Sure as the swooshes, trees and horses run freely
The backs of medulla oblongatas covered in steel fragments, understanding of 120’s metal
The A-Alike be alike, see alike mettle
Avoid the D easy like a dyke dressed as a Disney princess.
At the rim of Rim’s timbs, a verse is tapped into a two step code,
Authenticity consonants on the break, vowels inflecting on the double bass and violence left on the snare.
Uh, one, two–One to one..Two!
Swerve around the soul
#InvisibleRenaissance still hard to see
a reup of reconnaissance,
On the block with Bubba Rock and Eddie Kaine,
pillars of the future stand at intention
Rim, the A&R of the street, the greatest apprentice
Wordplay that spills footsteps on the floor,
decals I could skillastrate you through
When he smiles and spins, the punchlines from an ole bin of bars you’ll never find fling
When he uprocks in strides, the interplay involving more than doe,
but dues paid in battle bars exhausting foes
He told me to protect my pivot before I built with him
Still twisted my ankle when the internal rhymes and chopped layering filled it up trim,
Slim minimalism reward dem,
Slum from the most elegant family P!
All praises due the dance of the drunk villin
Rim is at the crucial center of this entire builder’s era, the brother that plays with the fiendish curtains of the #InvisibleRenaissance. His work doesn’t posture as the Boom Bap gatekeeper but every incident of excellence, the sweat of the bars can be traced, the blood of beat integrity binds and the tears of losing rappers are smeared all on these gates. Verses that don’t make a fantasy land of good and bad but where the bad are as well meaning in righteous sounds as they are ruthless in pumping their pockets. A real world of contradiction, cleverness but not cunning on us with lesser skills thrown, comedic turns despite never swerving into coonery away from the central grit story.
If you don’t root for Rim then your aural life is heartless. There are no words to waste with that measure of disgust. These words are skillastrated here because even the serious listeners may not have noticed how extreme the techniques and talents Rim displays really are. The massive amount of incredible music released today in this extended #InvisibleRenaissance into the 20s means we salute the talented but we may not be studying the contours of the finish like we did Jordan’s mid-range post game.
Rim is a master in the pocket, keeping his cadence, vocal purity (what I’m saying is the lack of strain and alteration in his voice over the course of the record) and tempo mid range even in the most intense topics. On “New Drugs,” Vinyl Villain fills the cipher with deepened piano thumping and Rim marches right through it. Entering with great layering, “Brownsville, we don’t do the fair/want the smoke/ you ain’t gotta bring it cause we take it there/ be aware/ just to be alive…” through the second verse with, “…had a couple run ins/ if you don’t go stupid for the bread/ then you dumbin for them bands/ know i’m drummin/ hummin/ easy to shoot the gun’ll run off quick/ but it’s different when you stabbed/ feel that warm blood drip.” Rim’s higher pitch is a small dagger to his verse sword reaching a higher pitch on choruses that contrasts into the next verse a dive back into the pocket waters. The waters of a filtered horn blaring, circling chimes and thick pound out drums that Villain throws are colors to the artwork Rim stencils. “Peeka boo and breaking a brick/ the middle look like Pikachu/ I hit my peak and flew to fill my pockets till it’s pita-ful/come play the fool/ some ain’t gotta act cause this is who they are/ never selling out for the bread but I’m about my carbs…,” Rim strokes all over “Da Thunning” in full flips of word structure mastery, word play and rugged charisma, a truly underappreciated blend few can assemble. The “vocal athlete/a bunch of trash on the stash sheets” (“Big Poppa Chakra”), Rim piles words together unlikely into a slang dialect of engaging wit (“Shorty told me my stick hitting/ you gotta wiffle bat for the kill/ it’s how I go in/ I never peel/ the bars are laminated cause clearly I gotta seal/Don’t let nothin stop ya/ that’s the mantra/ I’m raising my chakras/ while I’m playing Who Shot Ya”). The storytelling role playing multiple characters on “Watch Ya Moves” in Biggie honoring or the smooth lady salute on “HER,” Poetic Substance is a prose of flowing cleverness, the type of LP you rewind to get the prose and memorize in amazement.
The Vinyl Villain work is an addictive excellence of subtle grime the millennials call noir but it isn’t harkening back but this #InvisibleRenaissance sharpening its shelltoe tacks once more. A tradition of production Villain is in knows that the propelling of the vocals of the MC is the greatest arrangement. His breaks consistently thump and mash as opposed to snap and pop over Rim’s cooled timbre. “Pay What you Owe” soul jazz’d horns, the “Outro”’s hymning bassline, the organ crimes of “Big Poppa Chokra” or the flute fluttering of “Portraits.” The breaks really are similarly thumped but with variated rhythms and spacing that would perplex or expose a weaker lyricist. But this is Rim, an MC, who from DOA and Ugandan Lunch Meat through KeeP! It Ville and Algorythyms to this next peak of Poetic Substance is at a level of mastery too often overlooked, a perfect example of why I named this era the #InvisibleRenaissance.
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