crushed up hydro carbons concentrated to pure black gold

BASIC DOESNT MEAN SIMPLE (THE LAST POETS)

it's all about leaving a little mark. like those 'inuksuk' that the inuit use, those rock statues to say "we were here". ill doesnt mean classic. the musicians and artist that stick around for me are the ones that hit you like a drug, it scares you at first, but soon enough you cant do nothin but crave it later in your life. youre hooked for ever.

ENTER ''THE LAST POETS''  SELF TITLED ALBUM

LISTEN HERE: http://grooveshark.com/#!/album/The+Last+Poets/490499

TRACK- "Run, Nigger"

skippa dee boo on the percussion

TICK TOCK TICK TOCK

time, time, melting clocks, dali being twisted into corkscrew positions

"time is running out of time" 

it isnt about rhymes here, it's raw. this guy has an unmatched conviction in his voice, because he wrote exactly what was going through his head. the form of his music never betrays the message he wants to get out of himself.

miles davis talked about louis armstorng once saying "we are different because he smiles at whitey when he plays, taking requests. when i play they arent getting song names and im playing whatever the hell i want"

this is "Run, Nigger"

it's hypnoses and bombardment. trapped in this song you have to listen.

intoxicating 

what intoxicates me about this bit is they dont blame their oppressors , they blame they empower the marginilized by condemming them for not fighting back

makes Nas look like kelly clarkson getting a back massage by a stick of butter

last poets 

************

TRACK- "On The Subway"

On the SUBBWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

killer. flow.

this is the raw, from the heart.

this group is so fucking in tune its a damn near synthisization of itself.

the poets are bravado and strong

the percussio fills up the cracks like a fake money shot in a budget porno flick

for aspiring musicians trying to find their own voice, its a great lesson, because their are no harmony, no melody, just voice/drum

:30 he talks about how he played some jazz tunes for this white guy on a subway (body and soul) and made him rich, yet the guy is just looking , ignoring the singer. on the subway chugs. on the brains of the brainless grind on ideas not worth hearing.

**********

TRACK- "Gashman"

mmmm

oh dang that doesnt feel good

 OOO

        AHH

OO                 AHH

black thighs

im in a trance here

the grooves the grooves 

that man has a gorgeous voice

:46 the percush backs it up with a little jitter

the notes you dont play man, groovy

these guys dont fill up every 16th note of the bar, they throw out the nugget and let it sit in your dome.

then the chants come in, and you are in that trance again. gash-man . gash-man

this is dark humor pardon the pun

***********

the last poets ended up making a shitload more albums, but this one for me is just juice in the morning. it is a pure golden diamond. crushed up hydro carbons concentrated to pure black gold.

~ Ugggy ALi the ugggly king will return next thursday. observe the piggga mans stylings this saturday he fails to disappoint.