Big Ghost LTD - Carpe Noctem [2020]

Welcome to one of my many Write-Ups, where I dive into a contextual history of a project from an artist, while also breaking down the different parts worth mentioning. Come over to my Write-Ups page for a list of all of the work I’ve done so far.

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“…ahky, it ain’t no secret no more. See from now on this ain’t the underground. From now on when you talk about this genre of music, it’s called The Abyss. The bottomless underground. Cause we don’t know how far down this shit can go.”   

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There’s a certain magnetism that some individuals have in drawing people around them that are best in class. They have this openness, a confidence to do what needs to be done to make something magnificent, and a determination to ensure the product will be nothing short of the vision. I’ma just do what I always do and relate this shit back to the Wu-Tang (I’m sure y’all are getting tired of that at this point but bear with me); the Clan is 9 men (10 of you count Cap) brought together in the pursuit of musical legacy where, in the moment, most of the members were out to get mad riches. I’m not out here saying that Ghostface, Meth, Rae, the GZA, or any of those supremely talented men weren’t capable of getting that shit off the ground individually… or maybe I am I don’t know. What I DO know is that there was no individual musician out there like the RZA in 1993, who’s goal in this game was the create the brand, to establish the MUSICAL vision and merit of the Clan, and to maintain the legacy of the Wu into infinity. This man drew these emcees together into his basement because he had that magnetism, because the best rappers and producers couldn’t help but build with enlightened men. We’ll never see anyone like the RZA again, but we can get pretty fucking close. People like Juicy J and Kanye West can have some characteristics, but the whole package hasn’t appeared again in the RZA-form yet. There wasn’t going to be one in the late-90’s/early 2000’s; the sound was too far from where it needed to be to cultivate the genius. The late-2000’s/early 2010’s saw classic hip-hop sounds coming back into the culture, but it wasn’t until that real underground shit started making a huge comeback that the conditions were right for another RZA, and it came from the strangest place…

Big Ghost was really put on the musical map with this project right here, Griselda Ghost. An origin story for two of rap’s grimiest emcees, and it’s current production visionary

The game changed seismically five years ago, whenever the boys from Buffalo, Griselda Records, came onto the scene and brought with them a BOOM in vinyl sales, a refocusing on the drug-slinging and fashion talk from some of the industry’s oldest influences (Raekwon & Ghostface Killah), and, most importantly, under Daringer’s ear for production we found stock placed in the concept of drumless or minimal beats, where a tight loop of pretty much anything could be gold for a talented rapper. But we have now entered a new decade, and we’ve been living under the Griselda umbrella for so long we’re beginning to see the wide-ranging effects their success. We are entering a generation of underground rappers that came up to Griselda popping off, who are inspired by their give-no-fucks fashion talk and production techniques. In a way, history is repeating itself: Griselda broke the mold by going off and realigning the culture to their vision a lot like late-80’s acts did, but it wasn’t until the mid-90’s before we were able to see where the sound was going to go. Without Griselda, we wouldn’t be here talking about this new shift today.

No one knows where Big Ghost is from (or where he’s currently working out of), but the New York genes are there somewhere. He was there for the Illmatics and Reasonable Doubts and Ready To Dies, and his persona whenever he first popped on the scene was distinctly New York. When I found out, recently I might add, he had a blog back in 2011, I was intrigued: I assumed it would be informational, maybe even a little like what I provide here on Tha Soup Dude’s Kitchen. Boy was I surprised when I found out that not only was it highly stylized parody, but it was lowkey kind of genius in the way he used the guise of an “old-head” to lambast the artists that ruled the waves in those days. He was a man of ideas, a person who knew where he wanted the culture to be that just had a hilarious way of laying it out for you. As time goes on, and he starts his musical endeavors (and where I start picking up his frequencies here in my music space), the writings grow fewer and the music greater. His first LP, a group project with none other than (you guessed it) Buffalo’s Westside Gunn and Conway the Machine, established that his vision for the future of underground hip-hop was remembrance of it’s past, with the loops and samples he used falling in line with the minds of people like The Alchemist and Daringer. But while the Alchemist seemed to be reveling in creating dope shit, and Daringer focused on building the Griselda brand of underground hip-hop, Big Ghost was looking farther. As of 2020, the beginning of this new decade, I think we’ve found what he’s been building up to, or rather it may be appropriate to say, digging down to. The Abyss. The space below the underground. The bottomless underground. It has existed in disparate forms and groups these past five or six years, but it hasn’t been so focused, so collective, and so expertly executed until now. Carpe Noctem, the first album released by Big Ghost that isn’t with a specific artist, is a showcase of a vision for the future of the genre, where the simplicity of a good beat loop just isn’t good enough anymore, and that expertly arranged music from the mind of a production genius is setting that quality level higher than it has been in a long minute.

But we’re going to have to spend some time breaking down who is involved in this massive endeavor, because the group that assembles here on Carpe Noctem is a regionally diverse and stylistically varied group. Although they all fall under the broad umbrella of “underground rappers”, some approach the craft with more of a focus on flows, some lyrics, some presence on the microphone, and some through their bonds with those on the mic with them. There are 8 consistent emcees that are considered the core of this record, whom Big Ghost has labeled “The Big East” in this context. Those emcees are: New York City’s Rome Streetz, Rochester’s Rigz and Mooch, Toronto’s Asun Eastwood, Hackensack, NJ’s CRIMEAPPLE, Lynn, MA’s Estee Nack, D.C.’s Rahiem Supreme, and, finally, Ghana’s Recognize Ali. While Ty Farris, Daniel Son, and al.divino appear once across the album, they serve as the albums features so to speak; while it’s probably just that these men were close collaborators that didn’t quite want the weight of a group, they still fit right in with the styles presented by the main emcees. But the skills that all 8 of the mainline rappers bring to the table are, incredibly, not derivative or redundant in any way. Every single emcee comes to Carpe Noctem with their own toolbelts, and, if you would allow me to indulge myself in extended Wu-Tang comparison (while also getting into these emcees individually), their own species of influences that inform their sounds.

Rome Streetz (who has been having a killer time of it lately with Noise Kandy 3 and Joyeria with The Artivist) is a New York native through and through, with a dense forest of rhymes and his unmistakably rustic accent most closely aligned with the Rebel himself Inspectah Deck. Rome’s pen game is the most straightforwardly solid out of this ensemble of emcees, with more focus placed in the way the lyrics roll off the tongue rather than any storytelling or even punchlines elements. All of his verses across Carpe Noctem are works of art, admirable for the clear effort that was put into penning every bar to his utmost ability. His verse on Fake My Death contains this gem: “These n****s all my sons I’m on some Marvin Gaye father shit / fars as bars I’m far from an artist more like an arsonist / started in the kitchen mixing blow with bicarbonate / the pieces that I carved is what they buy; it’s target marketing”. I mean just look at this rhyme scheme on this shit; no one on this record can rhyme like this, which isn’t a dig at any of the other artists but rather a testament to the unbridled skill Rome Streetz shows on every verse.

Estee Nack (left) and CRIMEAPPLE (right) have the most magnificent dreads and the most magnificent beard respectively

Two rappers, CRIMEAPPLE and Estee Nack, are clearly different from Rome Streetz in the way they construct their bars and disregard the traditional “pocket”. Both are also the most abstract out of the group, with CRIMEAPPLE’s flamboyantly wordy delivery and Nack’s dizzying word association going hand-in-hand to make the two some of the most difficult to follow rhymers on the LP. CRIMEAPPLE shines on the opening track here, Murder at the Opera, where he dances with the beat in his opening lines “I’m rocking Penny’s made pretty penny while you penny pinchin’ / caught my bitch in some Steve Madden’s and had an intervention”, showcasing insane alliterative skills and one of a kind dry-delivered humor. On the other hand, you really have to be paying attention to Estee Nack to be able to pick up on what he’s trying to get across to you, because if you aren’t on top if his wandering verses you’ll end up lost in his wisdom. The man can also adapt to any beat thrown his way on Carpe Noctem, with the transition between Fake My Death and Paper Plane Lords being a seamless one, and Nack doesn’t miss a single beat ending off the former and quickly transitioning to the latter; it’s probably my favorite point on the record, and if Fake My Death starts then I *must* hear it out to Paper Plane Lords just to hear that transition.  But there are a few key things to note here. One is that CRIMEAPPLE only has two appearances on this record; while it doesn’t affect the quality of the two verses given, I needed more (although he is billed as the Spiderman to this group of Avengers). In that mind I give him the comparison to Masta Killa, showing up a few times to drop some serious knowledge, but leaves me wanting more appearances from him. Second is that Estee Nack is by far the most experienced rapper amongst The Big East, having been in the game for well over a decade, while most emcees on Carpe Noctem average 4-5 years, if that. He’s really like the GZA of the group, spitting intense wisdom at you from his position of being basically a long-established industry artist. Big Ghost has a penchant for collaborating with artists that have only been on the scene for a short amount of time, shining lights on newer talent to boost careers (and his own by extension). Having the Nack-Daddy here shows me that, for this album, Ghost is more concerned with making the biggest statement and impact possible in determining where the culture is going from here.

Rigz (rleft), Mooch (middle), Rome Streetz (right), live from the grimiest staircase in NY

Mooch and Rigz, Rochester natives who just last month released their own Big Ghost album The Only Way Out (which I also did a write-up for), are the clear Ghost and Rae of this album, with Mooch’s erratic and shrill yelling across the record conveying that abstract nature of Tony Starks’ middle-career, while Rigz is more of a cold-blooded and collected street gangster like the Chef. The two’s partnership goes deep on this record as well, where they are always appearing together, usually one after the other, and even having their own solo track, Hate to Love, near the end of the LP. A lot of this material, particularly the solo track, would have fit well in the context of their solo record last month, but whenever you hear their verses on tracks like Gladiator School and Clyde Frazier Minks, you hear the clear difference that the cypher-like format has on their aggression and wordplay; not to downplay The Only Way Out, but it was more of a world-building and storytelling experiment, while on Carpe Noctem you are now in competition with the best emcees in the underground. Mooch in particular is rapping his ass off on every track here, coming with the aggression and humor that I’ve come to expect from him.

Recognize Ali kind of has this Phonte feel about him… if Phonte was an Italian mob boss with a love for cigars

Originally from Ghana, Recognize Ali is one of two rappers in the Big East who isn’t from the States, but he hasn’t had any problem here in America marketing his bloodthirsty music to the underground. If you’re looking for that grizzly, venomous heart of this record then you have no further to look than Ali, who’s slow and steady delivery reading like slugs from a heavyweight boxer. Every word this man says is menacing, and even on more light-hearted tracks like Fake My Death you’re met with a dire mob-boss looking to crush your skull. Gladiator School in particular contains the most intimidating verse on here, with his opening lines “live by the blade die by the blade /  I put the fork in your man have his head on a plate / you n****s gay while y’all was getting fucked for the cake / I was grinding busy in the streets carving my lane” only getting the ball rolling on describing how cold-blooded this dude is. I’m going to cheat a little and say that Ali is a mixture of two people: U-God and Killah Priest. The man raps in the same rasp and pointedness of Priest, but substituting the wisdom of the ancients for Baby U’s unmitigated threats.

Asun Eastwood (left), Mooch (middle front), unknown (middle back), Daniel Son (right), and Rigz (right back, with a … mango or some shit in his hands)

Asun Eastwood was the rapper I was the least familiar with going into this record. Asun is from Toronto, being the only rapper out of the 8 who is not from or living in the United States right now, and is closely associated with fellow Toronto artist Daniel Son. His steez is very similar to Daniel Son, who I had a difficult time telling apart whenever I first started listening to the record because both have this abrasive and coarse shout of a rap style and both have an clear accent (Asun has Belizean roots but I’m not sure about Daniel Son). Asun is different from many emcees on this record due to his lyrical diversity, getting into more personal situations and observations than some of the more stylistic rappers he stands shoulder-to-shoulder with. Goon Etiquette is the best display of his lyrics, where he compares is skill with that of some of the other “flashy” mainstream rappers from Toronto. His most distinguishing trait his is voice, which is a kind of husky gargle; it seems to physically slow his flow down to a more forceful stomp, and for this reason I compare him to Cappadonna. I’m really looking forward to getting into this guy’s discography, as well as Daniel Son’s who I’ve been putting off digging into.

Rahiem Supreme, best smile in the group bar none

Finally we have Rahiem Supreme, the most removed artist from the rest of the group. He’s mostly been grinding solo out in his native Washington, D.C., with his closest associate being the hermit-king ANKHLEJOHN. I’ve heard a few of his projects, so I was familiar with his style and work, but not only is his appearance here a surprise to me, but the fact that he would affiliate himself so closely with a group so large and diverse is a shock given how secluded he’s been up to this point in his career. But now that he’s in the context of The Big East, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Rahiem provides a rare ear for hooks, with two out of the three hooks on the record being brought him; his “FAKE MY DEATH LIKE MAKAVELLI” on Fake My Death gets me hype every time, and makes me wish some of the other tracks here were given the same treatment. His verses on here provide some of the more manically energetic moments on the record; whereas most emcees in The Big East are more subdued or smooth, Rahiem Supreme always comes out yelling and asserting his gangsta on the track. But he’s also kind of a chameleon of an emcee, where while his verse on Fake My Death is more traditional and mafiaso, he taps into a much more esoteric and formless flow on Benghazi Emporium, switching between rhyme schemes (and at times seemingly not having a rhyme scheme at all) effortlessly to match al.divino and Estee Nack’s energy. For these reasons, and for the rapping reasons also, the RZA seems like a good match for comparison, where the energy levels and flow are unpredictable.

And you know what, while we’re at it, The Big East even has a Poppa Wu (R.I.P.) figure in their ranks as well with Lukey Cage the skit god. The shit he says has no middle ground: the man is either profoundly wise or fucking hilarious. His intro Division 1 really puts into perspective how people who most of y’all haven’t even heard of are the ones who are running this shit right now, and that being unknown to the masses doesn’t mean they don’t have anything to offer. But on the outro The Abyss he admits that this underground rap shit isn’t exactly a secret anymore, and with people like LeBron bumping Benny the Butcher we are in a new generation where these hip-hop traditionalists like Griselda and Big Ghost are gaining more traction and fanbases than ever. For everything that I’ve said about The Big East being closely aligned to the energy that the Wu-Tang brought back in the day, I think Lukey being so involved with what Big Ghost is doing truly puts his work on the level of the Clan back in the day. While many of the emcees don’t get as hood conscious and reflective as members of the Wu would have back in ’93, Cage injects that “something bigger than yourselves” that the Clan was so big on promoting, and it gives life and wisdom to an album that otherwise would just have been a phenomenal posse album.

Individually all of the members shine brightly, but how does all of this translate into a true to form group effort? While tracks like The Elegy, Fake My Death, and Hate To Love show the most cohesive energy between the emcees (which is 90% due to the attempts at hooks on these tracks), almost every other track is a lesson on how to build posse cuts. Murder at the Opera, Clyde Frazier Minks, and the absolutely epic Gladiator School are all Triumph-level tracks where all members of this collective get time to bring their unique perspectives on the underground game right now, and while the latter two go over 6 minutes each it never feels old, like a never-ending cypher of dope emcees. Everyone understands that this is the group of a lifetime, and no member, and I mean no one, skimps on their verses, making all of these cuts, ESPECIALLY Gladiator School, some of the hungriest hip-hop I’ve heard in a long-ass minute. It’s just lyrics, dope wordplay, and varied presences on the mic that bring these men together, and the way they can stack up against each other without ever feeling old is an achievement very few groups, especially ones so large, can brag about.

The greatest triumph of this record comes from it’s mysterious mastermind, Big Ghost, who has sacrificed none of the gains he has worked so hard to establish in his 5+ year musical grind when creating the beats for Carpe Noctem, instead refining his craft into a forceful mission statement going forward into 2020. Ghost has always been a master of the beat loop, chopping samples into clean units that sound like butter over some drums, but the man has leveled up over his past few projects, becoming an excellent music arranger in the process. While the underground has been dominated by (admittedly fire) beat-loops, Big Ghost can create dynamic tracks that ebb and flow AND have dope loops to boot. A lot of this is due to his usage of The Santiago Men’s Basketball Philharmonic Orchestra, which not only saves him on sample clearance but also allows him to tailor sounds to his exact vision, creating tracks that have so much more life than a simple beat loop. Gladiator School, which is a track that back in the day would just be a simple loop (because who’re really listening to the instrumental on a 9 man bar-fest right?? Wrong.), but instead with Big Ghost we get an evolving beat that goes through phases and sections as the emcees get through their verses. The drums are constant, but the faint string passages, key flairs, spooky slide guitars, and the 80’s synth breakdowns all develop organically to crescendos that quickly wipe to continue the bloody cypher. Fake My Death is an amazing piece of work that feels like there isn’t even a loop here, with the instrumentation consisting of a virtuosic electric guitar player, a rock-solid bassline, tinny string phrases, horn breakdowns… god damn this shit is so well done. Honestly this shit sounds like some next-level Motown soundtrack shit, and probably one of the best pieces of music Big Ghost has ever written. But not only is this shit magnificent, Fake My Death flawlessly transitions into the next track, Paper Plane Lords, sounding like it’s the same instrumental take, slowing things down, thrusting that bassline right into your ears and spooking it up with these synthesized organ keys. But if you want to see the effects of unleashing immensely talented musicians onto a track look no further than Benghazi Emporium, which honestly sounds like an improvisational flute piece with that flutist going HARD on this electric guitar backed beat. Again there are some strings in here, the bassline is entirely on point, and the few drums we have here are simply to ground it while it’s buried under the full weight of the orchestra. But while these tracks are undeniably pushing his sound forward, the simplicity of the beat loop is still found here: Murder at the Opera works with pretty much just a snare line and a haunting female vocal sample, and Hate To Love is a pretty straightforward synth loop with a chilliness factor that sounds like the Rigz and Mooch solo project The Only Way Out. But one of the coolest tools Big Ghost uses here is the beat switch: Clyde Frazier Minks goes from these crazy soaring synth guitars to a deeeeep and cavernous darkness created by these icy digital bells and rattling bass. Goon Etiquette changes the vibe for three different parts: Rome’s part is a denser jungle of drums and shredding guitar notes, Ali raps over a more mysterious and tense beat, but Asun’s section is stripped of drums and given these Red Hot Chili Pepper’s guitar licks that give it this nostalgic and confessional tune.

Carpe Noctem in a lot of ways reflects the successes the RZA brought about with Wu-Tang Forever

Big Ghost’s Carpe Noctem is the best group album that has come out… since I can remember. Honestly I can’t recall a group that has had as much individual talent, group chemistry, and character since the Wu-Tang, and I say that with 100% confidence. Ghost has taken the supreme influence from Griselda’s mid-2010’s takeover and combined it with the roots of mid 90’s Wu-sense to create something that, going forward, sets the production bar onto the next level. The steps that he’s taken since the earliest days of Griselda’s dusty breakdown of modern underground production has built the sound back up into the lush, arranged, and live-instrumentation inspired classic sound that albums like Wu-Tang Forever popularized. So I think you can guess who I think the RZA of the 2020’s is going to be. Big Ghost has that magnetism that I was speaking of; people want to give their best effort to this man because he is the best in his respective field. He has come through with the best album of his career, hopefully just the beginning of an even more profound renaissance in the underground (aka The Abyss), and every member of this Big East collective recognizes the legendary moment and gives it 100%. Anyone looking for answers as to what the sound of underground hip-hop is needs to be shown this album, because it comes correct on every front: bars, beats, character, & aesthetic. These men have taken the genre down into the murky depths, and we really don’t know how far the darkness can go, but everyone should know that Big Ghost will always live up to the album’s title and seize the night.

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