Grey Area

Sometimes times seems to fade away without any contents such as winter vacations in a provincial town, when the grey of the sky echoes the nudity of the trees. And you’re wondering about shit going on, about that girl you’re obsessed about, the fact that she’s far away, that you’re here and now whereas you’ll rather be somewhere else, some times before, eating french fries while facing the city hall of Brussels for instance, or on a Basque Country’s beach making sandcastles.

When you’re in that kind of mood, playing with words could be cathartic, fill in the emptiness of your mind with jokes, nice descriptions, portraits and shit, or even change this state of mind into a piece of art. Well i’m not a fucking poet, i’m clumsy with words and i have nothing to say about the world that surrounds me or even about my psyche. Nevertheless, hopefully, i know music, and listening to some guys spitting their mind on high level beats could be the escape ; yes listening to hip hop could indeed be salutary.

Posterity is sometimes weird as shit and unfair. Why did some guys make it through history whereas others did not ? It seems that fame is as simple as a well-built business or communication plan. Fuck that. Omaz and Lartizan have been producing EPs, songs, for years. They have mastered undercover musical activism such as in this song from 2003, a song that definitely deserves being part of Hip Hop « Hall of Fame ».

French band La Cinquième Kolonne was part of this Hall of Fame back in the days, although not for long. Those guys were under the spots after one song, broadcast over and over by a famous french radio which name is now a blaspheme for any hip hop lovers.

Nice story, hum ? No. The essential was forgotten. La Cinquième Kolonne’s music is much more interesting and complicated than this « LOL-song » that prefigures artist such as Orelsan. Theirs rhymes are sharp, their beats powerful, strong as in this song from their album « Derrière nos feuilles blanches ».

As in a provincial town during winter vacations, light goes down, streets smell boredom, like an empty bed or a night without alcohol.

Hip Hop will never stop, Long live Dinosaur Dog

Hurray.