Sach O rides like a Samurai
Fuck a cliché–Marseillais rapper, Shurik’n’s 1998 solo release, “Ou Je Vis” (Translation: Where I live), is poetic autobiography. While that’s like describing rap as “the hood CNN”, Shu’s rhymes about French rap’s second city actually fulfil their aspirations. Marrying an investigative scope to vivid descriptions of personal struggle and a metaphorical exploration of eastern culture, “Ou Je Vis” stands as one of the most uncompromising albums ever recorded.
As a member of the country’s single greatest rap crew IAM, Shurik’n grew from the group’s Phife into an emcee rivaling group leader Akhenaton, playing a major role in the group’s ascent to mega-stardom with 1997’s “L’Ecole du Micro D’Argent”, an album still regarded as the most successful in French history. However, when his solo debut was released the following year, few were ready for the stark collection of pessimistic musings delivered over minimalistic self production. “Ou Je Vis” wasn’t the expected follow up to a blockbuster, rather it was 32 years of frustration put on wax; a personal album preserving man’s struggle and society’s failings for posterity.
For foreign listeners, the most striking element is undoubtedly the production. Staccato eastern-scale strings, somber orchestral loops and Sahara-dry snares form the bedrock of an album unconcerned with standard musical signifiers. Where even Rza’s most abstract creations had a sense of propulsion, the beats on “Ou Je Vis” float atmospherically, there solely to provide an appropriate backdrop for the emcee’s words, rarely shifting, repeating with minimal variation until the song fades out.
It’s to Shurik’n’s credit that it works–few rappers can perform without the safety net afforded by high energy and dynamic production, but he trusts his two bar loops and rocks them off the strength of his words. His forceful monotone owing to Rakim and Gza, Shu’s restrained accuracy matches the beat’s minimalism with rhymes as sharp as the weapon he’s named after. Check the audio: of all the French rap I’ve played for non-initiates, this turns heads like nothing else.
Our life is a Chambara/Between Pride and law/we kill like a good old Kurosawa/ Our hands on a Katana/ even if with fear by our side we ride/ in the night like a Samurai – Shurik’n – Samurai (adapted translation)
The words are no less intense than the flow they’re delivered in. Combining the pessimistic lyrical dexterity of early Prodigy with Scarface’s old-soul wisdom, Shurik’n relentlessly exposes the hopelessness permeating immigrant life in France. L.E.F eviscerates France’s promise of “Liberty, Equality and Fraternity” for all, “J’Attend” and “Fugitif” are twin fantasies of crime, incarceration, escape and execution while “Reves” is a painful look at the meager dreams and aspirations of those swept under the social rug (spoiler: think decent dental care rather than a Maybach).
Elsewhere, the album’s autobiographical streak becomes more direct with songs focusing on IAM’s come up from early 80’s b-boys to unlikely pop stars. Through it all, the album maintains its thematic focus on Japanese warrior culture but where this could come off as gimmicky in lesser hands, it’s entirely natural in an album as intense as Samurais name-dropped.
The most striking moment is more west than east: a sample from Stanley Kubrick’s Spartacus, Shurik’n and partner in rhyme Akhenaton deliver the album ending Manifeste: a 4 and a half minute condemnation of well, everything, but also a plea for hope and a better future for France’s black and Arab population. 10 years later, it’s a painful reminder that little has changed on French soil, even as America embraces its first black President. Perhaps that stagnation explains why Shurik’n never followed up this debut: it’s everything he has to say, remaining just as potent as the day it was released. Here’s to the day it becomes a cultural artifact.
Download:
MP3: Shurik’n-“Samurai”
MP3: Shurik’n-Manifeste
MP3: Shurik’n-“L.E.F”
