There in core to lack Sun…
Some of the characters that stole Miguel Pinero’s biocentrics disdain scripts.
a number runner,
a substance dealer
a woman wheeler.
We ill her? No, but surely the clever chauffeur of the begotten Earth down to the lost planets. Them that be the pourer of the captured femme, to the corner rolled open to all. So she must be ever poorer and ye greener…
Master of Characters against the manipulation of caricatures. Well now, that Master Choreographer of words delivered only needs the select orchestra. Before the orchestra is pitted, I often think on the way we have a counter cultural gem upon one release. Then another day, a nigga dance with the innovation of digression like Run DMC 808s played 20 years later by a tone def robot in an endless downgrade. So I stay creating Art on countercultural Art but often it’s just skillastrating against a subculture. And all around the barracks of the elements are floods of the bio-killacle bubbles of pop. But LO and beholden, release the plackets of your Polo, this #InvisibleRenaissance has constantly countered with duos that you know but you never thought would groove so. And now there is a latent illness about to flop the deluge of pop bubbles in all characters spelled in capitals, Jericho Jackson. The characters against the caricatures, Elzhi and Khrysis.
An MC that declares their work, “Come up with some new rhyme schemes and patterns/
Different cadences, accurate wordplay…” (“To Do List”) as Elzhi does, has floated into the regions of smooth confidence. He builds on what he’s delivered while he’s delivering it. An expertise of tempo, clarity in all flows and inflections that reflect at every pitch, for a verbatim journal of intimate thoughts. A Black man with his head on swivel on the outside that microscopes inside barring out a dope that never fizzles.
Elzhi rhymes leaving emotional fragments everywhere and it’s his technicality that amazes immediately. It is a wordplay that takes extends metaphors to their peak and then leaves them before they become stale. Such an important point as a core of MCing is the battle bar and defeating the wack MC is the most overused metaphor. More than a million Long Players have been forged in mediocrity extending metaphors of some other shit to be the same fucking anonymous rapper that doesn’t exist that gets destroyed, regardless to whom or what. As a militant aside, this becomes a crucial emphasis favored by the gentrifying white niche market that loves their real rap destroying Blacks that don’t exist. Remember, it’s the pop white market that like hearing Blacks actually rap about killing Blacks.
…And the seller of the powdered soils, that stumble into the constant breath of life. And so add to what so many have minused with the wonder of digital surprise. A push of the protruding to select others and a lottery is made, a grafted swirling of math that earns no one their fortune…
So Elzhi, with a wonderful legacy of never saying anything regular, constantly devising new ways to say some of the simplest shit will ruin at least 40 others LPs with bars, again. The brother doesn’t say niggas is crazy or just simply use the slang ‘7:30’ but “Me get ate? Not on my watch/It could be half past 7, then thirty minutes pass…” and his fearlessness in life there can never be basic (“Science and dollar signs are underneath my D fitted/Saw a light at the end of the tunnel, I lit my tree with it/That’s just how I’m blazing, nothing short of amazing…” – “Self Made”). The metaphors even begin with the song title, “Cuffin Season” where the double entendre immediately activates from the first bar. It’s a cautionary tale to brothers wilding so “when the streets turn cold, it’s cuffin season.” You watch out for the pigs cause it’s cuffin season and cuffin a wiser wisdom is the greener side of the entendre’s Earth to lay with. The tracks is layered with so much slang that isn’t supposed to make such quick sense but the stubbornness to rewind and marvel is the point. From “For they kids, they engage then get married to the street/Find theyself addicted to the lovin’ that they kill for…” that dazzle to immediate stop-the-fucking-play to ponder the depth of “So when the streets talk, hope is at a low volume/Young boy lost his freedom just to get respect from it.” Knowledge that again: “So when the streets talk, hope is at a low volume/Young boy lost his freedom just to get respect from it” where the first line is just a smooth layup for Elzhi where the word choice of ‘volume’ is superb. But then the jewel is laced where he really revealing the rebellion of the youth was to attain a freedom itself now he’s getting locked up for it. And Elzhi brilliantly exposes the folly of emotion (“Couldn’t tell a gut feeling from a upset stomach”) and these questions of Freedom finding with no Culture grounding when he says, “Was it justified for a good for nothing reason?”
…Hold back hate with the levers of poverty and by the sparks of niggery, let the shiny, manufactured impelling mettling return your humanity to the essence. Tomorrow, across the woman wheeler’s pimping and the substance dealers pitching, the delegations for the deceased pour spirits to the concrete…
This MCing got pockets and too many niggas rhyming with yoga pants on, stretching their words into slop sounds and mumble physical groans. Alot of downward bitches with corrupted childs’ prose, the weakness of the groove is their only salvation. So nah, man, stay! Listening to Elzhi on powerful Khrysis structures is to listen to technical gifts bound and arranged illy. When he throws battle bars on “Talkin’ Bout” at a select pace and whilst way deep in the pocket’s seams he easily shifts tempo with no vocal stress flowing, “Exquisitely put if I say so myself/And you won’t cause you’re vanilla/Hate to be the one to tell ya/That my setbacks isn’t failure/And you’ll never be this stellar/Sure you’re laughing to the bank, but you whining in the cellar…” On the other classic cautionary build here, “Seventeen,” his track changes and on the new tempo, his intensity calmly sustains. Elzhi never sacrifices his clarity giving you every chance to catch the wordplay, the metaphorizing and the entendres within the already worthwhile subject matter. So he can end verse with a poetic chorus that abruptly makes its point, “Those are repercussions that you probably ain’t seen/Hope you make better decisions when you eighteen/If you doing jail time and swipe the slate clean/Hope you make better decisions when you eighteen/Once you learn the definition of what fate mean/Hope you make better decisions when you–”
…These places we come from where the greatest failures are these consistent brigades of financial success that have become the decor. The embellishments of wrongs that even gentrify the integrity of the hard fought spoken song…
Musically, Khrysis blends mood inducing basslines with extremely deep drum tracks arranging around and through Elzhi’s verses. Driving him with beat changes as on the aforementioned “Seventeen” or rocking the classically hype dark light horns with a vrooming bassline with the drums fighting through on “Self Made.” Ingeniously amplifying the click on “Sexy Mama” for “Seventeen,” the stringed scores unshelved for “To Do List,” the skipped bounce on “Talkin’ Bout,” or the straight boom that wails on “Overthinking.” There’s a lot of addiction on this and it’s a blessing the duo’s named so we know Elzhi’s words can have a stable home and Khrysis can emerge in this #InvisibleRenaissance in the most high manner. An LP where Elzhi builds on friends versus #RespectFAKE, intimately salutes through the struggle (“Thank You”), portraits the worst paths and still battle bars exceptionally (“You claim you’re flames when it’s only hell” – “Breguets”). Still, as the debut for Jericho Jackson and the assumption this is merely a beginning, this can literally be a mere practice run for these talents. Now that’s something to overthink and blow our brain watts as that toxic pop characters resurface.
these Pinero demons,
with a mind of Chief Head flesh.
Denim the paper
And let pen Supply
These unbreakable ankles draped
in Polo camo moccasins,
a blind illness that spear themselves
back into existence.
Balladeer the babies
away from them short eyes!!!
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