The sophomore release from Christchurch’s finest scrivener (*Malo Luafutu* to his aunties) is bound to take New Zealand hip hop to the world stage. The rhymes he drops are effortless and poetic, the beats melodic, varied and masterfully produced. His debut album The Crusader went platinum in his home country within days and has since gone five times platinum there. A family man with firm religious beliefs and a finely tuned social conscience, he doesn’t shy away from the artist’s role to educate and puts forward his views on everything from war to climate change. In fact, he would have been an ideal guest on Katalyst’s revered masterpiece of this year What’s Happening.

You’re bound to know his flow: “How many dudes you know roll like this? How many dudes you know flow like this? Not many, if any…” (Or perhaps you sang along, “Not many, Aunt Fenny…” like this reviewer did until corrected by a neighbour in the crowd at one of his gigs). Not Many – The Remix (featuring Savage of Deceptikonz and Con Psy of Frontline) was on high Triple J rotation back in 2004 and there are many more thumping offerings bound to devastate the airwaves on his latest long player. You could almost rap the chorus of Not Many over My Shit from Rhyme Book as it has similar deadly beats, an ominous undertone and gangsta-style self-promotion – “Aint nobody in the world that could flow like this”, “Australia loving my shit like them Hilltop Hoods”. It’s one of those tracks you could imagine coming from a pimped-up ride bouncing along the drag like the singing car from Outkast’s Morris Brown video.

On first listen, the opening track Jeremiah 1 could be Kanye West at his finest. It features subtle brass to elevate Scribe’s innovative delivery and sets the tone for this impressive release – “I’ve got B-boys for feet, spray cans for hands/ Got a microphone mouth, yeah! You know who I am: I’m hip hop”. Lively piano progressions and sparse beats underscore Don’t Look Back – an autobiographical piece that gives us an insight into Scribe’s script and where his passions lie. He’s generous with the information he shares about his upbringing, but the tone of the music remains light to contrast heavier subject matter. Listing his accomplishments – “Australia went gold, that’s thirty-five thousand sold/ at twenty-five years-old I’d just succeeded my goals”- he’s come a long way, but now his sights are set on world domination.

Champion kicks off like the soundtrack to a fast-paced Brazillian carnivale before switching tactic to invade your ears with the force of a haka performed by the All Blacks rugby team. A softer offering, A.W.O.L has Scribe describing the solitary nature of song writing. Instrumentation is varied from track to track; shoegaze guitar accompanies A.W.O.L, a harp can be heard caressing the title track and chipmunk-style background vocals call to mind Michael Jackson when he was black in both Let Me Ride (about riding ‘shotgun’ in your car with your girl, get your mind outta the gutter!) and Babygirl (expressing devotion to his daughter). Scribe’s flow suits the aforementioned touching declarations of love as well as aggressive shout-outs like Champion and Put Your Hand Up. The latter tune seems to be influenced by Mark B & Blade’s Ya Don’t See The Signs (“Stand up and watch a professional rapper rhyme”). The rhythms and recurring theme of self-aggrandisement are common to both these tracks.

Scribe’s follow-up album gets better with every listen and has a distinctive antipodean flavour to keep it real -“I rock like Bon Scott in AccaDacca” (in Put Your Hand Up). Tyra Hammond’s diva-worthy vocal contributions are resplendent on Say It Again and perfectly complement Scribe’s words and the sassy brass backing. Lyrics are borrowed from the past in this one – “Tick-tock you don’t stop” – Ring a bell? Color Me Bad’s I Wanna Sex You Up. Scribe also collaborates with his recent touring buddy Talib Kweli on Be Alright – he must be a believer.

One thing’s for sure, this shit is F.R.E.S.H – the first single lifted from this album don’t lie! It’s sure to devastate dancefloors with crunking mayhem. You get a sense that a whole lotta hard work and dedication are behind Scribe’s accelerated progress and success – “I gotta do this for my daughter and my little man so understand – you can’t fuck with the scribble man!” Scribe is ready to take on the hip hop heavyweights. “S.C.R.I.B.E” – no need to spell it out, it’s plain to see… this is some dope shit and the world will learn to spell it right.