In a country saturated by indie rock guitar bands and techno-head guru’s, the lesser spotted ‘rapper’ has always been thin on the ground in Northern Ireland. Hip hop, rap and its genre affiliates have seen their popularities soar in the last two years in Dublin and the South, but in the North, it remains in its undeveloped, fledgeling status. For a population so steeped in its music, the amount of hip hop artist of any quality produced is embarrassingly low. The few that have emerged have begun to change the open landscape into their home: Dena Anuk$a and GRXL CODE, social platforms Banjaxed Records and GRASSROOTS and the East-Belfast wordsmith Leo Miyagee.
Fresh off the Bluebird EP, the release of which allowed me to discover him (I sat, transfixed at my desk, unable to comprehend that people in Belfast were making music that sounded like this), Miyagee wasted no time in releasing his second effort ‘Ffdlc.’ Moving to the North at the age of 13, music often afforded solace and comfort for the Zimbabwe-born artist. The spirituality and flow of Gospel was an early influence, followed by the bluster and pace of Grime before ‘Illmatic’ by Nas changed the game forever. All three play an essential part in the development and make-up of this record, which has a dynamic variety throughout that keeps listeners on their toes. Having written lyrics from the age of 15, Miyagee has developed control over both the complex and clear-cut in his spoken word delivery that has developed further even from his last release, often artfully manoeuvring his way through a tangle of tongue-twisting soliloquies. He benefits from new production as well, as the beats are colder and more vibrant, while his voice rings clear over their liquid lucidity.
More than anything, however, there is a believable depth that has developed in-between records that makes it far easier for you to invest yourself in Miyagee’s world. Opening track 'Motion Sickness' is critically self-aware, often simultaneously honest, funny and severe: lyrics such as “smoker not a drinker, but he’s steady on the Henny, when in Rome” seem to examine the intricate relationship between ‘Leo The Rapper’ and ‘Leo The Man,’ noting a perceived need amongst hip hop circles to ‘fit in’ by either drinking like, dressing like or sounding like whatever everyone else is. Noting these connections is essential to understanding the personal touch that Miyagee goes for. “I frustrate, then underrate, then overrate the status quo” he admits, observing his propensity to outperform expectations, even as he confers importance on them himself. There's a noted uneasiness to lines such as this, but also a resigned, stiff-upper-lip relentlessness to them that sets the tone of the album as one of resilience, self-belief and introspection.
This injection of personality in Miyagee’s writing touches home best when he manages to successfully blends his classical influences with his contemporary structures. Mumbled, hazy interludes have the quieter moments ooze with a woozy, dreamlike quality that brings to mind the vast landscape of SoundCloud/trap/mumble rap. Meanwhile, Wu-Tang Clan samples and claustrophobic drum track/bass line combos conjure tangible tendrils that bare links to Hip-Hops golden age in the ’90s. This meld of the old and new, seen on ‘Change Of Tide’ and ‘Free Smoke OG Kung Fu’, pay homage to the music that developed him while ultimately allowing Miyagee to follow his own path. Do not mistake the lo-fi aspects of this release for passivity however, as they often mask a slow-burning abrasion. The film-noir jazzy funk of ‘Saints Roe’, with its frustrated bite and jerking record scratches, is the most notable example of this. A 3-minute brooding proclamation, lined with contrast (Miyagee raps about his fears and dissatisfactions while his hip-hop heroes echo in the background), it’s a high point on the release, showcasing the full extent of the rappers prowess.
This propensity to show his hand whilst also blurring the lines between conflicting aspects of his lyrics comes into focus often and is the biggest strength of the album. Anger is often backed up by vulnerability, bravado with candour, professionalism with emotion. The duality of identity in his songs, seen in the piano-driven swagger of ‘Stilo’, the faded swoon of ‘Xhana Khan’ and the Dark, wavy meditation of ‘Change Of Tide’, is what gives the record its heavyweight potential. With its confident mix of current and nostalgic hip hop, observational nature and potent wordplay, it is hard to imagine an album such as this merging from the North 5 years ago. Now, however, Miyagee looks poised to be one of the leading faces that could finally break the cultural barriers that has seen us lag behind. An exciting album for an exciting time, ‘Ffdlc’ has helped Miyagee put his name on the map.
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