RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Monday, July 15

SONG OF THE DAY: Run Through It

Random ass bandcamp label called Placenta Recordings released a compilation of a bunch of random ass hip hop acts they’d released over a period of time from Detroit called Up North Trips Volume 1. But there’s like nine asterisks from that statement I just wrote, because first off I love any compilation ambitiously titled “volume one”. But also none of this is random. Hip hop, and music itself in all genres and genre hybrids, exists every fucking where. Hip hop scenes have existed in so many places for decades, and Detroit has a deep history, which we know the popular portions of this – the Eminem/Royce music industry Illuminati piece, as well as some of the horrorcore pioneers like Esham. But every scene is just chock full of dreaming ass local rappers and producers, who make piles of music that remains obscure but wonderful. Shit man, I was involved in helping organize a local hip hop festival in Charlottesville this past year, and just that has introduced me to so many amazing fucking jams and people who live and breathe this shit, even if the larger world has no idea. The track on this comp right before this 7 Mile Clee jam has a pair of lines right at the beginning that goes, “Had a dream I got signed to go rap out of state, but then I woke up and scraped crack off the plate.” The international struggling ass hustler’s dream – which I literally just saw a local rapper post yesterday on his Instagram as “I just want to change the world and live comfortably.” I’d love to dig through the shit more and post it up in an organized faux-scientific fashion, but to be honest, you can’t keep up. That’s the shortcomings of science – real life moves too fast for our human sciences to dissect it all. You just gotta focus out to the big picture view, accept the fact I was blessed for somebody to tweet the Up North Trips onto my timeline, which I happened to click, and 7 Mile Clee’s northern no fucks given drawl got stuck in my brain, unlocking brief blasts of dopamine which allowed me to enjoy the mundane life of struggle that human existence remains, even in this allegedly more free than ever society.

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