Melbourne's finest is back with his sophomore album "The Furnace." Not familiar with the freshman effort? Not a problem. As it happens we have that review in our archive courtesy of Patrick Taylor. Being exposed to Fluent's form of hip-hop for the first time, Mr. Taylor took a shine to it and penned these words about the cheeky MC:

"Fluent Form doesn't try to bite the subject matter of American rappers, and steers clear of tales of street crime. Instead, he offers a localized version of hip-hop that sounds authentic and real."

That's all one can ask of any artist from any part of the world - sound authentic and real. Unfortunately these are qualities that often seem lacking from brand new artists, who simply opt to imitate what's commercially successful in the hopes of quickly cashing in.

It's safe to say Fluent Form doesn't have that problem, for a variety of reasons. The easiest way for me to start is to describe who Fluent Form would appeal to - fans of Jedi Mind Tricks, R.A. the Rugged Man and Ill Bill. Unintentionally that may be implying there's an ethnic factor to his appeal, but it's more a factor of the fact Fluent forms lyrics that are unapologetically dark and gritty, and the beats reflect that persona aptly. Few albums can make you picture a city landscape where towering monoliths abut dark smelly alleyways the way "The Furnace" does, which is surprising given that's a reputation associated more with Chicago and New York than the major metropolitans of Australia. Nevertheless "The Furnace" has some of the hardest and nastiest tracks you'll hear in 2009, among them Geko produced tracks like "Lead Pipe Languages," "The Furnace Cometh" and "Endless Road." Whatever experiences shaped Form lyrically also shaped Geko musically. Ciecmate also checks in with dark piano keys for "Repent," while Must lives up to his name on "Bright Lights, Dark Shadows." You can literally hear people playing craps in the backdrop of the track - that kind of ambience is much appreciated.

Another reason Fluent Form doesn't have to worry about being pegged as a style biter is that his delivery itself couldn't be bitten in a million years. As a U.S. resident hearing this with American ears, I have to speak upon it from my perspective, but for my Australian readers I'll offer this analogy - think of the first time you heard Lil Boosie, Gucci Mane or Paul Wall. If you were a little baffled by the accents on first listen until you got used to their voices, that's pretty much the same reaction a head in North America will have to Fluent Form. To say his accent is thick would be an understatement, but to say it's as thick as Vegemite on toast might come close. I honestly think even some of his fellow Aussies might have a little trouble with his flow at first, vowels flying every which way other than the direction you'd expect. Despite that if you really listen, and I mean REALLY listen closely, the bars that Fluent Form is spitting are perfectly matched to the dark beats he raps on. Take "Paper Chase Days" for example:

"Chasin the cash, hatin the bank, run play fetch
With one day left to fix up unpaid debts
Sellin drugs always an option but I opted for sellin CD's
A constant balancing beam when stalking talented streets
[...]
Hardly any time to rhyme, but not any mind rewinds
Hypocrisy line for line, it's stoppin me find my shine
Hard to do, not a major in any occupation
Too many commonplaces, so many paltry payslips
Barely honored face it, pay tax on honest wages
Chumps and changes like compositions in my hip-hop arrangements
Always a negative view"

Surprisingly for a rapper who so wholeheartedly embraces the dark, dirty and disturbed in life "The Furnace" is an uplifting and perhaps cathartic experience. Form's struggle is one all but the silverest of spoons can appreciate, always trying to get ahead but barely staying afloat, never taking for granted the success he can eke out and sometimes working two jobs just to support his one passion. There's no question Fluent Form is passionate about every part of his hip-hop art, so it's a shame that for some his accent may be the only impediment to accepting him as dope. Give the beats a chance first even if you don't follow the flow, and with enough time you may find Fluent fits into your form of hip-hop music too.

Music Vibes: 7.5 of 10 Lyric Vibes: 6.5 of 10 TOTAL Vibes: 7 of 10

Originally posted: November 10, 2009

Is there any greater testament to the power of hip hop than its continued ascendance in distant lands? If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then this culture created and perfected in America's most forsaken districts is one of the most revered commodities in existence as it earns new devotees almost weekly in different countries across the globe. And if the newest release from the Crate Cartel crew is any indication, the future of the art is in good hands whether in our own great nation or any other.

From the limited research I've done, it seems that artists from outside the U.S. have better success bridging the MC/producer gap, and Geko proves himself worthy of both titles here. An up-and-comer in the Australian scene, Geko has already begun making a name for himself behind the boards, and "The Crate Cartel" is his first attempt at proving his worth behind the mic as well.

In listening to rap albums from foreign lands, I'm always amused and intrigued by the particular influences that shape a given artist's work. For domestic hip hop acts, it's usually a pretty straightforward correlation: an L.A. cat is going to have that West Coast vibe; someone from the ATL is likely to bring that Dirty South bump; and an MC from the East will probably have some lo-fi boom-bap. These are trends rather than absolutes, but even the deviations prove the rule, as when you hear something like, "He's from L.A., but he has an East Coast flow." Being from a far-away country frees artists from many of these geographic constraints, making it anyone's guess what direction their music will take.

Don't ask me why, but the Wu-Tang Clan would not have been my first guess as a musical antecedent to this Australian's work, but it is readily apparent upon listening to "The Crate Cartel." The sound is a bit cleaner than your typical RZA or Mathematics track, but Geko employs the same sinister loops whose simplicity produces a hypnotic effect that sucks you in. "My Time Pt. 2" is a lesson in understated power with its single-note bassline and haunting vocal sample, which meld to create a Shaolin synergy the Staten Island boys could easily rock over. "The War" sounds more like JMT's Stoupe the Enemy of Mankind, from the eerie harpsichords to the ominous sped-up chanting in the background, and "Check the Geknique" could be DJ Muggs after his Wu-Tang internship. "The Blood" featuring Luke Mac continues in a similar vein, once again settling comfortably in Jedi Mind territory, and Geko sets it off nicely with some battle type lyrics:

"It's profound, definite, I step in with my own sound
Then go about gettin' it, just reppin' in my hometown
Your whole ship's jettisoned, as reticent to throwin' down
Like the HMS Pennington, the remnants were not found
I got down malevolent, spit devils in my pronoun
So natural with the penmanship but it's evident I flow now
I throw down the pro sound, my know-how know no bounds
I throw towns a phantasm and float around in a smokin' gown
Or in a broken-down whip, tokin' down spliffs
Kids is open now off the potent shit I'm quotin' now
It's over now, you ain't need no soap or towel"

I can't promise I got every one of those words right, as the accent is something I'm not entirely familiar with, but the delivery itself goes down smooth even when you can't catch every nuance.

The accent itself is always something to contend with for us international neonates in the U.S., but with some semblance of an open mind it shouldn't be a problem. Geko doesn't overdo it, but he also doesn't shy away from it, making it feel like genuine expression rather than cultural gimmick. If you can stomach Dizzee Rascal, then this should be no problem for you.

Like his Cockney counterpart, Geko uses his ample personality as the music's motivating factor, and it works quite well. His energy is felt in the dark instrumentals, the animated flow, and the ability to slip in the occasional deeper point. Because while Geko spends most of his time doing the Vinnie Paz thing, spitting braggadocio laced with apocalyptic undertones, he also finds time to muse about endurance in the face of his own limitations ("This Is It"), youthful anguish and its violent outcome ("Suicide Kings"), and even the absurdity of religious extremism in all its forms ("My Time Pt. 2" featuring Raven). This diversity, however limited, gives Geko enough of that added dimension to make him seem like a fully formed figure who looms behind the music. And it is his presence in all the details that makes a work so reminiscent of his forebears' distinctly his own. I guess we're outsourcing everything now.

Music Vibes: 8 of 10 Lyric Vibes: 8 of 10 TOTAL Vibes: 8 of 10

Originally posted: March 24, 2009
source: www.RapReviews.com

Available through Crate Cartel Productions

Source  http://www.planeturban.com.au/node/9718

Fluent Form may be from Melbourne, Australia, but he is clearly in a New York state of mind. His commitment to lyricism and the dark, cinematic beats he raps over pay homage to classic East Coast hip hop. He makes the type of hip hop that usually gets the prefix "real," as in true to its roots, and free of the glitz and artifice of mainstream rap. There are no autotuners, vocoders, or R&B singers on "Chapters of Substance;" just ten tracks of hard beats and hard rhymes.

Fluent Form gets production help from Doc Savage, Mizari, Geko, Ciecmate, Must, Trem, and Methodz. All the producers do sparse, brooding beats that are a little RZA, a little Primo, and sound way more Staten Island than Down Under. I have a hard time understanding how people from such a warm, sunny continent could make music so dark and cold. Whatever their motivation, they do it well, once again proving that Australian producers can hold their own on the boards. The tracks all sound good, although the somber mood of the album gets claustrophobic and a little monotonous by the end.

There is a punk element to Fluent Form's half-shouted lyrics, and in the general mood of the disc. If he had been born a generation earlier, he probably would have picked up a guitar rather than a mic. He's not doing anything near Limp Bizkit territory, but he does bring some of the honest anger and frustration found in great punk to hip hop. Like most Aussie rappers, Fluent Form doesn't try to bite the subject matter of American rappers, and steers clear of tales of street crime. Instead, he offers a localized version of hip hop that sounds authentic and real.

American listeners might have an issue with Fluent Forms thick Aussie accent: it is impenatrable at times, which makes his lyrics difficult to understand. He's like fellow Aussie MC Clandestine in that regard, and both share a similar aggressive flow that is difficult to follow. One thing you definitely won't hear is any cursing; Fluent Form keeps it clean on all ten tracks without sacrificing any intensity. Without the standard curse words to fall back on, Fluent is forced to use language to get his point across, which makes him a stronger MC, and makes the album more interesting.

"Chapters of Substance" is a strong debut by an MC doing his best to keep hip hop real. Fans of classic East Coast rap should check this out, as well as fans of Aussie hip hop. Fluent Form is proof that Australians can rap, and that it isn't all sunshine and surf in the land Down Under.

Music Vibes: 7 of 10 Lyric Vibes: 7 of 10 TOTAL Vibes: 7 of 10

Originally posted: September 30, 2008

source: www.RapReviews.com