Featuring MCs Qwazaar, Qwel, and Denizen Kane, producer DJ Natural and media assassin Kid Knish, Typical dropped a self-titled full-length album, Typical Cats, on Galapagos4 Records in 2002, and began a relentless campaign to restore a fallen hip hop world to its former promise and glory. The talent assembled was unmistakable, the sound created was formidable. Firmly planted in tradition, unorthodox in invention and possessed of a strength only earned in the furnace of experience, their sound is the future that hip hop's past would have had if its present weren't held hostage by the uninspired and unrepentant. A flurry of solo projects later, Chicago's prodigal sons return. Hip hoppers rejoice. Suckers duck and cover. Typical Cats come to conquer. Battle champs, hotline legends, poetry circuit kings. Typical cats released their second album titled Civil Service in 2004.
Typical Cats return, the last of the great true school crews—bearers of transformed tradition, innovators par excellence, and heralds of an undying devotion to the science and magic of boom bap music. The latest installment in the TC saga is 3, their third studio full-length. It plays like a message in a bottle from Hip Hop’s timeless present to the bizarre post-physical, digital, viral world in which we live. DJ Natural’s production chops have only deepened with time, and the rugged loops of the self-titled “Orange Album” and the live instrumentation of Civil Service have melded to yield a mélange of soul, jazz, funk, roots, radical politics, and a sly refusal to bend to the dictates of current fashion. Kid Knish reprises his role as hip hop’s all-time greatest unseen crew member (sorry, Jarobi), serving up samples, historical references, and vinyl oddities for Natural to slice and serve as android slabs of production genius.
TC’s trio of MCs—Qwel, Denizen Kane, and Qwazaar—rhyme like men breathing from the soles of their feet. The basis of their legend is in full effect—crackling chemistry, unnerving flow, and true stories. The album plays like a jazz-era cutting session turned confessional booth, a stylistically freewheeling effort threaded together by moments of revelation, underpinned by fiercely focused production and dominated by stories of journey, moments of transformation, and warnings against coming catastrophe. For TC, the MC is a misunderstood figure, a musical seer, a minor prophet, and reluctant hustler, using words to outwit enemies, trump circumstances, and emerge from the belly of the beast with respect and rent money.
Highlights abound—Kane returning to his spoken word roots on “Denizen Walks Away,” Qwel giving his early battle rap classics a run for their money on nickel-plated platters like “My Watch” and “Gordeon Knock,” and Qwazaar flexing uncanny musical intuition, anchoring the record with meditative efforts on “Puzzling Thing” and “Reflections from the Porch” before pummeling tracks like “Better Luck” and “On My Square.” Although the LP is studded with solo shots, crew tracks are the soul of the record. “On My Square” opens with a flurry of horns before exploding into an array of signature styles—multisyllabic combinations from Qwel, laid-back but incisive chatting from Kane, and a classic Qwa verse full of declarations, threats, and witticisms, all cemented by a Qwel chorus imbued with requisite layers of meaning. Natural’s production evolves with each verse, sliding from Meters style guitars with knocking drums to moody keys with ease.
The first single, “The Crown” is a frenetic display of jagged guitars and style-shifting that makes it a perfect complement to the Orange Album’s classic “Reinventing.” The name, however, is something of a misnomer. TC have never been interested in being kings. They’ve been griots shouting from the village limits, stoning the village idiots, interrupting thieves, and solidifying sterling reputations as rappers’ rappers, smokers’ smokers, underground Gs, tribal chiefs. There will never be another Typical Cats. They leave the set like five men exiting a burning building, leaving wrecked stages and a catalog of classics in their wake. With their exodus, we find ourselves suddenly grown, having come of age with the culture, standing, as always, at the crossroads. With the music, we move like Gayle Sayers, howl like Magic Sam, see the city like a kid on the project bench, and mark it all down in a black book that will never close. It is what it is. Forever.
QWAZAAR - A native of Chicago's gritty Low End, Qwazaar strikes from hip hop's essence. Whether the subject matter is inner city or interplanetary, the flow remains untouchable - a percussive yet fluid attack that evokes South Side rain and helicopter blades in a single breath. The content is heavy-a holdover from days when this veteran MC (No Pity/Outerlimitz) had to lyrically slay rivals to earn his sterling rep. "After the dust settles, witness the blood puddles..." Lights out, kids. The Q-W-A is here.
QWEL - You first saw his name dangling a quarter mile up on a suspension bridge from your scratch-bombed window on the Orange line. You first heard that distinctive melodic/abrasive storm of syllables on old Nacro and Scam Artist tapes with inserts printed at the Kinko's. Now the heat's been perfected and this nasty North Side revelation music rebel is out to wake the sleepers. From Ted Turner's devil ass to the so-called competition, everyone and their mama gets dealt with when the kid laces up his boots.
DENIZEN KANE - From the rum and Coke rumble of Chicago's North Side flow spots to the celluloid veneer of Def Poetry Jam's main stage, Denizen Kane rips the party with a poet's heart and an outsider's eye. Journalistic, impressionistic, real-life and drastic, young Kane's late night Red Line revelations turn into heathen hymns on tape, capturing the moody face of the metropolis in color. How long can a lost one roam until he finds his way home? Listen to your city fall apart through the muddy mouth of an immigrant.
Thin Red Line
Typical Cats Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
I shoot the gift on the radio station
88.5 WHPK was the only station that would fuck with rap
88.5 Chicago. On the radio station.
Takin' a train (repeat/fade)
The thin red line is the thin spine
I roll down the back of a city overgrown and overtaxed
Pockets bare and scatter, the skeletons of cultures with no rent control
Pattering feet of prostitutes and penny brown
Children trades glass glades sweet for someone to pay or to listen
I glisten like the question in the shorty's eyes
Sleeping in the train-car at the Lawrence stop when I get in
Making pillows out of bare arms while I'm posturing poems
But I can't name these eyes or the idea of less than home
Home be unfinished it that fate hasn't sown
In the skirt of an evening over mornings waste blown
I see the moon I see the go going by on stilts
As mouths wilt and turn blinded to girls' eyes
Fate's hands have holes, we hold hope by the collar
Color red the closed eyes shut tight on the dollar
Wills rock-heads to sleep, my eyes peal all the way
To memorize a sleeping girl's face and bring it to PK
Oh, shit I'm late I got a bus to make to take the 35th and State
Get on the Dan Ryan red line and head downtown
With head down experience life in surround sound
Rhythematic speech occurs when the crowd's around
Besides I'm still waiting on the train, plus I'm late already
And how the fuck am I gonna get downtown and back to WHPK
Man its already 8:40, too much thinkin'
I gotta keep this freestyle steady, now freestyles over things
Like this point to the fact that I'm sober
I need weed, yo fuck the mission to the record store
To put CD's on consignment just for fickle fans to not buy it,
I thought they liked violence but anyway skip downtown
I turn around I hear the train coming, head out now
Train stop, hop in the backseat like a fuckin' taxi
And I heard that DJ Nat be having fat sacs a weed
Get off and catch the 55th and Garfield to University
Hyde Park chill, I feel a dark chill when I hit the building
Here with the intention to kill it
Finally made it now where the hell is Qwel and Denizen?
Reasons run thin by the end of the line
But the signs can be read if you learn them in time
Reasons run thin by the end of the line
But the signs can be read if you learn them in time
Yo it's already Wednesday night, time for HPK's rap show
But waitin' on sacs yo makes me late
Fuck it gotta hit this open mic
Hopin' to leave stress at the rest so I can flow tonight
I grab my rhyme book and hit the elevator
Lighter square freestyle the tale I'ma tell later
Hike to the thin red line that's Sheridan
By the time my name dries waitin' for the train here it is
Amongst the chatter of workdays and old dreams
The thin red line holds me to window seats
The wind blows beats with sin don't sleep
But neither can I with open mics on my mind
My pen and pad describe 65-minute lifetimes
From Sheridan to Hyde Park provides spark tight lines
Who's these Typical Cats flexin' insane
"It's the Q-W-A", "Denizen Kane"
Good to see y'all cats late again some typical shit
For sure don't sweat it Denizen, yo it's cool that you made it in
Yo my bad Denizen I had to catch some medicine
Oh I feel the pharmacology, cats were just guessin' when
We three breath these free prophecies
Catch me settin' outer limits to these than HP
To MC's that hate me probably cause they take themselves too seriously
My fear is not being there you see to hear 'em speak
Fo sho you know these flea-bitten felines is found
And the loose tooth get left in the booth
That's my man Dan in a fine fickle fix of fellowship and fools frontin'
Fact remains Benneton ads on crack make you move something
Similar to Hi-Tek and Talib only at hi-speed, fools frontin'
But the fact remains they still won't do nothing
Who's bluffin', fuck that, I'm all concerned with whose cuttin'
Yo fuck who's cuttin', yo it's cool if you two dudes is puffin', huh skid?
Not to crush this fat rap oh shit check out this Typical Cat Nat scratch
The song "Thin Red Line" by Typical Cats paints a vivid picture of the city of Chicago through the eyes of a young rapper. The song starts with the singer discussing their experiences on the radio station 88.5 WHPK, the only station that plays rap music in Chicago. They then describe the "thin red line" that is the thin spine of the city, rolling down the back of a city that is overgrown and overtaxed. The singer observes the pockets of poverty and the culture of those who have no rent control. Prostitutes and penny browns are a familiar sight, and children trade glass glades for someone to pay or to listen.
The singer shares their experience sleeping in train cars and posturing poems, but they cannot name the eyes or the idea of less than home. They see the moon and cars go by on stilts, and mouths wilt and turn blinded to girls' eyes. The hands of fate have holes, and they hold hope by the collar. Finally, they make it to 55th and Garfield to University, where they hope to kill it and make their way to HPK's rap show.
The song is a commentary on poverty and the struggles of young rappers trying to make it in the music industry. It speaks to the importance of radio stations like 88.5 WHPK, which provides a platform for unknown artists to be heard. It also highlights the struggles of living in a city like Chicago, where poverty and crime are rampant.
Line by Line Meaning
88.5 Chicago. Yeah.
Acknowledging the radio station WHPK in Chicago that supports the genre of rap.
I shoot the gift on the radio station
Rapping on the radio station.
88.5 WHPK was the only station that would fuck with rap
The only radio station that aired rap music.
88.5 Chicago. On the radio station.
Emphasizing that the city of Chicago has a rap scene that is supported by the radio station.
Takin' a train (repeat/fade)
Boarding a train.
The thin red line is the thin spine
The train line is symbolic of the spine of the city.
I roll down the back of a city overgrown and overtaxed
Moving through a city that is crowded and struggling.
The wack stands of the rich pick a thin
The wealthy exploit and take advantage of the poor and vulnerable.
Pockets bare and scatter, the skeletons of cultures with no rent control
People of different cultures struggle to survive without proper housing.
Pattering feet of prostitutes and penny brown
Prostitutes and poor people roam the city streets.
Children trades glass glades sweet for someone to pay or to listen
Children beg for money or attention.
I glisten like the question in the shorty's eyes
The rapper is hopeful and optimistic even in the face of hardship.
Sleeping in the train-car at the Lawrence stop when I get in
The artist is homeless and sleeping on the train.
Making pillows out of bare arms while I'm posturing poems
Using his art to cope with homelessness and difficult living conditions.
But I can't name these eyes or the idea of less than home
The rapper recognizes the struggle of homelessness but cannot fully understand it.
Home be unfinished it that fate hasn't sown
Many people lack a proper home due to circumstances outside of their control.
In the skirt of an evening over mornings waste blown
The artist is describing the city at night and the discarded remains of the day.
I see the moon I see the go going by on stilts
Observing the city at night with tall buildings towering above.
As mouths wilt and turn blinded to girls' eyes
People are desensitized to the struggles of others and ignore those in need.
Fate's hands have holes, we hold hope by the collar
Fate is unpredictable and uncontrollable, but we hold onto hope despite this.
Color red the closed eyes shut tight on the dollar
The desire for wealth blinds people to the struggles of others.
Wills rock-heads to sleep, my eyes peal all the way
The artist is awake and aware of the struggles of the city while others remain ignorant.
To memorize a sleeping girl's face and bring it to PK
The artist remembers the faces of people he encounters in hopes of bringing their stories to the radio station.
Oh, shit I'm late I got a bus to make to take the 35th and State
The artist is rushing to catch a bus.
Get on the Dan Ryan red line and head downtown
Taking the train to the city center.
With head down experience life in surround sound
Experiencing the city and all its sounds.
Rhythematic speech occurs when the crowd's around
The artist's freestyle is influenced by the energy of the crowd.
Besides I'm still waiting on the train, plus I'm late already
Frustrated by the delay and his tardiness.
And how the fuck am I gonna get downtown and back to WHPK
Worrying about transportation and timing.
Man its already 8:40, too much thinkin'
Anxious about the time and lost in thought.
I gotta keep this freestyle steady, now freestyles over things
Focusing on maintaining the rhythm of the freestyle.
Like this point to the fact that I'm sober
The artist is not under the influence of drugs or alcohol.
I need weed, yo fuck the mission to the record store
Desiring marijuana over focusing on the music.
To put CD's on consignment just for fickle fans to not buy it,
Selling CDs in a record store on commission, but not expecting much profit.
I thought they liked violence but anyway skip downtown
Assuming that people prefer violent content in music but disregarding the city center.
I turn around I hear the train coming, head out now
Finally boarding the train.
Train stop, hop in the backseat like a fuckin' taxi
Riding the train and finding a seat.
And I heard that DJ Nat be having fat sacs a weed
Aware of a DJ who is rumored to have plenty of marijuana.
Get off and catch the 55th and Garfield to University
Departing the train and boarding another bus to reach the university.
Hyde Park chill, I feel a dark chill when I hit the building
Despite the relaxed atmosphere of the neighborhood, the artist still feels uneasy.
Here with the intention to kill it
Determined to perform and do well at the open mic.
Finally made it now where the hell is Qwel and Denizen?
Arriving at the open mic and searching for fellow artists.
Reasons run thin by the end of the line
As time passes, reasons for hope or optimism dwindle.
But the signs can be read if you learn them in time
Despite this, there are still possible signs of hope if you are aware enough to see them.
Yo it's already Wednesday night, time for HPK's rap show
Preparing for a radio show on WHPK.
But waitin' on sacs yo makes me late
Delayed by waiting for marijuana.
Fuck it gotta hit this open mic
Opting to perform at an open mic instead of prioritizing the radio show.
Hopin' to leave stress at the rest so I can flow tonight
Using music as a form of release and relaxation.
I grab my rhyme book and hit the elevator
Gathering his materials and heading to the radio station.
Lighter square freestyle the tale I'ma tell later
Preparing to freestyle on air.
Hike to the thin red line that's Sheridan
Walking to the train station at Sheridan.
By the time my name dries waitin' for the train here it is
Arriving at the train station just in time to board.
Amongst the chatter of workdays and old dreams
Listening to the conversations of other people on the train.
The thin red line holds me to window seats
Boarding and sitting by the window on the train.
The wind blows beats with sin don't sleep
The sounds and movements of the city are ever-present.
But neither can I with open mics on my mind
The artist is focused on performing.
My pen and pad describe 65-minute lifetimes
Writing about experiences and emotions in a condensed form of time.
From Sheridan to Hyde Park provides spark tight lines
Finding inspiration for rhymes during the train ride.
Who's these Typical Cats flexin' insane
Referring to his group, Typical Cats.
"It's the Q-W-A", "Denizen Kane"
Introducing himself and his fellow artists.
Good to see y'all cats late again some typical shit
Greeting his friends in a typical, casual manner.
For sure don't sweat it Denizen, yo it's cool that you made it in
Reassuring his friend and acknowledging his punctuality.
Yo my bad Denizen I had to catch some medicine
Apologizing for being late and explaining why he was delayed.
Oh I feel the pharmacology, cats were just guessin' when
Feeling the effects of the drugs he took earlier that delayed him.
We three breath these free prophecies
Discussing their music and the ideas it represents.
Catch me settin' outer limits to these than HP
Pushing the boundaries of their music and what is typically played on the radio.
To MC's that hate me probably cause they take themselves too seriously
Critiquing other artists who are too focused on their own egos and take themselves too seriously.
My fear is not being there you see to hear 'em speak
Concerned about missing out on other artists' music or public speaking engagements.
Fo sho you know these flea-bitten felines is found
Emphasizing the presence and importance of their group, Typical Cats.
And the loose tooth get left in the booth
Leaving inferior or weak artists behind.
Fact remains Benneton ads on crack make you move something
Highlighting the power of advertising and its influence on consumers.
Similar to Hi-Tek and Talib only at hi-speed, fools frontin'
Comparing their music to that of other popular artists and criticizing those who pretend to be something they are not.
But the fact remains they still won't do nothing
Despite their criticism, these artists will not actually take action or create meaningful change.
Who's bluffin', fuck that, I'm all concerned with whose cuttin'
Not concerned with false bravado, instead focused on who is producing the best music.
Yo fuck who's cuttin', yo it's cool if you two dudes is puffin', huh skid?
Not prioritizing competition or drama, instead relaxed and enjoying the moment with his friends.
Not to crush this fat rap oh shit check out this Typical Cat Nat scratch
Pausing the conversation to listen and appreciate the scratching of their DJ, Nat.
Reasons run thin by the end of the line
As time passes, reasons for hope or optimism dwindle.
But the signs can be read if you learn them in time
Despite this, there are still possible signs of hope if you are aware enough to see them.
Lyrics © OBO APRA/AMCOS
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind