Comic books. Truth novels. Tunnel vision.You gotta have those. My monochromatic friends. Creepy little bastards creeping in on you. Party-hardy business men. All the money in the world, but not a single touch of so-called “time”. All the dreams, but not a single hint of cold-heated bravery. This is not what you wanted. Ah? Were we conscious of what we wanted, then? Cause things never really go our way, do they? Not what you had in mind. If only that mind of ours were strong enough to cope with things adequately. If only it could handle things the way they’re supposed to be handled. But no, you had to go do something crazy. You just thought one day: Let’s do politics. Yes. Let’s try politics. People need me. But people aren’t easily persuaded… Or are they? – Not by logic anyway. – Irritating little schmugs. Insects closing in on you. Serpents prone to bribery, blackmail, or the occasional threatening of whatever it is your wicked mind can think of. This is not what you wanted. Insects. Serpents. Creeps. Always blocking you. Always standing in your way. Always creeping up on you. Or – Or perhaps it really is just you?
Director of MV: Pfadfinderei
Holding back on gravity: It makes you dream. Live, eat, cry. Makes you want to move. Laugh, dance, try. Have a cup o’ dream. Oh, I mean, tea. Have a cup o’ tea. Throw around the fantasy. Non-existing colours, rainbows, sands and trees. I feel … alone and free. This is my photography. Homemade is what I feel. And the wind’s curling on top of me. Taking me to the One Big Tree, and those places I have yet to see. I feel … alone and cold. When you want to go up, but you get pushed down, and you’re left feeling old. – No more creativity, no more electricity. What’s left of the bold side of me? I feel … an alarm clock. Vibrations through my skin. Please, yes, make it stop. Where will time lead me? Where will I be making my cup o’ tea? Ah yes, homemade creativity. Taste the city catching up on you. Feel the one reality that’s true. Cause being free means to play with gravity.
Director of MV: Natalia Dufraisse & Filip Piskorzynski, made possible by The Creators Project
All I need is one mic. Just your regular guy, thinking stuff over in his head. Perfectly represented by the somewhat squatter-like scenery. (…) only if I had one love, one girl and one crib. Now, here’s a rapper who doesn’t need all your typical rapper-things. Let real artistic vulnerability unwrap itself. Admitted, you still have the police-thingy, but hey, that’s American rap. Context, man, context. (…) drops his Heineken. Bam! Dropping sound of the Heineken. Nice! We need more warriors soon. Now apart from context, it is safe to say this song is very appealing to the revolutionary mind. And, let’s face it, can you think of a song where the police-sample doesn’t work? If y’all people really with me, get busy, load up the — censored shit at the e-xact time that the grenade hits ya. Nice shot. Too bad all the suppressed idealistic anger there gets lost in the American censorship. Makes you wonder why “war” isn’t cut out. All I need is one life, one try (…) what I stand for speaks for itself. Said the fans who are lipping his rhymes. Nice way of appealing to the public, cause, yes, I do understand. You gotta fight for your right to an ideal, an opinion, self-expression. You’re right, all I need is one mic. This song isn’t about Nas, it’s about me. I’m on the right track I finally found, you need some soul-searching, the time is now. You’re right, I do need some soul-searching. Just let me go and self-express myself. Now, … all I need is one mic.
Director of MV: Chris Robinson