Labtekwon - Song of the Sovereign
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Pitchfork Media Rating: 7.3
Song of the Sovereign is a retrospective covering the first fifteen years
of Labtekwon's career. "Lab-tek-what?" Yeah, he's definitely gone unnoticed in
all but indie hip-hop circles, and he lets you know it more than once on these
songs. But he's not just another MC whining about his holy struggle in the
underground. His delivery's plainclothes at first, a sort of brown paper bag for
all the identities kept inside-- amongst others, guru, prophet, griot, lover,
philosopher and educator if you believe his boasts. His diversity means you can't
pin him down too easily, though that may be one factor in his lack of fame.
Of course, you might count "the underground" as just another crutch for those who
lack skills, an excuse dressed up as treasure-filled crates. Search for a second
and you'll find those telltale glints of gold: you can always identify the
underground in its opposition to the mainstream. "Culture" weaves together
positive and negative images of African-Americana, from b-ball and the mothers of
mankind to prison and "fornication on the frequent, regardless of consequence."
It's a solid cut, with an upbeat bass groove and piano-roll plinks, and Labtek
flows playfully for the most part ("If you try to step you catch a Labteknical
foul"). But there's a hint of elder-statesmen-of-rap-style preaching, talking
about living like savages and asking "fifteen years from now, we still going to
be doing the same rhyme flows from '86?" I don't know, Lab, you wrote this in
'94-- when you gonna stop with the Native Tongues licks from the early 90s?
That's the main problem across this retrospective; Labtekwon's beats are too
simple. Most tracks are built from hip-hop's barest bones, just a looped beat
and a sample. "Speak on It" is from 1996's Da Helpless Won, but the
backing music sounds like a mixtape refugee from the early days of rap. There's
this canned horn vamp that seriously hits on every single beat. It's unlistenable,
too bad because lyrically Lab's on an African renaissance tip that would make
Marcus Garvey proud. "I almost cried when I realized black tribes sold out to
the merchant ships/ Black girls becomes guinea pigs for Norplant/ I'm tired of
all of this, I begin the war chant." He spits, "Ya god damn right I got a chip
on my shoulder," but all I can think about is those horn bleats beating down on
mine. Then there's seven uninspired minutes of "Perversion," which drips
syrupy-smooth inflections over a funk-a-delic bassline. No, baby, you ain't Dr.
Funkenstein. Take off those star-shaped shades and come on down from the
Mothership.
So it comes down to the lyrics, and most of the time that's enough. The man is
intelligent and articulate, and though he rarely raises above spoken-word volume,
he cuts off on the rhythm, then fires back, bobs and weaves whenever necessary
and doesn't shy from twisted perspectives. "The Last Emcee," from the 2000 album
of the same name, sketches out a picture in the third person, but you know who it
refers to. The stage is set in Baltimore, Labtekwon's hometown. The plot: an
MC's rise to fame. Despite its lyrical conceits the song succeeds, pivoting on
spacy synthwork and the discovery that the underground's just as filled with
snakes as the mainstream. 1997's Balti-Moorish Science offers up
"Perspective," whose turntablist scratches don't distract from the cutting quality
of the imagery: "Embryo grows, rise out of the water/ Fluid pours from the comatose
form between the thighs of a daughter/ Birth canal hurts now/ No money for Lamaze
classes."
There's a nice minimalism at work in the tracks at the middle of Song of the
Sovereign. Most date to the last few years, and share a jazzy Native Tongues
flavor even if the mood isn't always light. In an interview Labtekwon said that
first and foremost he's always been a battle MC. I don't hear that, and not just
because there's too few guests on this sampler. Labtek sounds most at home when
he's on a mission, as on "Darkside of the Sun" from 1998's Nile Child. On
top of crackling vinyl and Midnight Marauder keyboards he narrates about
sun tribes and pharaoh phonetics: "Proverbial Frankenstein's monster/ From ancient
times comes the conqueror/ Odyssey'in to my epic." On "King of Kings," also from
Nile Child, Labtek assumes an aggressive,...
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