McKinley Dixon shows his emotions towards the late Toni Morrison openly to the public, describing how her influence affected so many different things in culture, asserting how we still don’t have a full grasp of her impact. The Chicago-based rapper believes the American novelist is the greatest rapper alive. Because, to him, her depth is just as genius as Rakim or KRS-One. Best known as a Pulitzer Prize winner and Nobel laureate who wrote the three-book series Beloved, Jazz, and Paradise, Morrison’s lyrical prose is filled with raw emotion and social commentary on America’s history. Her themes of identity, community, and freedom while exposing the truth about racism made her a familiar and relatable voice in literature.
Inspired by Morrison’s place in African American oral tradition, Dixon evokes her novels in his observations of the Black experience going through changes and struggles on Beloved! Paradise! Jazz?!, his fourth studio album named after Morrison’s Dantesque trilogy. Dixon is the type of artist who creates dense songs, evolving his sound rather than compromising by sticking to his integrity. It’s an aesthetic that makes quality rap good and Beloved! Paradise! Jazz?! is a prestigious work meant to be consumed in totality. It’s jazz-filled with conscious rap and soul, giving you plenty to dissect and break down without abstract references that might go over your head.
Dixon opens Beloved! Paradise! Jazz?! with an excerpt from Morrison’s Jazz read by poet and cultural critic Hanif Abdurraqib. Set behind an ominous synth, Abdurraqib’s interpretation of Morrison’s words paints a city that could swallow you whole but dually hopeful of its progression.
“Nobody says it’s pretty here. Nobody says its easy either. What it is, its decisive. And if you pay attention to the street plans all laid out, the city can’t hurt you,” Hanif reads. Dixon sets the tone of Beloved! Paradise! Jazz?! by using occurrences that happened to him in his life, to offer insight for others who have gone through the same thing. Some of his messages cut through clearly like “Run, Run, Run,” using an addictive hook and uplifting production to relive memories of “point and shoot” recess games that he used to play on the playground. Sadly, his childhood innocence suggests that running from guns as an adult is a harsh reality of gun violence. “Run, Run, Run” is his way of communicating that we need to end needless killings.
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“Live! From the Kitchen Table” is one great example of Dixon using perspective and storytelling to draw the listener in. Over jazzy horns and warm keys, Dixon places us at different kitchen tables, where the first table suggests a man who has gone on the wrong path, and at the second table, he returns home and remembers the seating arrangements from his childhood. “Live from my mama’s kitchen table, where she pulls heartbreak to the chest, and folds up cards to keep legs stable, where the currency for these is meals, is often laughter that’s exchanged and I ain’t, seen you in a minute, so sorry, tears blurring your frame,” he raps. On the next song, “Tyler, Forever,” a tribute to a close friend he lost and remembering the good times, Dixon adds a sudden urgency with a racing instrumental and triumphant horn before settling down with a jazzy flute. His ability to speak pain through his words while remaining upbeat in nature puts him in a rare form. “It’s murder music, for n***as who ain’t been murdered, I’m sure if he was here now, he’d say that shit’s unheard of, I’d laugh, say yeah you right, its probably true, then sitting on the floor, I’d realize poets lie too.”
Generally speaking, the modern sound of Hip Hop is trending in catchy melodies and simple rhymes, moving away from its foundation of kicking knowledge over beats. When a new emcee attempts to make this their lane, it’s difficult to hold our attention unless there’s the right balance of substance, a good ear for production, and concise songs. While Dixon tries his best to mirror the brilliance of Morrison’s writing and succeeds in making a compact album with everything he wants to say, his fragmented ideas to string lyrics together will have you lost in figuring out the meaning.
His creativity leads him to “Dedicated to Tar Feather” that’s unclear whether it’s a eulogy about his Rap career or death from heaven’s point of view. On “Sun, I Rise,” the same problem occurs, sounding like he’s rhyming just for the sake of rhyming. “Bullet meant for the temple of Goliath, but David went mad with power, now I’m here to kill the king that killed the giant, all hail, the slingshot kid, hope he survives my ass, pray I don’t love what I did,” he raps. Not all poets are good songwriters, meaning Dixon could be more meticulous about actualizing his grand visions with concrete verses that have gone through some revisions. What clicks with rappers like Billy Woods, Ka, and Roc Marciano is that they can be heady and precise without having to double back all the time. Dixon, in contrast, can leave listeners frustrated when he gets lost in his own writing.
He maximizes his talents on songs like “The Story so Far” and the album’s title track. The latter is a hopeful send-off that repeats “Beloved! Paradise! Jazz!” as a hook. Dixon is locked in as his verses speak on the duality of gripping steel while hitting the concrete to earn a living. It’s beautifully written, using imagery of fists clenched, finding your heart, and smiling in the sunshine. It’s the clear-eyed Dixon you want to hear more of.
