FarFromTypical

As Chicago winds up another long, hot summer, plagued by violence and riddled with tragedy, Typical Cats lob in another time bomb, a Qwazaar solo slab entitled "Reflections from the Porch." Anchored by a Natural beat awash in harmonies, bittersweet guitar, and, as always, dust-covered knocking drums, "Reflections" is a two and a half minute masterwork, a miniature history, and a meditative moment from one of the premier MCs of his generation. Described by Hip Hop Renaissance man Kevin Beacham as "one of the best natural Rappers of this era," Qwa is in excellent form here, leaning back into the stories, sipping from a jarful of memory.

"I remember beating on the tables / no interest from the majors / high school talent shows / booed us off stages... / wardrobe busted up -- couldn't afford the labels / cheap-ass backpacks -- sneakers that'll match that." In 4 bars, Qwa time-travels us decades back, digging into pre-TC lore and further, inviting us to examine the soul topography of a quintessential survivor.

Reflections From The Porch

As summer approaches, Typical Cats return with another gem, a blistering slab of frosted lunacy entitled “Bitter Cold.”  One of a constellation of Qwel solo shots from TC’s latest (3, G4), “Bitter Cold” marries a sinister Natural beat that swings like a gypsy funeral with inspired verses from TC’s resident embedded journalist.  Qwel rasps like a man knocking at the lid of his coffin.  He examines the rampant nihilism of post-Keef Chicago while sparring pugilistic drums and a swirling zydeco sample. 

“It’s all love so they say / but it don’t cost and it don’t pay / somehow he lost his way up in this maze / and the world turned him cold…”  With another long hot summer looming over the city, TC aims for the antidote. 

The Bitter Cold

Any Day

Justice Coming

Qweloquiallisms

2000 Classic from Typical Cats off the debut self-titled LP. 

88.5 Chicago. Yeah. 
I shoot the gift on the radio station 
88.5 WHPK was the only station that would fuck with rap 
88.5 Chicago. On the radio station. 
Takin' a train [repeat/fade] 

The thin red line is the thin spine 
I roll down the back of a city overgrown and overtaxed 
The wack stands of the rich pick a thin 
pockets bare and scatter, the skeletons of cultures with no rent control 
Pattering feet of prostitutes and penny brown 
children trades glass glades sweet for someone to pay or to listen 
I glisten like the question in the shorty's eyes 
sleeping in the train-car at the Lawrence stop when I get in 
Making pillows out of bare arms while I'm posturing poems 
but I can't name these eyes or the idea of less than home 
Home be unfinished it that fate hasn't sown 
in the skirt of an evening over mornings waste blown 
I see the moon I see the go going by on stilts 
as mouths wilt and turn blinded to girls' eyes 
Fate's hands have holes, we hold hope by the collar 
color red the closed eyes shut tight on the dollar 
Wills rock-heads to sleep, my eyes peal all the way 
to memorize a sleeping girl's face and bring it to PK 

Oh, shit I'm late I got a bus to make to take the 35th and State 
Get on the Dan Ryan red line and head downtown 
With head down experience life in surround sound 
Rhythematic speech occurs when the crowd's around 
Besides I'm still waiting on the train, plus I'm late already 
and how the fuck am I gonna get downtown and back to WHPK 
Man its already 8:40, too much thinkin 
I gotta keep this freestyle steady, now freestyles over things 
like this point to the fact that I'm sober 
I need weed, yo fuck the mission to the record store 
to put CD's on consignment just for fickle fans to not buy it, 
I thought they liked violence but anyway skip downtown 
I turn around I hear the train coming, head out now 
Train stop, hop in the backseat like a fuckin' taxi 
and I heard that DJ Nat be having fat sacs a weed 
Get off and catch the 55th and Garfield to University 
Hyde Park chill, I feel a dark chill when I hit the building 
Here with the intention to kill it 
Finally made it now where the hell is Qwel and Denizen? 

Reasons run thin by the end of the line 
but the signs can be read if you learn them in time [x2] 

Yo it's already Wednesday night, time for HPK's rap show 
but waitin' on sacs yo makes me late 
Fuck it gotta hit this open mic 
hopin' to leave stress at the rest so I can flow tonight 
I grab my rhyme book and hit the elevator 
lighter square freestyle the tale I'ma tell later 
Hike to the thin red line that's Sheridan 
by the time my name dries waitin' for the train here it is 
Amongst the chatter of workdays and old dreams 
The thin red line holds me to window seats 
The wind blows beats with sin don't sleep 
but neither can I with open mics on my mind 
My pen and pad describe 65-minute lifetimes 
from Sheridan to Hyde Park provides spark tight lines 
Who's these Typical Cats flexin' insane 
"It's the Q-W-A", "Denizen Kane" 

Good to see yall cats late again some typical shit 
For sure don't sweat it Denizen, yo it's cool that you made it in 
Yo my bad Denizen I had to catch some medicine 
Oh I feel the pharmacology, cats were just guessin' when 
we three breath these free prophecies 
Catch me settin' outer limits to these than HP 
to MC's that hate me probably cause they take themselves too seriously 
My fear is not being there you see to hear'em speak 
fo sho you know these flea-bitten felines is found 
And the loose tooth get left in the booth 
that's my man Dan in a fine fickle fix of fellowship and fools frontin' 
Fact remains Benneton ads on crack make you move something 
Similar to Hi-Tek and Talib only at hi-speed, fools frontin' 
but the fact remains they still won't do nothing 
Who's bluffin', fuck that, I'm all concerned with whose cuttin' 
Yo fuck who's cuttin', yo it's cool if you two dudes is puffin', huh skid? 
Not to crush this fat rap oh shit check out this Typical Cat Nat scratch 

[DJ Natural cuts it up] 


FarFromTypical

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