by Big Flowers
A Receptionist’s Analysis of a Drive-By Hello of Dogon Sirius
Hot on the heels of a very intense wave of fandom for Rahiem Supreme as a rapper, I was a bit perplexed as to how his most recent project drove right under my radar. Speeding, lane-switching, feigning a turn signal, they’re all utilities held proclivity in the toolbelt of the maturing emcee, so it becomes a little less perplexing to understand that every release will exist as a -cosm of sorts, macro, micro or somewhere in between. An even more focal lens brings me right to the gravity of the name and reinforces the power of both words and manifestation. As a creator, a human even, what you say matters. I say that to say when you name an album Dogon Sirius, the risk is run that people might not look at it. To be Dogon is to be familial, to be Dogon is to be hidden from the public, and to be Serious about being Dogon is to be ever fervent, foot on the pedal, engining right past the drop date, because there’s a cosmic web being untangled in the everpresent. As a vocalist once said, que sera sera.
This may never be the blockbuster of Supreme’s discography, but that makes it all the more alluring. Supreme is reinventing his flow hyperbolically, in several ways giving a slice of his rhythmic penchant that we may have never seen before (i.e. god glow), reminding the audience that, just like his side-account Instagram which is dedicated to a niche sector of motor vehicles, Rahiem is a man on the move. Settling on the surface as a collage of shredded journal pages, the album is a gestalt of the different ideological side streets you have to navigate to make it through metropolis without wasting your time in traffic. Self proclaiming that “ain’t nobody weirder than (him),” Rahiem knows what he does exists in some sort of orbit, and by the sound of it, that’s something he cherishes.
Divulging some of the more intimate sides of life in ways that aren’t conventionalized yet, Dogon Sirius isn’t that collage, it’s a spin around the sun, hand on the roulette wheel is none other than the king of motormouth himself, a superhero, championing his own nostalgia and reinvigorating it to fit through the 2022 shaped hole that exists in front of us all. Accompanied only by Fly Anakin, there’s a lot of time that you spend between intro and outro in passenger seat with the rapper, the whip filled with few and familiar producers, only as many as there are seats in the two-door transit-machine down the dog-gone road. If you tune out, checking the rearview, for even a second, you miss the whole point of the album as it seems to me. The whole point of the album as it seems to me is reflective of the Dogon principle of don’t look at it. If you do, the risk is run that you fumble the presence. Of course, it’s an album and you can stream it, therefore you can replay it, rewind it and all of the other tools we have to let a computer do our passions for us.
This is an album that commands the time to take the ride. Every album from Rahiem exists as a vehicular metaphor to me due to his own occult fandom of V8 and burning rubber. In that framework, Dogon Sirius is the solo scenic drive out to the nature surrounding the city, one that allows a birdseye into the matrix, and for some reason, nobody stopped the recording. The bars are so very close to home, both vulnerable and vulgar at times, by all means existing on his own fringes. If you look too hard, you’re looking past the present, and that’s dangerous when the present is all we’ll ever have. Dogon Sirius is the cliffnotes to Rahiem without all of the regalia, just a dude, and I’d argue we don’t get something this personable again anytime soon.
Rahiem Supreme is an artist always orienting towards reinventing the wheels, broken or not, and this is an exhaust cloud that’s symbiotic with breath. So breathe it, don’t look at it. It’s Dogon Serious, “a hook without a hook.”
Purchase Dogon Sirius below: