dälek's music is dark, noisy and atmospheric, equally inspired by industrial music like Einstürzende Neubauten, the layered noise of My Bloody Valentine and the dense sound collages of Public Enemy. Their sound is often constructed through sampling and a musical base atypical of most hip-hop, making it difficult for people to classify their sound. They have been described as trip hop, glitch-hop, and metal-shoegaze-hip-hop, as well as criticized for their broad range of sound.
MC dälek described the group's music to the Chicago Sun-Times:
“It's purely hiphop, in the purest sense. If you listen to what hiphop has historically been, it was all about digging in different crates and finding different sounds, and finding different influences to create. If Afrika Bambaataa wasn't influenced by Kraftwerk, we wouldn't have 'Planet Rock'. So, in that sense, what we do is strictly hiphop.”
“If there is a difference, it's that the palette of sounds we work with is more varied than what has been called hiphop in the last 10 years. Somehow, as hiphop grew, it's been put into this box. I think it's funny when people are like "That's not hiphop. It's this and this and this." You can try to rationalize it as whatever you want to rationalize it as."
Studio albums:
• Negro Necro Nekros (1998)
• From Filthy Tongue of Gods and Griots (2002)
• Absence (2004)
• Abandoned Language (2007)
• Gutter Tactics (2009)
• Untitled (2010)
• Asphalt for Eden (2016)
• Endangered Philosophies (2017)
• Precipice (2022)
Collaborations, EPs and compilations:
• Megaton / Classic Homicide (2000) Split collaboration with Techno Animal.
• Ruin It (2002) In collaboration with Kid 606.
• Dälek vs. Velma (2002) Split collaboration with Velma.
• Derbe Respect, Alder (2004) In collaboration with Faust.
• Streets All Amped (2006)
• My Education vs. Dälek (2007) In collaboration with My Education.
• Deadverse Massive Vol. 1 (2007) Rarities 1999-2006.
• Griots and Gods - Les Eurockeennes Festival Belfort (2010) Live collaboration with The Young Gods.
Distorted Prose
Dälek Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
This troubling advance of half-assed crews crowd these streets.
Never mind of who I am, son, just listen when I speak
Broken paragraphs hold wrath of a hundred million deep.
Bleak circumstance led masses to only want to dance
A bastard child of Reaganomics posed in a B-Boy stance
Make our leaders play minstrel, Left with none to lead our people.
How the fuck am I gonna shake your hand, when we never been seen as equals?
False prophets read backwards from broken tablets to the feeble,
I seen you!
Regurgitate their lies.
I'll bide my time with scrolls and ancient's wine.
Heady brew left mark on this hazy scribe.
If stars align I suppose even the blind will see,
How they stole our last voice, corrupted culture into industry.
Few minutes remain,
A tame soul wanders wild when it dreams.
Mine are filled with ill visions of soot and dope fiends.
These slit wrists won't rest till I spill these last drops.
Tarnished skin only sin when I awoke on sidewalk.
Seen your movements through peripheral
Remain same individual.
When a man's viewed as criminal to act animal is logical.
Audible tones honed to hold substance
Form sentence
Poor reluctant poet, speak prose
Refuse to beg repentance
Reluctant poet speak prose
Incite our peoples
We got raked through those coals
Once the truth was divulged.
Conscience calls thoughts subliminal
Actions all cyclical
Deplorable descendants of men depressed clinical.
Answers seem visible when visionless
Useless souls fold under pressure like hands pray to false Jesus.
Inadequate adversaries advance awkwardly.
Anger expressed outwardly
Causes ranks to break amongst these frail MC's.
Your fictional tales told with conviction.
Concise concepts once written enter bloodstream
since this inks been forbidden.
Distorted poet, speak prose
Incite our peoples
We got raked over coals
But the truth's still untold.
Meaning lost to these zealots
Prefer bullets to ballots
Watch the rich sip from chalice
As these eyes fill with malice
Peasant hands remain callous
as our days retain darkness
I swallow razor blades to keep my vocal cords sharpened.
Morbid mixture of mistrust and anger paints picture.
Perception now blurred words slurred to form scripture.
These sullen souls misinformed
Storm gates of stronghold
Strange fate that I chose
Morbid poet speak prose.
Tattered voices arose
Red Blood written on scroll
Escapes throat an ill flow
For my violence atoned.
Modest thoughts monotone
Infant MC's play grown
Found them hung in hallways
from cords on microphones
Dälek's song "Distorted Prose" is a powerful commentary on the state of society and the effects of capitalism and politics on marginalized communities. The song opens with the line "Broke stride as last of men realized their deep deceit," suggesting the disillusionment and betrayal felt by those who have been neglected or oppressed by those in power. Throughout the song, Dälek criticizes the commercialization of culture, describing the exploitation of hip-hop by the music industry as a means of furthering capitalism.
Dälek also touches on the theme of racism and inequality, referencing Reaganomics and the false promises of equality that were never fulfilled. The line "How the fuck am I gonna shake your hand when we've never been seen as equals?" exemplifies the frustration felt by those who have been systematically marginalized and excluded. The song also calls out false prophets and the church, which Dälek suggests has been complicit in oppressing and exploiting marginalized communities.
In the final verse, Dälek reflects on the violence and disillusionment that characterizes life in these communities, describing "tattered voices" and "infant MC's play[ing] grown." The lyrical imagery is haunting, emphasizing the desperation and hopelessness that characterize life on the margins.
Overall, "Distorted Prose" is a searing critique of capitalism, politics, and societal inequality, and a powerful articulation of the frustration and disillusionment felt by marginalized communities.
Line by Line Meaning
Broke stride as last of men realized their deep deceit.
The last remaining humans were disillusioned with their own deception and lost momentum in their progress.
This troubling advance of half-assed crews crowd these streets.
The influx of mediocre groups in the music industry is distressing and suffocates genuine talent.
Never mind of who I am, son, just listen when I speak
My identity is irrelevant, but my words are important and deserve attention.
Broken paragraphs hold wrath of a hundred million deep.
My writing reflects the collective anger and frustration of millions.
Bleak circumstance led masses to only want to dance
The tough reality people face has led them to escape through entertainment rather than confront their issues.
A bastard child of Reaganomics posed in a B-Boy stance
The negative consequences of Reagan's economic policies have affected me, and my rebellious attitude reflects that.
Make our leaders play minstrel, Left with none to lead our people.
Our leaders have become puppets, and there is no one qualified to guide our society.
How the fuck am I gonna shake your hand, when we never been seen as equals?
I cannot pretend to have a friendly relationship with someone who has never respected me as an equal.
Deemed evil by those housed in church steeples.
Religious leaders often label non-conformists as evil.
False prophets read backwards from broken tablets to the feeble,
Corrupt religious figures manipulate and deceive their followers with twisted interpretations of religious texts.
I seen you!
I have observed and recognized your deceitful behavior.
Regurgitate their lies.
People blindly repeat lies and misinformation without questioning their authenticity.
I'll bide my time with scrolls and ancient's wine.
I will gather knowledge from old texts and learn from the past while waiting for my opportunity to make a difference.
Heady brew left mark on this hazy scribe.
The strong alcohol has impacted my ability to write clearly but may have also inspired creativity.
If stars align I suppose even the blind will see,
If all circumstances align perfectly, even the most unaware individuals will have a moment of clarity.
How they stole our last voice, corrupted culture into industry.
The music industry has stripped us of our authentic expression and replaced it with manufactured products.
Few minutes remain, A tame soul wanders wild when it dreams.
Time is running out, but even a passive individual can have wild dreams and aspirations.
Mine are filled with ill visions of soot and dope fiends.
My dreams are plagued with unpleasant images of urban decay and drug addiction.
These slit wrists won't rest till I spill these last drops.
I will not give up or rest until I have expressed my final thoughts and feelings through my creative work.
Tarnished skin only sin when I awoke on sidewalk.
My rough appearance became a sin in the eyes of others when I was forced to sleep on the street.
Seen your movements through peripheral, Remain same individual.
I have observed your actions from the corner of my eye and have concluded that you are unchanging and predictable.
When a man's viewed as criminal to act animal is logical.
When society labels someone as a criminal, it is natural for that person to adopt savage tendencies since they feel they have nothing to lose.
Audible tones honed to hold substance, Form sentence
I carefully craft my words to carry meaning and form coherent thoughts.
Poor reluctant poet, speak prose, Refuse to beg repentance.
I am a humble poet who speaks truth through my writing and will not back down or apologize for my beliefs.
Incite our peoples, We got raked through those coals, Once the truth was divulged.
Motivate and inspire our society to unite and fight against those who have caused us harm and lied to us once the truth has been revealed.
Conscience calls thoughts subliminal, Actions all cyclical, Deplorable descendants of men depressed clinical.
Our subconscious thoughts and desires drive our actions, which continue in a never-ending cycle of negativity, although we are capable of breaking this cycle.
Answers seem visible when visionless, Useless souls fold under pressure like hands pray to false Jesus.
When we have no vision, the answer may seem more apparent, but it is better to have a clear sense of purpose than to blindly conform, as weak individuals do.
Inadequate adversaries advance awkwardly, Anger expressed outwardly, Causes ranks to break amongst these frail MC's.
Weak opponents try to advance through awkward means, and their outward anger causes divisions among their own ranks.
Your fictional tales told with conviction, Concise concepts once written enter bloodstream since this inks been forbidden.
People believe in fictitious stories presented with confidence, and written ideas can impact us deeply since there are limits to free speech.
Distorted poet, speak prose, Incite our peoples, We got raked over coals, But the truth's still untold.
As a marginalized writer, I express myself through unconventional means, and I aim to inspire others to unify and resist those who have oppressed us with lies.
Meaning lost to these zealots, Prefer bullets to ballots, Watch the rich sip from chalice, As these eyes fill with malice, Peasant hands remain callous as our days retain darkness, I swallow razor blades to keep my vocal cords sharpened.
Our society has become divided and polarized, with extremists preferring violent means over political solutions. The wealthy enjoy their luxurious lives while the poor suffer in darkness, and I strive to maintain my ability to speak up through the pain and danger.
Morbid mixture of mistrust and anger paints picture, Perception now blurred words slurred to form scripture.
My emotions of suspicion and hostility have influenced my perspective, and my words are becoming blurry and disjointed.
These sullen souls misinformed, Storm gates of stronghold, Strange fate that I chose, Morbid poet speak prose.
The people in our society are unhappy and misinformed, but I have decided to face this tough situation head-on by expressing my words and vision through my morbid but honest poetry.
Tattered voices arose, Red Blood written on scroll, Escapes throat an ill flow, For my violence atoned.
The damaged and wounded speak up, and my poetry is a bloody testament to my troubled past and actions.
Modest thoughts monotone, Infant MC's play grown, Found them hung in hallways from cords on microphones.
Many inexperienced rappers lack originality and authenticity, and those who try to put on a façade of toughness often meet a violent end.
Contributed by Christian T. Suggest a correction in the comments below.