by Jeff Milo
Like the dude's voice. Low, resonant, a melodic, growling hum to it -
Deeply sonorous rumble...like the steadfast fierce fizzling of an idling car engine ready to rev the fuck up outta here if things get heavy but not quite yet - steady...the driver waits - and this EP's the reflective, earnest elucidation upon a heavy-hearted but steely-skinned rapper rhyming his resolve and laying out his principals from behind the wheel, withthis bleak beat-shunted poetry, sporadically spiked with jagged catharsis and always refraining with that deep echo: Boom.
"I'm not a killer but I''ll fight with my hands / hand it to me for killing everybody with this mic in my hand..."
Halfway through this shadowy, dark-soul, heavy-hittin hip-hop EP, there's this track that strikes genuine cinematic suspense, eerie chase-scene-esque paranoia patched across dark-alley aesthetics and shady-trade-off-facilitating emptied urban blight buildings over ominous spacey-synth flares and sparse beat trundles...while our emcee, MOLA1 (a.k.a. Martin Malota) waves his thick, cool baritone in a cruising cadence that feels ever-ready to stomp the accelerator into a rail-riding aggression that could run you off the road.
But the beats keep it steady and we stay relatively meditative with those soulful samples and lulling loops, steady...steadily revving, the car's engine primed and percolating, just an instant away from some ominous off-set...