on where you standing even touch becomes a taste” and proceeds through the “hexagrammic radius” into the God number, the 7, and through to a third verse where his battle prowess is now a building nature, a supreme inner light outwardly manifesting through where he now can “travel through the cracks inside chronology/ancient astronomy/bio-spiritual type technology/allows me to describe how I flow through physical walls/you see, my mind is elevated to the point of no return/so when I meditate I feel my forehead slowly start to burn/my soul disperses and quickly levitates across the Earth,” ultimately reaching supremacy of making any and all thoughts reality. The oneness at the smallest level, quantum mechanically measured by the “Planck scale,” where he will become the embodiment of the unexplained dimensions, the “Calabi–Yau manifold.”
Nomadic b-boy bars string theory, an ever worked quantum theory, and concludes it as its intended goal as a unified theory by applying it as self realization. As we should and must. That is, the more we learn and see of ourselves, the more we will see how deeply we are the creator in our own creation, all of this is all of us. But this is how I take such a profound track as the God…
…The ultimate truth is that Nomadic deserves and demands repetitions of addiction with his skill sets and his progressing acumen. Nomadic, still, is more than dexterity and dense darts but a sincerity for the exploration of all things and this wonder is a subtle, sincerity that magnifies his delivery. If Hip Hop is truly worthy, then it is a counter-culture where a young Brown brother, an Original man, can explore his supremacy to us all in his greatest talents and gifts. And The Journey, this official debut LP will be a powerful start to a catalog of original, thoughtful illness for years and years forthcoming.
…Journey the liner notes for the laymen
or the lyric sheets for the disciples
Man is mind,
the thought is the tool,
the universe is the build
A story of the wavicle,
where the Black parts and the dark waves
laugh when the other man watch.
Black is the melanin everywhere,
Dark is the filled canvass ever filling.
The maker and the owner, Allah say
The observer is the observed, say J. Krish
So, the observation is?
The Creator is in his own Creation, Sunez been say.
But all still mired in the mission of the mantra,
Marking the Manhattan,
Moonlight on the soul,
Manifesting these Mecca matins
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 (creative author/principled journalist/honoring historian) 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…
Living and sharing the pillars of:
Peace, Sunez Allah