‘Kimba Dawn’ 5/5 BARKS.*
You know that excitement when you are watching someone spit their truth? I don’t mean that in this ultra cringe white-boy-worship-but-doesn’t-know-shit kind of way, I mean in the “I am witnessing this mother fuckers acumen, right before my very eyes.” THAT’S what I had when I listened to Paranormal’s Kimba Dawn. It was fresh, clean, yet raw. You aren’t going to be reminded that “Everything is ok” but you will be welcomed to sit in what I refer to as, “The Fucked Up”**
This realistic approach can deter many listeners because we’re constantly being told how dark things are, whether its the news, social media, movies, etc, etc…but I think Paranormal unapologetically tears into your discomfort, pulls up a seat for you, and the only cost of admission is having lived and experienced, “The Fucked Up.”.
I immediately loved Kimba Dawn because it was all of the music I thought I wasn’t intellectual enough for, wrapped up in this very realistic, very beautifully crafted piece.
Paranormal (in my opinion, and soon, yours.) deserves a seat at the table with the greats, not the commercially great…but the real greats. The ones you sit around your living room table and dream to be about. The ones who perform in the basements, the ones hitting the streets because the glitz and glamor of hip-hop are insulting (to them, I, on the other hand, demand booty, cash, and jewelry….fuck, am I a pirate?).
Paranormal starts and finishes conversations with every single track. There is no mystery to how Paranormal feels, there is no cheap shock factor, there is just talent. He doesn’t rely on unrealistic scenes he’s never experienced. Granted, that type of music is fun, but it doesn’t tie into Paranormal’s image. To speak on that would be dishonest. Rabbit Hole, Beauty Behind The Bruise, Shine Eternal; ALL demand your attention. To not comply is to turn your back on not only underground hip-hop but on an open, woke, mind.
You can also connect with him on Twitter, where you can tell him “Daddy Brutus sent me here.”
* Heavy Brutus rates music on a scale of 1-5. 1 being “What?! My wife left me for a furry?!” and 5 being, “I can’t believe I copped this dime even though I’m a furry.”
** Listen…this is a registered trademark. This shit is going on the merch.
*** Long, long, long before I met your mother I threw a party. I had this chick come over. She was really into yoga, and I mean actual yoga. It was annoying. Why the fuck would you do that in a stranger’s house in the middle of a party? Who even are you? Anyway, bada-bing-bada-boom I ask her to leave and she says, “Namaste.” and I’m thinking, “Wow that’s a really cool way to accept rejection. Maybe I will call her.” but what she ACTUALLY said was, “Nah, I’m-a-stay.”. So…the next morning I made everyone else breakfast except her. Did she think salmon slices and bagels grow on trees? Get the fuck out of my house. Anyway, I have found Salmon spread to be a perfectly acceptable substitute to slices. Sound off on @heavybrutus on Twitter.