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Rating: If Saul Williams were to gain evident media exposure and a substantial listener base - as he actually would have already deserved in the past (considering he has two excellent albums behind him) - thanks to the genesis that led to the birth and creation of "The Inevitable Rise And Liberation Of NiggyTardust!", as well as how it will be distributed, it would be symptomatic of the functioning modes of the mechanisms that govern the current sound world, but still welcome... (although a bit of resignation clearly emerges from my words).
The fact is that, besides myself, even Mr. Trent Reznor is a declared admirer of the poet, writer, actor (leading, among others, in 'Slam', a film awarded at the Sundance Film Festival and Cannes), philosopher and musician from Newburgh (New York) and has therefore actively collaborated in the realization and production of the fifteen tracks and then supported the cause (besides promoting it directly on his website) so that the record would see the light exclusively via the web, with the same option exercised by Radiohead, namely a choice between a $5 payment or completely free. All this is important, but for reasons and logic that go beyond the sound strictly intended and concerns us to a certain extent because what should lead you to obtain the work is the fact that it is an extremely interesting piece (mixed by Alan Moulder, whose resume includes Jesus And Mary Chain, My Bloody Valentine, Smashing Pumpkins, Prick, Cure, etc.).
Defined by Williams himself as "ghetto gothic... hard-core dance", it offers us a snapshot of crossover classification updated to the new millennium, where hip hop and electronics (already contaminated by Nine Inch Nails) unite, separate, travel following different paths, meet digital soul, rock, dubstep, spoken word and metropolitan settings, through compositions developed, developed with intelligence and creativity, rich in details, sounds, and samples ("Tr(n)igger" is almost entirely built on samples of "Welcome To The Terrordome" from "Fear Of A Black Planet" by Public Enemy).
Kudos to Saul Williams (and Trent Reznor).
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
02 Convict Colony (03:24)
I was born
In a Convict Colony
And I was torn
From the land
That mothered me
Mother may I?
She says 'yes you may'
Well, today I
I say right here today
You're a Convict Colony!
If you're running
From the Sun
Your a Convict Colony
A Convict Colony
And you don't really want it
I was birthed
From the earth
Fought my way
To this day
Now I'm gone
Truth be told
I'll be here
'til your gone
You're a Convict Colony!
You're running from the Sun
You're a Convict Colony!
Your reaching for your gun
You're a Convict Colony!
You're running from the Sun
You're a Convict Colony!
A Convict Colony
And you don't really want it
You don't really want it
You don't really want it
You don't really want it
You don't really want it
You don't really want it
You don't really want it
You don't really want it
You don't really want it
You don't really want it
You don't really want it
You don't really want it
You don't really want it
You don't really want...
07 DNA (04:03)
NGH WHT: chaps. 9-12)
Feel the music. Son, we got you programmed like a beat. When I press snare, Yo, guard your grill. ‘Press kick, you move your feet. You can’t compete. I got my hydrants parked on every street. I’m federal NGH. Son of Sun. Come close and feel the heat. I am the streets. The white lines only separate me from me. You hydroplane in false gods name and still crash into me: Sign and Tree; Mountainside; Guard Rail; The Sea. They thought they stole you from my arms then carried you to me. Here’s the key: DNA encoded in a beat. White rocks in a vial, NGH, ain’t got nuthin’ on me. BCH I’m free. Ask these editors at MTV. Far as they, know they’re publishing some new school poetry. Let it be. ‘Cause even that will serve to turn the key. Doorways into other worlds. The Truth shall set you free. YOU are me, I am you, but also I’m (s)he. She-pherd of a bastard flock that grazes in the streets. Feel the beat. Nod your head. Lean back, yo. Touch your feet. Let me see you pop that thang right there girl in your seat. Feel the heat. Count this page amongst your whitest sheets. Comfort in my every word. Slide under. Countless sheep.
Hail Mary, Mother of God. Got the whole host of angels shuffling in my ipod. NGHs learned to raise their voices when I lowered my rod. Staff of Moses. Pharaoh knows it. Son, my word is my bond. Tune my heart with mind. Speak my nature: Divine. With the future in my pocket tightly gripped like a 9. Keep my finger on the trigger waiting for the right time. Ancient NGHs align! Path of Cosmic Design. Blood of kings ‘cause Saturn’s rings don’t need no diamonds to shine. Yes, the reason for the season, ornamented divine. Coded Language of the mystics with my fist in the sky.
Keep your head up. We represent The Real, my NGH. Dead up. Book of the Dead. History bled. This NGH fed up. Led us to despair, some into prayer, and they won’t let up until they got us worshipping them false gods instead of The Realness. God of the streets. My NGHs feel this. We nod our heads and worship through beats. Go ahead and kneel. It’s the LOVE that makes the cipher complete. And it’d displayed through the way the bass line marries the beat.
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