With Blak Friday, Silas Blak provides a suitable opportunity for evolution and growth, all the while staying true to what we know him for.
In a climate where listeners obsess over authenticity while simultaneously excusing the counterfeit, originality stands out like crunch berries in your cereal bowl. Silas Blak is Silas Blak. He is no clone, copy or imitation. Where many artists tend to leach onto their predecessor’s styles, and some even make careers out of this, Silas Blak’s sound is his. I am hard-pressed to find anyone in the Northwest or nationally who rhymes like he does.
I wouldn’t say I’ve been a fan since day one, but I have been enthusiastically following his evolution. I liked what he did with Silent Lambs Project, I like his solo material with the aging-like-wine Dropcast album. And his new release, Blak Friday, is another notch in the veteran’s belt. He adds to his lore, he expands his style all the while sticking to what we know him for. If I had to describe Silas Blak’s style in one word, it would be “unorthodox,” as cliché as that may sound for new listeners.
I don’t always understand what dude is speaking on. I cling to the hooks, often, because that is where I gain the most clarity. But I’m not one of those cats who has to know and understand everything to enjoy it. I would love to ask him who he’s inspired by and see who has influenced his craft because it isn’t exactly obvious who helped shape his repertoire. Sometimes he doesn’t rhyme. He often pauses, sometimes awkwardly, between words and bars; whether that is to place emphasis or make the beat his own, I don’t know.
The highlight of Blak Friday is Cops On My Back. He starts off: “I miss every brother I saw on channel zero/while kingdom died walkin’.” The beat choice is superb. I got goose bumps on the first 20+ listens, now I just cling to his delivery and word choice. The subject is obviously relevant but that’s not enough to keep my attention. Bars do that. He continues: “Guns is hand puppets/some finger fuck/left my window open/heard all the noise…and it don’t make kids, it break kids/make kids grow quick/had they heart big.” On this track, Silas Blak manages to touch on gun violence and the stark reality and blunt relationship black people have with the police today, among other topics.
Silas Blak is best taken in small doses, however clever and unique he constantly is. This is especially noticeable in the number of tracks Blak Friday has. The intro’s length is a sparse 1:05. The outro is a meager 0:47. The meat of the album can be taken in sips and balances.
This is not an album to play through at various occasions or stages of your day/routine. Play this when you have undivided attention to lend to it. There are many artists who talk a lot but don’t say much. Silas Blak is not one of those artists. With Blak Friday, you get Blak’s soul served to you in 10 tracks.
If you feel like I’m fan boying out or riding yea-yea; go listen to Soul Liquor and Blak Friday and tell me any other artist who sounds like that.