The first time I listened to Killer Mike’s latest album, MICHAEL, I was out on a run. It was a cold morning with a drizzle. The ground was wet and slippery. As a result, my pace was measured and attentive, and so was my listening. The moment the first track, DOWN BY LAW, opened up, my ears were seized by a spasm of polyrhythmic waves. “I owe it to myself to stay inspired”, “it ain’t easy”. These were some of the first words from the rapper. And it hit home really hard. My first thoughts were already underway, even as I listened to the early stages of what would be an ingenious weaving of voice with artful sonic manoeuvrings that characterise the rest of the album.
Killer Mike’s disposition was already clear. This is a man speaking from years of unvoiced experiences. Someone that life has dealt, not one, but many bad hands. Yet, there is something about his voice that invokes a feeling of gratitude, of a recognition of grace. This album is soul, it is gospel, it is a celebration, not a lamentation. I was immediately hooked.
The third track, RUN, starts with the voice of the ace comedian, Dave Chapelle. “One thing about being a Nigga in America is it’s like storming the beach of Normandy. You gotta keep moving, no time to be scared. Ain’t no rhyme or reason why is not you on the ground, but as long as it’s not you, keep moving”. That was timely. My running pace quickened. “So what’s your excuse? I did something wrong, I am not perfect. Nobody asked anyone to be perfect, we are just asking people to be honest. You are a leader, so lead”.
Well, while he is necessarily not speaking to every one of us when he says “you are a leader” — for there are those of us who are followers, and we need followers to hold leaders accountable — he certainly has a point about being honest. Self-honesty has a way of shedding light (of clarity) on our intentions. Your road to perfection, whatever that may be, cannot be obscured by self-induced dishonesty. The pitfalls are a revolving door of interminable inertia. This track speaks specifically to the predicament of the Black person. Keep running, keep moving. But keep in mind that the compass is your intention, not the map or the destination.
At this point, the album has an air of an awakening. How does one rise from the ashes? How does a dying man, Fanon, on his death bed speak to, about, for the Wretched of the Earth, with his last breath? What is this impulse that says “all hope is far from lost”? These were not questions as much as sensations that coursed through my veins as I listened to MICHAEL.
I must have come a long way. I had intended a ten-kilometre run, but now, with this album keeping me company, I was confident I could take it to twelve kilometres. The track, MOTHERLESS, is a naked ode to the women in Killer Mike’s life, specifically his mother and grandmother. He remembers them, mourns them, celebrates them and eulogises them all in one song. Yet, what we hear is the vulnerability of a 48-year-old who isn’t shy or afraid of the nakedness of his toddler-self, or to be that self again. His sincerity isn’t coercive, nor does it seek validation. This is not a song for which one’s first thought is to give accolades to the artiste. If anything, there is a sacredness to the crafting of this track. In the video of the song, he first extends his palms out, as if to say a short prayer before he voice bellows the words.
This album may have been brought into the limelight by its Grammy wins (one hilarious comment under the video on YouTube reads “Who else came here after the Grammys”?), yet it did a disservice to reduce its intentions to the superficial squabbles that Grammy nominations have come to represent for the most part.
In, HIGH & HOLY, Killer Mike turns fully to worship and praise. This track starts with an incantation in the Yoruba language, invoking prayers to God, or the ancestors. It then turns inward, opening spaces for remorse, reconciliation, and forgiveness. But it also makes a snapshot of an entire life with the refrain, “My life is a testimony, that’s why I stay high and holy”. It’s an unequivocal affirmation that when one’s life is considered a blessing, that life too is a reward and a thanksgiving. As the fourteenth of an eighteen-track album, it serves as one of the consolidating hinges of this masterpiece.
And as with any masterpiece, there are still treasures to be unearthed and unravelled. I am now listening to the song in high resolution via the streaming service Qobuz, with my Bowers & Wilkins PX8. Perhaps a sequel of these ponderings will follow. Or perhaps not.
