Between the rhyme schemes of Ishmael Butler, better known under as Palaceer Lazaro and the multi-instrumentalist Tendai “Baba” Maraire work together to form Shabazz Palaces. If Salvador Dali’s paintings could speak and play music, they would resemble something to what Shabazz Palaces represents. The first cut off the record is “free press and curl” which takes the warping synths and 808’s as the main waves that Shabazz Palaces will ride into the darkest corners of underground hip-hop. It is production heavy, relying almost entirely on the walls of noise to draw an audience in, then making them stay with the lyrical content that is more alive and conscious than dead.
The thick vernacular creates a showcase that is dedicated to the Golden Age of Hip-Hop, but the flow of New Aged production sculpts a dichotomy between the environments. At one point, the conflicting nature becomes evident as “I run on feelings, fuck your facts, deception is the truest act. With poise, I twirl the bluest lack, Dougie hold the ooh-est sacks. I danced a move to play the back, I dipped she asked him, ‘Who was that?’” Hooks and repetition are not some of the key components to Black Up, instead, a thought-provoking display of poetic athleticism creates the whirlwind of replayability.
With complementary cover art, a stand-up proactive practice of delivery, and an overly abstract base, Shabazz Palaces create a new world within their sound. Black Up travels through a varied range of power and a canvas that is not always perfectly clear, but is always appealing and rewarding.