At this point in his career, Qwa’s pedigree is unquestionable. South Side representative extraordinaire; Low End theorist; endlessly inventive with flows and increasingly daring in subject and range. Long hailed for his vocal ability, the decades have seen Qwa transform into the rare artist whose symphonic flow is effortlessly matched to pitch-perfect confessional content. The moments that meld both into a unique storytelling voice are rare—Rakim’s "The Ghetto" comes to mind, as do Black Thought’s post-bop excursions. Qwa’s true corollary, however, aren’t his fellow MCs—it’s Charlie Parker, whose wrenching solos feature a technical genius that are only matched by their sorrow—the sound of Icarus’ wings melting. He’s found his proper spar this go-round—Batsauce is a Berlin-based turntable Gillespie (URB recently dubbed him "the next ‘it’ thing in…underground hip hop"), and their first full-length is a true titanic, trans-Atlantic meeting of the minds.
.jpg)
