A blind, Muslim, albino rapper? I have to assume that Brother Ali would be a viral sensation if he emerged in today’s world. In a world where minor celebrities arrive out of thin air due to a share-happy and click-happy society, it’s virtually guaranteed, because he has a hook. The clickbait alone would be epic: “This Blind, Albino Muslim Steps Out Onto A Stage. What He Does Next Is Incredible!”
Fortunately, the fact that Brother Ali has a hook isn’t the focal point of his music. It informs it, sure — on Shadows on the Sun‘s best track, Ali addresses self-confidence in the face of, err, non-traditional physical attributes, and his whole career emerged in the wake of his battle-rap credentials, which were no doubt honed by the bullying he’s been transparent about experiencing as a youth — but he’s a nimble, time-honored, gimmick-free emcee, and Shadows on the Sun is exhibit A.
Existing on Rhymesayers Entertainment — home of relatively wholesome, old-school-oriented backpackers — and boasting production by Ant of Atmosphere fame, Shadows on the Sun could have been the sort of white-rapper album that we saw many times over in the 2000s: the minimalist, esoteric, highbrow rap personified by the likes of Aesop Rock and Cannibal Ox. Which isn’t to take anything away from Def Jux or Anticon or any of the folks pushing abstract, different hip-hop in the 2000’s, but that’s simply not who Brother Ali outs himself as on this record. Rather, he’s positive yet hard-edged, with an easy, gruff, storytelling flow that sounds more indebted to Nas than any indie-kid’s concession to hip-hop. In other words, he may live with a pale face, but he hardly raps with one.
As with so many of the rap albums we’ve discussed in these pages thus far, Shadows on the Sun lives and dies by the force of its instrumentals; here, Ant, freed from the constrictions of creating beats for Atmosphere’s introspective and emotional frontman Slug, is able to weave a lengthy tapestry of hard-hitting boom-bap. The title track alone is a testament to how well Ant presents himself here: a nimble, intricate bassline forms the basis of the track, while cracking drums, spare piano, and chipmunk-soul sped-up vocals fill in the blanks. Ali, Ant, and the aforementioned Slug all acquit themselves nicely on “Blah Blah Blah”, which essentially sets up an Ali/Slug rap battle over squelching synths and DJ scratches. “Bitchslap!” delivers precisely what its title suggests with hard-hitting “We Will Rock You” drums and a bluesy chord progression, as well as the line “I’m a cross between John Gotti and Mahatma Gandhi, look between pimp and square you’ll probably find me there”, which seems to sum up Ali’s positivity-minded but street-sharpened manifesto quite well.
And then there’s “Forest Whitiker”, with that sunny beat and that addictive little organ trill, and a confident, optimistic Brother Ali waxing lovably about the value of confidence and self-worth dancing nimbly above it all. That opening verse says it all, Ali running down a list of his physical shortcomings before deciding “you might think I’m depressed as can be, but when I look in the mirror I see sexy-ass me”. Which, sure, it makes “Forest Whitiker” sound like Christina Aguilera singing the drippy inner-beauty ballad “Beautiful” even after being doctored up by a personal trainer and a make-up team, in theory; but Ali’s rhymes ring true, particularly to, perhaps, a writer who needed to be taught to find the beauty in his appearance instead of dwelling on some crooked teeth and a few extra pounds. Perhaps that writer walks around with a little extra confidence because of people like Brother Ali telling him on wax that he needed to own his image in order for others to buy into it.
So, yeah, “Forest Whitiker” is such a joyous, infectious, important song that it would probably elevate a lesser record with the sheer pull of its energy; fortunately, Shadows on the Sun is an immaculately-crafted, filler-free rap record, and can stand on its own merits either way.
Playlist track: “Forest Whitiker”
Drew's Album of the Day 