a dark kingdom, erected from rubble, an arid production clashed with unstructured loops, some of which, though already used, are like reborn from their ashes in a climate of dull violence. jazz, soul, classical, gospel, lyrical grandeur, in an atmosphere of conquest or on a minimalist piano coming straight out of a thriller, the pair of rhyme-makers compete with any instrument, finale temperating by a laid and reflective flow the fiery fangs fel sinks on every bar. this kingdom, fel & finale, will have built it alone, fel sweetenberg taking charge of all the beats delivered to the duo s screened pages in ink, the door ajar only to let dj djaz introduce his turntable s tonearm to scarify the groove with his unique cuts. balancing the forces, bringing their ambition beyond the ill-famed streets that have already crowned them, finale & fel sweetenberg raise the matt colors of a demanding rap, the radiance of their banner now beyond the limits of a detroit-camden axis. two kings, two crowns. a reign: that of hip hop.
