It's Hip Hop Literature Time,Boys and Girls!

Some of you reading my blog may have notice the name Rhymeweaver popping up here and there every once in awhile.For those who do not know, dude's a,in his own words,a struggling rap artist hailing from Malaysia but currently studying in New Zealand (where the milk powder are melamine free) to be an English teacher. I met him in a friendster group for hip hop zealots,and RW, being the experienced rappuh that he is,taught us noobie rappuhs some tricks and shiznit on multiple syllable rhymes,recording techniques and other boring stuff to non-rappuhs.Anyway,I did a little post on his stuff awhile ago,and this will be another 2 cents worth on his new mixtape,The Rhymeweaver Presents THE MIXTAPE SERIES VOL. 1:Music From and Inspired by Classic Literature,or TRPTMSVOMFAIBCL, for short.Which is not exactly short.But I digress.

As the mouthful-of-a-title suggests,the mixtape contains 5 songs that took their sources from famous classic literature (well to some of you anyway),which includes Billy Shakespheare's Macbeth (Ambitions as a Rider),HP Lovecraft's The Shadow Over Innsmouth (Night of the Deep Ones),and a couple of songs on the Holocaust and Hitler (Maybe RW read Mein Kampf as inspiration besides Maus),and one Persian poem,Layla and Majnun.OK,to be honest,I haven't read some of the original works before,so I cannot bitchfit and wail about how RW should omit or include certain parts of the original works into his songs.But not knowing in detail the classic literature could be a good thing since it won't spoil your experiencing RW's intriguing tales.But of course those who know the original work can easily relate to what RW is talking about.And now I have no idea what I am talking about.Anyways.

I remembered when I first encountered RW,he introduced himself as 'a rappuh that specializes in multis'.And this mixtape is sprinkled with multis all around,which IMHO is no small feat because the songs are basically stories told through rhymes,and every line that follows the previous must have a connection,therefore it is amazing that he can spit lines of multis that makes sense and does not interfere with the flow/plot of the story.With his vivid storytelling,fantasy worlds with eerie creatures,meticulous plans of murder and the horrors of genocide comes to life.

I did notice though that RW likes to end a lot of sentences with 'pair words' (well that's what my teacher calls it anyway)with the conjunction AND in the middle ,such as:
breathing and crying
good and faithful
bruised and painful
pain and hardship
corruption and evil
servants and friends
bitches and wife
spouse and his son
slow and hobbling
oval head and round ears
cold and rigid
etc etc...

I am not sure whether RW purposely use this type of rhyming or he wrote it without realizing it,I for one whore this technique to death when I was writing essays in secondary school,and personally I think pair words are excellent for describing scenarios and ..well all sorts of stuff.But it sounds kinda good on the ears lol.My favorite track off the mixtape is without a doubt Night of the Deep Ones (watup Jin!),where RW describes a creepy encounter between a man and some locals of a small town,which turns out to be bizarre hybrid fish-man creatures. RW told the story with such clarity that you can actually see the whole tale unfolds in your mind's eye.Not really feeling the love story though (The Eye of the World) since I am just a bitter cynical bastard.

For those who like classic literature told with a breath of fresh air,download this mixtape quick, or preview it here.I'm sure you won't regret it.For those who like dumb shit club songs,go download Nelly's new album and give this mixtape a miss.Another reason why you should at least give RW a try is because dude's a hardworking man; he actually included in the mixtape: the 5 songs,the lyrics,cover artwork,notes about the songs,the original works,RW's biography,RW's links, preview of his upcoming mixtape,link to feedback,AND a subscription.ALL FOR FREE. Respect,homie.

Shadowfiend

The Raven-Edgar Allen Poe

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door
Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door;
This it is and nothing more."

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I opened wide the door;
Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!"
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;
'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as "Nevermore."

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
Then the bird said "Nevermore."

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of 'Never — nevermore'."

But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite — respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil!
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted
On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore
Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I implore!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us — by that God we both adore
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore —
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! — quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted — Nevermore!