Noire Notes XVI
Let God Sort Em Out (Liner Notes)
Author’s Note: This piece was inspired by Saul Williams’ liner notes for D’Angelo’s Voodoo. You can read it here.
“The Lord knows those who are His…let everyone who calls on the name of the Lord turn away from wickedness.” – 2 Timothy 2:19
This is culturally inappropriate. Culturally inconceivable. Culturally incredible. Hip-hop isn’t supposed to sound so good after so many years. So inventive. So intricate. So ingenious.
Rap is meant to be a young man’s sport, where those that practice it have a shelf life of a running back or a boxer. But the past few years have shown us different. A vanguard of veterans have risen from the shadows, refusing to part from their old ways as they go into old age. An inspirational invocation of the infinite, providing insight on how to be innovative with an indomitable spirit.
This is culturally inappropriate. Culturally inconsiderate. Culturally indignant.
This is Black Air Force Energy music. A cultural crusade from hip-hop fundamentalists, raised on the sonic scriptures of the infamous Mobb Deep.
This is a soundtrack from Saturn, saturated with sinister synths and sonnets of sibling synergy, an incendiary invective against those that are indiscreet and lack integrity.
This isn’t “N***** In Paris”. This is how it sounds to “act like you’ve been here before”. How it sounds to escape your surroundings but still be suffering from sin. How it sounds to be the brotherly keepers of all that is potent and pure. Bolstered by past betrayals and present blessings, the paradox of being alive. So be it. So it goes.
This is culturally inappropriate. Culturally incorruptible. The culture incarnate.
This is for the people who banged beats on the lunchroom table. The teenagers who bought XXL magazines to see which albums were the true classics. The students who slid rap lyrics in English class because they understood its true definition as rhythm and poetry.
Rhythm and poetry, the integral ingredients of the first hip-hop party. The history books said that it started in 1973 but the real date was sometime in 1932. Two brothers, briefly free from their life of crime, build a juke joint where music from descendants and ancestors stream seamlessly together. A cultural inheritance that started to take root, before it was swiftly incinerated by intruders and interlopers.
John 10:10 of the Bible warns that “the thief comes only to kill, steal and destroy”. They come posing as your friend, passing off your music as theirs, insistent on stealing your genius, softening it to make it more palatable for the masses. They tempt you with sweet words of unity, prosperity and camaraderie while holding the keys to your newfound captivity: chains and whips, sixty days of fame and contracts for newly-minted thousandaires.
The first party died the same day it began, initiating an endless cycle of death and rebirth with each iteration being leaner and meaner than the last: 1973. 1987. 1994. 1998. 2006. 2013. 2024.
Welcome to the new party, guarded by giants of the game. Heroes that have seen hell but lived to tell the tale. Furious firestarters carrying out the Lord’s will until the casket drops. Inseparable enforcers annihilating the competition with exclusive audio footage, leaving God to sort out the rest.
Further Reading
[1] Frazier Tharpe, Clipse Talk Love, Hate, And What Rap’s Been Missing, GQ
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Beating out the beat on Tiny Desk spoke volumes to me.
Deft writing, John 🙌🏾 You've got me thinking about this album in terms of history, morality, prosperity … all a that.
Love how you worked in Sinners for a new/old hip hop cosmology. This was lithe and coiled and great