Saul Williams is the latest in a long line of black musical social commentators that starts with the Last Poets and Gil-Scott Heron, moves through Chuck D and into the current trio of Saul, Ursula Rucker and Sarah Jones.
The latter all combine poetry with mic skills, but none with a ferocity like Saul's. The New Yorker is an equally talented MC, poet and actor, most famously starring in 'Slam', winner of the Camera d'Or at Cannes. Pour so many influences into one pot and it's clear why the rap-rock here is largely secondary to Saul's rhymes.
He shouts, screams, tearing at the fabric of inequality that surrounds him. Saul is exorcising demons with vibrant narratives, 'Robeson' - named after the black actor, singer and anti-racism activist - being a prime example. If only the average MC had half as many things to say. If only the average rock band had half the sonic balls.
'Our Father' is a heart wrenching meditation on absent parents. "Our father/which art in/St Francis hospital/for hypertension... " it begins, ending with "would you rather hear/ about guns and fear/ or broken glass in the tenement?" Needless to say, Saul sticks with the truth, cussing black male hip hop culture as eloquently as Ursula Rucker.
'Coded Language' was the highlight of DJ Krust's debut album, a hint of avenues that drum 'n' bass has merely glanced down. Saul bellows over the Reprazent-member's breaks "Whereas/breakbeats have been the missing link connecting the Diaspora community to its drum woven path... ." Do you think Metalheadz ravers realise that when the bass drops?
Saul is endlessly questioning. He asks "what is the density of an ego-less planet?" on 'Tao of Now' and "how much will it cost you to buy you out of the reality you've bought into?" on 'Penny For A Thought'. The album's best line remains: "why do you rhyme about being hardcore?/be heartcore/what is it we do art for?" on 'LaLaLa'.
There are few artists that make you stop and think like Saul. That's why 'Amethyst Rockstar' is one of the most vital albums this year. Sure, it's shambolic, flawed and indulgent, but only because it reaches further than most artists dream of. And when Saul screams "seven mountains higher than the valley of death" it becomes obvious, like in a drunken moment of clarity, just how strongly life's adrenalin courses through his veins.
This isn't anaesthetic indie or the false prophet of jiggy rap. "Reject mediocrity" shouts Saul. This is the real deal: messy, intense, thoughtful, painful and vivid. Give prose a chance.
