Released on June 6, 2025,
via City Slang.
If there’s a rapper who truly belongs to the literate, jazzy, artsy side of the genre, it’s McKinley Dixon. Regularly praised by critics, he naturally tackles the great subject – the one at the heart of all US rap, really: the African-American condition, experienced through his own self. In 2023, with Beloved! Paradise! Jazz!?, he drew his inspiration from the work of writer Toni Morrison. He looks conspicuously toward jazz, and he is sheltered by City Slang, the European indie rock label. And his album from last year, on which all the heroes of this rap vein lend their support (Quelle Chris, Ghais Guevara, ICECOLDBISHOP, Pink Siifu, Blu…), handles the concept without beating around the bush.
Magic, Alive! is his first album since “Run, Run, Run,” the track that broadened his audience through its placement in an advertisement and a video game (and it includes a sequel, “Run, Run, Run Pt. II”). Yet we remain at the opposite end of the spectrum from assembly-line rap and conveyor-belt trap. Through the sometimes opaque lyrics of this fifth record, a story takes shape. Drawn to the novel and to cinema, the rapper tells us of three kids who turn to magic to bring back to life a dead friend – likely a casualty of their petty dealing – only to discover that the returned is now a different person, one who can himself summon the dead back.
McKinley Dixon is art. This rapper from Richmond (now based in Chicago) writes like a novelist, weaving in themes of childhood and family legacy with a deft touch. His raps are laced with hypertext: references to his own back catalogue, to African-American history, to mythology, and whatever else. He reflects on his artistic journey, on this writer’s and storyteller’s magic, capable of bringing people to life. As for his compositions, they are filled with real instruments whose richness, wanderings, and digressions owe everything to jazz.
This is a total work – sophisti-rap of intense musicality and complete diversity. The gorgeous vocals of Anjimile on “Sugar Water” give way to the chaotic “Crooked Stick,” the near-solo saxophone of “We’re Outside, Rejoice!,” the brutal jazz of the splendid “F.F.O.L.,” the ecstatic “Magic, Alive!,” and the lovely neo-soul of “Could’ve Been Different.” Within a single track, “Recitatif,” two movements unfold: one delicate, with flute, harp, and piano; the other furious, battering us with synths, percussion, and the demonic voice of Teller Bank$. And in the middle of another track thick with choral voices, “Listen Gentle,” a symphonic instrumental breaks through.
It’s too much, of course. It stumbles, and it misfires at times. But across a substantial stretch of the album, it is quite magnificent. With Magic, Alive!, McKinley Dixon breathes some color and life back into that long-dormant “conscious” jazz rap. And that, yes, is a little magical.
