“If you’re going to copy me, then do it right.”
Michael LaCour—also known as noise rap pioneer B L A C K I E—could be spitting some of the most controversial lyrics possible, but this line from “All Power is Already Ours” will likely stay with you long after their latest album is done.
Why? Because B L A C K I E, Houston, TX’s underground cult legend, has been doing it all without a label for twenty years. Be it in their noise rap, art punk, American grime, avant-metal, or whatever you will fail to box them in next, B L A C K I E maintains a signature rawness and confrontational approach.
Yet, they’ve been considered a footnote compared to those who have eclipsed them in fame and fortune. For example, experimental rap trio Death Grips—noted rivals and targets of their ire—became Sacramento, CA heroes for briefly signing to Epic and gaining a cult fan base through their brand of madman rap. Chronically online rapper and former major label occupant JPEGMAFIA entered the fray with pro-Black, internet-informed hip hop constantly pushing the envelope of what experimental rap can sound like. clipping., a band using noise, musique concrete, and even nods to classic avant-garde artists as the foundation for their experimental rap is one of Sub Pop’s hip-hop releases crown jewels. Many other avant-garde indie rappers—such as By Storm (formally known as Injury Reserve), Moodie Black, and Manikineter—popped up right after or at the same time. It’s safe to say B L A C K I E’s brand of punk rap, where they proudly defy the powers that be without a censor or a focus group in sight, is least likely to earn them a spot in the majors. Thankfully, this means they will perform where they wants to, the music will likely be free, and they will push boundaries album after album. Their twelfth project, Noise God, which visits the murkier end of hip-hop, is no exception.
Before going forward, you’d be remiss not to understand that LaCour did more than hip-hop under the moniker. They have tackled punk, jazz, and prog-industrial, while some releases—like the epic three-track opus IMAGINE YOURSELF IN A FREE AND NATURAL WORLD—successfully defy easy categorization. They are all delivered with a powerfully defiant message: fuck the world that seeks to destroy and/or erase those like and around them. So, to go into Noise God you must abandon all expectations that aren’t of sheer musical intensity and lyrical directness.
Rumbling like a sonic bomb buried beneath the garden from the horror synths to the blown-out drums, “Fuck My Name/Whole Esophagus (intro)” begins with B L A C K I E confessing their feelings on “blowing up”: “Underground is all I ever claimed.” That’s a barb for those compromising their creativity and politics for success, but it is the lightest of them. However, “I Can’t Tell” finds them donning a slightly sarcastic voice over rumbling drums barricading out-of-tune piano plinks. Though, they tossed occasional wisecracks with their personal truths—a verse set up states “I don’t hate women” before landing the stinging punchline: “Imma leave that to politicians”—they approach the world around them with a sense of nihilism, if not total disillusion.
The following track, “All Power is Already Ours,” suggests something more uplifting through its title. Still, the nihilism continues through lines like “All my favorite rappers are implanted by the government” and “You vote for them, even when you don’t vote / You work for them even if you’re unemployed.” A common theme in their work is control, the abuse of it, and the need to reclaim personal freedom, but in this very song, B L A C K I E is comfortable facing the fact that control over the people is sometimes inevitable.
Sometimes that disillusion travels within. The sludgy and tense “Lil Mike” explores B L A C K I E’s own battle with self-love and the violent tensions occupying them, which spells it out with one line: “I scream ‘spread love’/ All I really feel is hate.” Hate for the self? Hate for the world around? Hate for those they shared love with? What makes that line more poignant is B L A C K I E digging deeper by admitting “I want to be a good person” before sadly adding “I don’t want to hurt anybody, but I don’t think that it’s working.” Don’t let the lack of blasting noises fool you—such admissions keep the whole thing heavy.
The B L A C K I E project remains a cathartic outlet for all of LaCour’s stone-fisted energy, and in turn, becomes a cathartic listen for those who share their hunger for a primal scream towards the establishment—especially in recent times. In a world where raising their voice and fist could put them in a crossfire, Noise God proves why such an album name is nothing to scoff at.
