GutterPutter

Conscious hip hop might have been a respectable genre for a long time for its emphasis on excavating Afrocentricity and the black community. However, very rarely do you find a perspective that doesn’t just want black Americans to be proud of their race, but also push for them to go beyond their history as the victims and be the frontline fighters against the hierarchy that cements it. Public Enemy is among the first groups to tackle racism with 1988’s It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back being acclaimed for its political stance. Amidst all the hype around rapping as a political tool, the genre seldom sees much attention beyond the early 1990s as many rappers decide to focus more on personal, communal relations in the African-American community rather than the macro factors.

This doesn’t mean to imply that the genre just dies off and revive itself back up, but there are gems that is bound to catch your attention. Ghais Guevara is one such name that I’ve been listening to for a good while now. Hailing from Philadelphia, he’s already making a name of himself through what is shaping up to be a prolific discography of five albums now—four of which under his previous alias of ‘Jaja00’. As both an MC and a producer, he mostly has a strong flexibility over his own works and with Islamic influence in his lyricism, he carries a certain fevour that is rarely felt in rappers sans those like Jay Electronica. There Will Be No Super-Slave, released on the 16th of July, is a record that could be best seen as his breakthrough and it’s one that he likes to wave around to prove that he’s got the talent to make it big in the hip hop industry. He’s not wrong on that.

However on the nose it can be with its messaging, There Will Be No Super-Slave proves itself to be ruthless and charming when it comes to dropping bars. Pop culture is implemented seamlessly from a collage of samples to illustrate oppression and racial tensions in ‘Intro’ to name-dropping Denzel Washington’s performance in race-themed American play Fences on ‘I Personally Wouldn’t Released John McCain’. Revolutionary imageries against the federal state is found in ‘#FREEMIR’ is flipped with small, yet mythic allusions to sport stars like Karl Malone. ‘Patrissee Cullors Stole My Lunch Money’ refers to the American activist and founder of the Black Lives Matter movement as Guevara raps about the commercialisation of academism and the ineffectiveness of non-violent activism. “Standin’ around on the block like a fuckin’ diversity hire/ Leader a liar, they griftin’ for dollars/ And doin’ Masterclass seminars” is among some of his bars which strike hard without a flinch in the first verse. Once the beat switches however, the la-la-la that pours in as Guevara raps about the dangers of being in a relationship with a gold digger is nothing but pure magic.

That’s when my favourite part of the album comes through. The chipmunk soul production that is indebted to the likes of Kanye West shines bright here as, through the gospel-like vocal harmonies, it adds an ecclesiastical touch to the songs. Take the pitched-up vocal sample from an R&B song in ‘Face/Off’, or the downtempo introspection in a relationship that is felt in ‘Rayman Legends’, or the choir-like vocals with a funky bassline in ‘C.R.B’, the production is next level to simply put it. Much like Guevara’s rapping, it’s filled to the brim with historic or cultural audio samples. However, it also contains a certain touch that is reminiscent of the 1990s’ hip hop tunes such as the twinkly synths in ‘Pulchritudinous’ with a dope guest verse from Zen Dash. Rarely would you hear a rap album where the production feels so familiar to the mainstream audience, yet just about alien enough for it to stand out on its own as a unique trait.

Above all else, the album is rife with a dislike towards white dominance as shots are often fired on the “crackers” in a bid to drive up black empowerment. ‘Mimicry of the Settlers’ is the most overt display of such as Ghais would equate himself to the “king of Opobo” while lamenting the division between his diaspora & the rest of the African-American community. “Trans-Atlantic typhus/ Identity crisis/ Diaspora warfare/ Kill without a license/ Kill without the effort” would stick out as being summative of the gap felt in the black American groups through differing dreams, milieus, and understanding. ‘Sir Douglas Mawson’ takes on a boom bap beat over conflicting thoughts between morality and vengeance alongside shots fired at the music industry for being too fixated on potential. ‘Luminescence Peers Thru Their Confinement’ examines black pride through the feeling of tribulation and understanding of one’s African heritage over a sample of a guitar solo near the end of the song. Finally, ‘Shirk’ criticises the white race for holding back spiritual redemption for others, citing the Nation of Islam. “I know what’s evil incarnate/ They got Yakubian layers” is such an overt attack on the notion of the white people existing that it could come off as being uncomfortable to listen to. There Will Be No Super-Slave is merciless in its discriminatory stance and it’s what makes it a compelling listen for better or for worse.

To put it simply, Ghais Guevara shows the attitude of a revolutionary. This album, shameless in its attitude towards white dominance, demonstrates a knack for chipmunk soul production to add an epic feeling to the rapper’s calling to rise up. Its provocations might not be suitable for everyone, but those who are itching for a different depth of political rap will find this to be a gem to behold. The ways that it show the potential of the black people is insurmountable, indestructible, and inspiring in its way as to surmise the end of ‘Intro’ – “Our deepest fear is not that we’re inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we’re powerful beyond measure.”