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Rating:
Griots, Bluesman, Jazzman, MC.
Four words, four rings of a single chain, which from Africa to America have geographically dragged the same social role: that of the one who keeps the memory of the community alive through storytelling; the storyteller who conveys the message in which the community sees itself reflected or, in more recent times, the "CNN of the ghetto", to quote Chuck D.
Dälek recovers the social value of old-school hip-hop, but in a less explicit way compared to their models: their verses remain more elliptical; loaded with metaphors and unresolved questions, vital in continuing to seek answers, despite the fatigue of the search expressed in gloomy and dark tones. The anger in the verses presses against the diaphragm and infuses the words with expressiveness, marking their flow.
On the musical side, in this second album from the group, Oktopus has no qualms about cannibalizing and exploiting psychedelic dilations, feedback, distortions, and white noise in a functional way for creating sound environments made up of dark, cinematic, and expressionist sounds, grafted onto obsessive and tribal percussion, sometimes slowed down to a crawl.
The twelve minutes of white noise in "Black Smoke Rises" at times evoke a radio seeking frequency, at others a radar scanning the route; the sitar at times in the foreground, at others relegated to the background like a music box in "Trampled Brethren"; rock reminiscent of the German psychedelic lesson from the 60s-70s, are just three examples arbitrarily extracted from the hour of music that forms a block of eleven tracks, uniform only in terms of quality level and originality of the proposed solutions, music capable of dilating time, that subliminally insinuates itself into the listener's mind to grow with each listen, even six years after its release.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
09 Voices of the Ether (04:55)
My soul so worn.
You miss the entity of all I perform.
My mind so torn.
You miss the entity of all I perform.
My skin so scorned.
You miss the entity of all I perform.
Soul worn.
You miss the entity of all I perform.
Mind torn.
You miss the entity of all I perform.
Skin scorned.
You miss the entity of all I perform, Fuck that norm, i spit on that behavior.
Savor you savior in suits made by tailors.
Folklore of unwound road
Where lies your rose?
Dead long side muse.
Face painted hues
Brushwork tickled my eyes...
I laugh as you lie as do I under sky.
Assume role of the unassuming
His walk so amusing
The stagger is looming.
My truth gets jangled in 'd' minor tuning.
Freestyle.
11 Classical Homicide (05:59)
Subterranean maintain own tongue mongst ruins
In subdued tones I speak of the flesh which entombs our inner core
Who the blessed? Invade airwaves type Moors (wars)
Sore from travels to unmarked thresholds, grapple truths untold lying in whispers it figures.
He who snickers doesn't see final melody
Shattered splinters, melodic in their own unrest
Remind me of Osiris, made liars of us all
For 364 days I learned to crawl
Appalled by sense of urgency to resurrect the dead
Shed my last skin searching for angel with broken wing
Will she sing that e minor hymn? For those of us who sin?
For those of us who sin?
Within dirty sanctum became brethren's anthem
Jesus Christ a Black man walks the earth still
Forgot to speak the real, Struggle's fate not sealed.
I appeal to nil, never one, not one, none.
Amplify brainwaves to condense my thought
Bends the dark
Why question my art?
Shunned by rays of Amon Ra,
Darkness exposes every soul's flaw
I forever remain raw, unpolished
Drunk off knowledge of knowing I'm dumb
Now remain none's sum, while inner eyes' stay numb
We all shall succumb to eternal sleep,
For now I'll just yawn and speak on ill gutter beats
Watch falling leaves, walk on knees,
Down graveled path vocalize own epitaph
Evoke on path towards inner, nonlinear
Lay head mongst sinners
Solitude falls winter
Appauled at visual surrounding
Kept my bearings non-grounded
Liquid language kept frozen 40 oz's
How many Mc's know who Faust is?
Pardon original, Manuscript fit text type tailored suit
Felt effects at root through vein type heron' you shoot
Euphoric, saw banks of Tigris and Euphrates
Fertile Crescent hold more lessons than taught by deities
Vonsciousness is leaving me
Seen that same sage turn page on habitual
Perform tectonic rituals,
Broke abacus to calculate coordanates
But can't afford rent.... It makes no sense.
Forgot our days in shackles? You concentrate on battles?
I lecture graduates discussing Kant till they leave baffled.
Amplify brainwaves to condense my thought
Bends the dark
Why question my art?
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