Mike-E

Though Michael Ellis, or Mike-E as he calls himself, would prefer not be categorized as a rapper, it's hard to not place his music firmly in the hip-hop realm given his quick, spoken delivery over rhythm-heavy production. Not that Mike-E isn't aware of what he's doing on his album, AfroFlow, he's just very concerned with distancing himself from the stereotypes of the genre, and more interested in showing how much of today's music stems out of Africa, moving from the chant-like "Warrior's Rhythm" to the reggae-inspired "Aleho (U Luvin' Me)" to the light Afro-pop beat of "Ethiopia (Everything Will Be Alright)." In fact, he focuses most of the second half of the album on Africa (and more specifically, Ethiopia, where he was born and spent the first three years of his life), his hope for its future, his irritation on how the continent is portrayed in the media ("'Cause all that they show you is starving and misery/Nobody bothers with all of our history/Lessons and blessings/It's not all depressing," he spits in "Call Us by Name"), his connectedness to it. It's all positive stuff, intent on telling a story, spreading a message, but Mike-E is able to avoid some of the preachy, self-righteousness that many other conscious rappers have thanks to his straightforwardness and his general avoidance of the typical braggadocio so much associated with hip-hop. Not that Mike-E's insecure in his rhymes and his ideas, but his objective is to discuss social problems as well as to teach and show off his talent, and so arrogance is hedged by a true concern about violence and inner-city struggles and racism and the public's general ignorance (he even samples a line from Sidney Poitier). Yes, AfroFlow has its stumbles -- Mike-E's flow is sometimes a little too singsongy, and the occasional holier-than-thou slips can be a little frustrating -- but what comes through more clearly is his genuine love of music and the passion behind the words he's saying. It's both an embracement of the art form and a call for it to take a serious look at itself, something shown best in the album's spoken word closer, "No More Liquor," in which, over slow, mournful humming, Mike-E vows to break free from rap's confines. "I don't want to rise or die, why?/When did we become people with such limited choices?" he asks. It's a call for progress, for strength, for hope, it's hip-hop and poetry and just plain humanity, and if we're lucky, just one of many steps in this direction. ~ Marisa Brown, All Music Guide