Elucid’s music exists at the intersection of observation and imagination, blending raw experience with creative reflection. As both a rapper and producer, the New York artist is known for weaving the gritty realities of life into his sound, creating songs that pulse with the urgency of the times. His work is a mirror held up to a precarious world, and his awareness of the body he inhabits—both as a Black man and an artist—drives his music with deep purpose. In his latest album, REVELATOR, Elucid builds on the narrative threads from his previous projects, specifically 2022’s I Told Bessie, which offered a more hopeful counterbalance to the darker themes that had characterized some of his earlier work. REVELATOR, while serious and tightly wound, retains a clear-eyed optimism beneath its clenched fists.
On “Bad Pollen,” Elucid delivers a striking image that captures the essence of persistence in the face of adversity: “I squeeze my children’s hand and walk hard against the wind.” It’s a metaphor for resilience, portraying a man who continues forward, not just for himself, but for the future he is determined to shape for those he loves. This tension between hardship and hope runs through the album, with Elucid offering music that’s as much about surviving the present as it is about fighting for a better tomorrow.
Elucid’s brand of indie hip-hop has often been associated with wordiness—a hallmark of the underground scene that can sometimes be critiqued as overly complex. But on REVELATOR, his songwriting stands out for its precision. Rather than flooding listeners with verbose verses, Elucid uses his words sparingly, crafting lines that cut deep with economy. On tracks like “Ikebana,” he distills heavy themes into potent lines: “My favorite month September/I make gorgeous babies but I’m done makin’ N-words.” In just a few words, Elucid communicates the weight of fatherhood, the act of creation, and a refusal to pass down toxic legacies. His approach isn’t to overwhelm with vocabulary, but to evoke something powerful with fewer words, letting emotion rise through the spaces between them.
Tracks like “World Is Dog” highlight this approach, with concise yet frenetic songwriting. Refrains are used like mantras, cycling through ideas with a rhythmic intensity that makes the music feel both accessible and intellectually stimulating. Elucid’s restraint in word count only amplifies the emotional resonance of his work, making each phrase land with greater impact.
The sonic landscape of REVELATOR is as layered and textured as its lyrics. Elucid, who is deeply involved in the production process, collaborates with a group of talented producers—Jon Nellen, August Fanon, Child Actor, The Lasso, DJ Haram, Samiyam, and Saint Abdullah—who help craft a sound that incorporates noise, ambient drones, glitches, and distortion. It’s an auditory collage, full of seemingly disparate elements that come together into something cohesive and visceral. Live instrumentation, however, remains the glue that holds it all together.
Nellen’s drums and Luke Stewart’s dynamic basslines are particularly notable, adding a live, organic element to the otherwise abstract production. Stewart, a virtuoso known for his work with avant-garde collective Irreversible Entanglements, injects grooves and rhythms that drive tracks forward. On “Slum of a Disregard,” Stewart’s bassline creates a taut, propulsive undercurrent, punctuated by gasps and Elucid’s chopped-up voice declaring, “My landlord … is a … Zionist.” These layers of sound mirror the layered themes in Elucid’s lyrics, blending political consciousness with an intense, sometimes disorienting, sonic atmosphere.
Elucid’s voice serves multiple roles throughout the album, shifting between instrument, tool, and weapon. His baritone is steady, a grounding force amid the chaotic noise. In some moments, such as on “CCTV,” he delivers his lines with the gravitas of someone reading from an ancient scroll or stone tablet, imparting wisdom and prophecy. In contrast, tracks like “SKP” showcase a softer, more intimate vocal performance, as though the listener is overhearing whispered conversations between lovers in the dark.
These tonal shifts give the album a dynamic quality, balancing intensity with moments of quiet reflection. His voice becomes the constant amid the swirling production, anchoring the listener in the narrative even as the music pushes boundaries sonically.
REVELATOR is deeply rooted in the themes of resistance and struggle, both personal and political. Elucid’s lyrics explore the challenges of living in a world where alienation and oppression are commonplace, particularly for Black people in America. On “In the Shadow of If,” he reflects on the discomfort of seeing symbols of nationalism and conservatism—flags that represent ideologies in stark contrast to his own: “Too many flags/One too many flags/Seeing all those flags outside the city made nervous/Physical reminders I’ve been cursed to concrete.” For Black New Yorkers, the imagery of U.S. flags paired with symbols like the Confederate battle flag or “Blue Lives Matter” can feel like a reminder of exclusion, a visible sign of hostility.
But for all the challenges Elucid speaks to, REVELATOR is not an album devoid of joy. In fact, it’s a project that finds meaning and even celebration in the act of resistance. On “14.4,” he declares, “I’m in your sundown town holding my dick, dolo,” a line that oozes defiance. It’s not just about survival; it’s about thriving in spite of the forces that seek to diminish him.
REVELATOR may be a breakout moment for Elucid, but it doesn’t compromise the rough edges that have always made his music compelling. It’s an album designed for both live performance, with its dramatic flourishes and complex arrangements, and deep, solitary listening, where its layers of sound and meaning can be unpacked. More than anything, though, REVELATOR is nourishment for the soul. It’s for those who believe in a better world and are willing to fight for it.
In a time when so much music feels disposable, Elucid has crafted something lasting with REVELATOR. It’s not just a collection of songs—it’s a manifesto of hope and resistance, grounded in the present but with its sights set firmly on the future. And for those listening closely, it offers a soundtrack for both the struggles and the joys that come with building that better world.
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