Madchild – Pressure/Like A Tech is one of the most underrated and under appreciated Canadian rap singles of 1994. The single is filled with rugged rap sweetness, dopeness, and brehsiveness. One side of the single is filled with rap sweetness and the other side is filled with dopeness. The fact that this single hardly received any coverage is a misdemeanor. This is jazz rap with an East Coast sound and Canadian pariah.
Madchild raps about how he can’t handle the pressure due to a mental block preventing him from rhyming on the song aptly titled Pressure. A rapper not being able to rhyme is a crime. This is real lyrical rap with advanced vocabulary over a jazzy soundscape.
His brain is on the fritz. He is at his wits. Now he can rhyme one line, but can’t find another that fits in. There are too many pieces to the puzzle. Maybe he should buy some alcohol to dry his sorrows and borrow some inspiration. He believes he can find some inspiration from alcohol in these lyrics: “Maybe I should buy some alcohol so I can guzzle it down/To dry my sorrows and borrow some inspiration/I’m feeling total devastation. This is horrible, it’s fucking terrible/I can’t get one done, no fun, it’s unbearable”
Madchild is sitting on the floor bored out of his skull. He is getting duller due to the pressure. But he must maintain his train of thinking. Who were you to say what he is doing wrong with his song? He was about to rip, but lost the thought. It’s like a ball of confusion. Another dimension with no direction beyond comprehension. Madchild is too high-strung. He can’t stand the pressure due to a mental block.
Madchild finds himself falling deep into depression. About to blow a fuse. He could use some suggestions. Questions dangle as he strangles his binder. Kind of like war digging deep into his core. For more creativity, he decides to smoke cigarettes. He thinks that smoking cigarettes will calm his nerves. Not forgotten, He stands firm while shaking ground. Jotting down every thought. While despite being stuck in a bad situation. Nothing comes out. There is no doubt his mind is broken.
You might have heard worse but he is cursing and cussing. There’s not enough action because there’s too many distractions. Constipation of the dome is the cause and is certainly the problem. Feel the pressure.
Madchild raps like an automatic tech in a such an advanced lyrical style on Like a Tech. He starts blastin’ rhymes out of his mouth cause because he is a rapping assassin. This is real lyrical rap with advanced vocabulary over a jazzy soundscape. Ride the rugged rhythm like a Harley. Oh whats the flavor? Alright here’s a little taste.
Madchild is like an automatic when it’s static. He starts blastin’ rhymes out of his mouth cause because he is a rapping assassin. Passing as he picks up the pace like a race. And he must kick up dust so he can hold his own place. It’s pathetic. He’s not even athletic. But he’s runnin’ laps around you, son.
Kids trip and stumble when they hear him rumble on the mic. He never mumbles like a bumble bee. I must confess that his acapella is hella fresh. To battle is a cinch as he makes an MC flinch. So sit back and relax while he wrecks these tracks. He gets the message across like a fax. Madchild will crush you like a bus gettin hit by thirty taggers. Don’t sleep.
It’s the Madchild. The opposite of soft. Strong like King Kong but not about to fall off. He is vicious when the microphone’s in his clutch. Asses get Chucked like Norris. He’s meaner than a pitbull when he steps on to the scene. This is just an example of when the Madchild speaks.
I rate this single 5/5*****!!