About Me
We may think of a kind of empire of Good that is developing everywhere, spreading over the world like a pool of mercury, neutralizing consciences, sanitarizing minds, and crashing down on the banks of hip hop itself. Positive attitude, respect (for who? For what?), lifting weights, the infinite repetition of a music that has lost its capacity to demolish and further, its capacity to frighten honest men. We continue to believe that there is no other ghetto than apathy, the single model, a multiculturalism without roots, deadly intercourse with interchangeable bodies. No other jail than the cotton fields of high-tech, the motorways of vice, apartments without soul. We ourselves are far from this, or have returned. We are thus obviously archaic: Mc Faïa with her endless and monochord flow, as hypnotic as the lava of volcanoes, she is the guide, takes power. Sole Necessity striking like opium mixed with very long sabers, whisper of the assassin, at once deadly and peaceful. There is also Netchaiev, vast and magnificent like a plague of locusts, caster of magic formulas, keen, determined, regular, with implacable rhymes, evocation of all that is unseen but exists. As the latest arrival in the group, he brings his vision, his flow erected at the walls of the city. Finally there is Art Karoll, his cult of lo-fi, pulverizer of rhythm, destructor of sound, the panic state of his compositions matched only by the virulence of his breath – his alto, a few refrains, more than massive, ponderous.
Three voices, a saxophone, a machine. Three years during which the Ferocious 41 project has been elaborated patiently and inexorably underground.
