Album review: Brother Ali’s back with hard-hitting themes for a better tomorrow

The MC and activist releases his sixth long-player at a time of divisive turmoil in the US – so expect All the Beauty in This Whole Life to be heavy-going.

Album cover of All The Beauty in This Whole Life by Brother Ali.

All the Beauty in This Whole Life

Brother Ali

(Rhymesayers)

Four-and-a-half stars

After a five-year break from albums, Brother Ali has certainly chosen an interesting juncture to jump back onto the mic.

The MC and activist releases his sixth long-player at a time of divisive turmoil in the United States, so you might expect All the Beauty in This Whole Life to be heavy-going. In fact, Ali has clearly decided that what his nation needs right now is a feel-good concept album. As usual, he makes a strong point.

The Minneapolis-born rapper is a fascinating character: born with albinism and legally blind, he converted to Islam at 15, initially with rap’s influence.

"When I was 13, I met KRS," he explains on the album's spiky, scene-setting opener, Pen to Paper, "he put me on the stage, suggested I read up on Malcolm X".

Ali has followed a path of spiritual, lyrical and, sometimes, active resistance ever since and there are still some hard-hitting themes here.

His hiatus was chiefly for spiritual reflection and led to a radical conclusion: that to counter a fearful, divisive culture, embracing love and beauty is the way forward. This record is a soundtrack for that mission, and much of the credit goes to his regular collaborator, Ant, from the rap duo Atmosphere. He produced all 15 tracks and creates an ambitiously upbeat mood throughout. Rather than Public Enemy-style military- beat polemics – Chuck D was another of Ali’s early heroes – it recalls the jazzy breaks of 1980s block parties, but peppered with electronic twists and powerful spoken-word interludes.

Uplifting piano is the prime mover. Can't Take That Away recalls the sample-heavy jams of Jurassic 5, while Ali croons the chorus to the catchy We Got This: "love, should you ever call my name, you know that I feel the same."

That could be a radio hit, if not for darker verses: “police shoot my nephews in the street like its normal”.

When he does tackle weighty issues here, it is with understanding rather than anger. On Dear Black Son, Ali suggests that trembling, trigger-happy police "don't see a sweet kid who loves his little sister, they see 500 years of pictures". Pray for Me is a wry, philosophical take on living with albinism – he then closes with the hopeful title track, an aspiration to "let your light penetrate me 'til my heart is trustful", and a final, euphoric flurry of keys.

We could all take a lesson from Brother Ali.