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During the making of this album, we bought a house and moved. It resulted in a lot of stress and free time vanishing. As such, this album did not come out anywhere near on time. It makes mention of that right at the start, with Hannah sitting in my car waiting for me to come back from the grocery store. She remarks that she feels like she’s been waiting for me for months.
On the album Deconstruction, I mentioned my marriage and wife many times, always in a positive light. But while I spoke that way on tracks, what was happening behind the scenes was less than ideal.
I don’t go into specifics but refer to the struggles via abstraction.
If these walls could talk
They’d scream and beg for someone just to teach them how to walk
So they could get away, and expose what they contain
But I would pull them back on me and hold inside all of the pain
Our marriage was almost doomed from the start, and in fact, it almost didn’t happen. Had it not, my kids wouldn’t exist. For them, I’m glad it happened.
Flamethrower was a contest entry for an Anno Domination rap contest. I don’t remember which one anymore, as there have been many and I don’t usually enter things like that.
The track is a usual outing for me, in that it’s another “bulldozer” track. By that, I mean there’s a lot of shit talking, mic destruction, and unexpected references, including:
I devour all I encounter
my power is massive reactive like fire fighting with gun powder
…getting louder like Steven Crowder
my vocal wave chases you for 24 hours like Jack Bower
Thank them (who) Verbal 2Deep and AD
They gave me, enough sick beats to make these
Records I’m ripping and flipping kicking out lyrical missiles
stopping Bravehearts while I play Gift of a Thistle
These kids tell me that I’m too old and odd
I’ve been told to stop, but hold, I’m not
about to listen to this diss, from pricks who can’t spit
a single verse, even worth a Taco Bell shit
I will not fall, I will remain
my brain’s inflamed and my breath is propane
It’s futile to fight I can die and come back again
and again and again like Angus Scrimm
I’m a Klingon Warbird, you never knew I was there
until you heard the growl of this bear, the hour is near
We’re headed for trouble like riding with Large Marge
headed at two cars moving faster than Jaguars
And of course
So all these mumbling kids fumbling with bumbling quips
crumbling hits stumble and miss showing they are nothing in this
That last one resulted in a slowed down explanation at the end. The track was fun to make, and while several people seemed to dig it, it did not win. Sadness. 🙁
During the A Year of Music project, a series of songs emerged called Malevolent Flow. These were essentially bulldozer tracks that can of course stand on their own, but ended up as a series.
The second verse of this track starts out with a set of verses that to this day I still love:
I’m here to kick a lyrical rocket
with such a powerful lift off that nobody can stop it
they unlocked Mic like a lockpick and shot me with a work in progress
mutant genome strain a crazed William Striker concocted
The second verse in its entirety is among my favorites in the whole series of albums, not just the Malevolent Flow tracks.
And the Thomas Dekker/Thomas Dekker lines still catch me off guard.
The world has become an amazingly stupid place, with all of that stupidity becoming evident on social media.
Mind of Mine discusses my annoyance with people who expect me to have a specific opinion based on my skin tone. There are those who believe that because I have a built-in tan, I must think a certain way and if I don’t something is wrong with me. Yeah, that makes you a racist.
And ironically, those are the people who insist that they aren’t the racist ones.
I have my own mind, my own life, and my own experiences. People who want to lump me into some “community” because of my skin tone, a label and community they determined because of skin tone, are disgusting bigoted racist pieces of shit. I’m not part of the “black community,” which you’ve assigned me to based on what I look like. Why? Because you think we all know each other and think alike, which again, makes you a racist twat.
This track became a sign of the defiance that was soon to come.
When I listen to Weird One, I can’t help but think of The People’s Court. If you don’t understand why, it’s because of the beat. I really dig it, but that sound in the background that makes up the hits in the melody is very much like the gavel sound.
Anyway…
I shit on a few rappers in this track and said some interesting things, but honestly, I don’t care about that at this moment. What I care about is how much Australia fucked us. In fact, I consider this an act of war. When you have so many dope rappers, and you give us Iggy Azaelea, you are in essence, declaring an attack on us.
For a while, I was exclusively listening to Manta, Bias B, Thundamentals, and Horrorshow. Those guys are great at what they do.
But they give us Iggy. IGGY!
Fuck you Australia. Fuck you upside down. Expect the missiles soon.
I can’t end this without bringing up my favorite track on the album. I frequently return to this song and blast it loudly out of my car as I drive around town, annoying everyone around.
Rabid begins as a slow boil but quickly ramps up. It’s basically me throwing hammers through the mic and smacking people in the face with them. It also includes a callback to Gangsta NIP, a horrorcore rapper from Texas who became a heavy influence on me to write a certain way.
There is a verse that annoys me though. The line is “I’m unstable AND able to flip the room around the table.” However, because I can’t speak and never noticed, it sounds like I said “unable,” not “and able.” It’s annoying and stuck that way. However, it did force me to listen to what I record more closely and enunciate better.
The song was originally meant to be single verse, but I couldn’t stop. I dug the beat too much.
And there are a couple of verses I need to discuss.
Mic is here to press the gas…
I don’t impress you much, I’m growing fast like the mass of Shania’s ass
I’m here to smash it hard repeatedly, for this I have a habit
pack it deep until it’s stretched beyond it’s limits like elastic
First of all, yes I’m obviously referencing Shania Twain. She’s an excellent singer and has been for decades. She’s also stupid hot and does have a big ass. That’s not a knock, mind you. I remember the days when having a big ass was frowned on. This isn’t then.
What follows that mention of Shania is talking about smashing “it hard repeatedly” and “packing it deep.”
Now, question for the class: What was I referring to? Was I referring to Shania Twain’s ass? Or I was I talking about…the track.
I don’t bow, bend, or even tilt a bit
I’ve come to kill this shit with illness that’s instilled within this gift of mine
to drive it hard into the mic a bust a rhyme that cooks the woofer
while your writtens fail like presidential runs by Corey Booker
I wrote all that so there’s a back reference, but really all I wanted to point out was the part about Corey Booker. Fuck that douche bag clown show asshole. That line always makes me laugh when I hear it.