producers: j.rawls, moodswing9

guests: sole, mr. dibbs, the pedestrian

It's always them. And with them are they. Or they are with them. And they are always the source of rumors, while they are watching us, and we should watch them, not trust them and put everything they say into perspective. Now Them make good music. Them that is Dose One and Jel, and they just released the album called "Them" to their Them project. So open them ears, open them eyes.

Take the foundation, provided by Jel and take the roof, contributed by Dose, and what you get is something solid to rest your feet on, and something closed, to take cover from polluting precipitation. And while the fallout drops somewhere between a billboard and the tunnel, them are taking brooms and sweepers, working as janitors in their own building. Them are they. Them is "I". A bleeping introduction, with on the hush hush rambling in the back. Hidden behind dusty books, and a low profile, this prevents confrontation with the uninvited. What is changed on "Directions To My Special" place, where Dose plays the role of annoying party host, or the insistent phone company representative at a exhibition. Behind him, J. Rawls is not only sorting through the samples they brought with 'em to hand out, he's also whistling this little melody he has in his head. This is followed by the 12" cut "Joyful Toy Of A 1001 Faces". Jel pours some scientific somethings over the strings he has found, while the drum is the red thread that's operating like the horizon. Hidden inside a photo camera, Jel and Dose plot out "Revenge Of The Fern". The beat screams for an instrumental, as this asks to be studied more closely, while Dose feeds off energy, sucking in the conventional, to convince us question our current state of freedom, and the progression of the man made. His way of expressing that is stating "will we do nothing, and have it no other way? science lives. skylines crushing our chest".

The strength of Dose does not lie within spitting the biggest bragging punchlines. What some would call being an 'emcee's emcee', others would call a poet that too often forces himself in hip hop rhyming patters. On the tale of the system that is supposed to make us smart, "Eating Homework", if you only listen to the tone of his voice, rather than to the content of his words, he will sound like a gibbering music element. An element that rambles like an insane sidewalk pedestrian, that chokes up bits and pieces of sense, that if cut out and newly assembled on a flat table, can be put together to get the brackets, as they were, before they were messed up.

Speaking of pedestrians: the Pedestrians and Sole show up on "Lyrical Cougel". And for this special staggering syllable chopping, Moodswing9 stacks up another notch on his counting board for dope tracks. This almost midtempo track, moves a little faster, with the singing and the hi hats. But Jel is fast to take down the celebrating vibe on "Grass Skirt & Fruit Hat". This expedition Robinson has Dose talking to us. Which is what he does best. Which is how he paints the clearest pictures. Which results in one of the best tracks on this album, as the catching steam production by Jel is much more than the bare canvas for Dose's colors. And if you then listen to "Crayon Sharpener", you can catch Jel switching into his hopeful Jazz mood.

On "John Brown's Vaporizer", Dose will be so far out in the left field, you will barely see him waving. And you will probably miss him waving, as his persona does not allow him to look up from the ground for too long, as his shoes are kicking dust. In the mean time Dibbs is adding layers. Then "Another Part Of The Clown's Brain" is just so abundant of delivery, that what is dropping off the plate, would be enough to feed 23 rappers lacking charisma. And what is there to quote off a texture, that without a thread would resolve the whole cloth? Moodswing9 then returns on a sine curve, with an emotional composition, that is the next highlight on this record: "Death Of A Thespian". The sparkling piano is bedded on a plush pillow, while the drum is a barb wire of tin soldiers that are marching around the crystal that Dose is manifesting, refusing to buy another vowel, as he still intends to solve the problem on his own. But finally even his patience runs out, as he is giving misconception the boot on "It's Them", pacing up and down the cage the fourth dimension has imposed on him this very minute. Having smelled the opposite side of the gate, having walked on a beach where no one has ever left footprints before, he's cry for help is uttered, but put into context. There I said it. But did I understand it?

If it only would be that simple though. If Them would always be them. And if you start to twist your brain a little, you will realize that at times, you are 'them'. And what you and your man say, is a 'they say' for someone else. So them in the end is us. We are they. We are all 'them'. But it's not as simple as that.