Sach

Sach

 Austin, Texas, USA
BandHip Hop

I make rap music for people that hate rap music. Hip-hop music with rock'n'roll energy and more substance than your average radio-rapper. Uptempo, emotional, eclectic, and original music from a hard-working artist who's background is a mash-up of various musical styles and experiences.

Biography

“Sach is a musical bomb with an emotional core.” A member of the Austin, TX based hip-hop collective “The Smoke Jumpers”, the artist releases his first solo effort, Stranger Things Have Happened. Nine tracks of up-tempo hip-hop infused with a hefty dose of social psychology and inner-reflection. An MC/Producer with more to talk about than cars, money, and guns, Sach waxes poetic over original, compelling beats that reflect a wide range of musical influences. Sach has taken a do-it-yourself, “garage-rap” approach to releasing his solo effort, with all tracks written, produced, and mixed by the artist himself. Tracks such as the highly-energetic, infectious “Opposable Thumbs” and the distorted, sing-song stylings of “DreamSickle” reflect the artist’s struggle to accept the world, and his self, for all their faults, while searching the clouds of smoke for the silver lining. Tracks like “5 Dollar Coffee” come across as off-the-cuff ramblings on the so-called negative catalysts of a society always at war with itself. A little anger, frustration, vision, humor, and hope all folded together into sound origami. With the self-proclaimed “random thoughts” style, a little bit of everything comes together on this refreshingly original release. Lyrical influences ranging from pioneers such as The D.O.C., Beastie Boys, and The Wu-Tang Clan, to modern so-called “emo-rappers” like Slug (Atmosphere) and Lupe Fiasco, while also having a musical kinship to rock acts like 311 and Linkin Park. A truly eclectic mix, Sach has created a sound purely his own. It’s easy to tell that Sach has some things on his mind that he knows others ponder as well. Sach once said, “I came to the fork in the road, and went straight.” It couldn’t be said much better. If one path led to “Popular Rap” and the other to “Underground Hip-Hop”, Sach seems to have decided that it would be just as easy to make a new path of his own…

Lyrics

5 Dollar Coffee (My Fault?)

Written By: Sach

5 Dollar Coffee (My Fault)

Well now, you’re preaching to the choir.
And I’m runnin’ round with my head on fire.
Video vampire, plugged into wires.
And I’m trying to sell my soul if I can find a buyer.

I blame it all on candy cigarettes, skinemax, alcohol, and standardized tests, divorce rates, TV-dinner plates, computer dates, religions of hate, and all the red and blue states. I blame it all on anybody else, movie violence, marijuana, over-priced self-help, video games, tabloid names, digital frames, and those that don’t signal when changing lanes. I blame it on “the man” and “they”. I blame it on the night and day. I blame it on Eve and Cain. And I’ll blame it on the goddamned rain. I blame it on the people that taught me. I blame it on the bullies who fought me. I blame it on the friends who forgot me. I blame it on the five-dollar coffee. Blame the high price of gas. Blame the way she shakes that ass. Blame the half-empty glass. Blame the way time moves so fast. Blame it on the rich and bums. Blame it on the hills and slums. Blame it on control of guns. And you’re trying to tell me that there’s something wrong?

Chorus

I blame global warming. I blame the weatherman, ‘cause outside it’s storming. Just give me a direction to go in, on who to blame ‘cause I have to work in the morning. I blame the lack of nuclear familes. The lack of good groups winning Grammy’s. I blame the medical community. And I’m gonna blame anything that’s new to me. I blame it on the rows of gravestones. Blame it on the town I came from. Blame it on the dog, and play dumb. I blame it on the cellular phone. I could blame the girls I lost, or I could blame my asshole boss, or just blame it on the next hit song. And you’re trying to tell me that there’s something wrong?

Chorus

Well it’s the crooked cops. The crack-rock that destroyed your block. The ill gains that slavery bought, and a machine that wants to read your thoughts. I blame unseen forces, John Doe toe-tag corpses. I blame how difficult the course is. I blame the voices. I blame aliens, ghosts, psychics, and monsters. Identical-twin imposters. I blame the laws of gravity. I blame candy for giving me cavities. Blame loud for deaf. Blame proud for death. Blame stuff for theft, and blame right for left. I blame Smoke for fire. I blame the whole world for making me a liar. I blame the evil empire, and I blame pornography for desire. Blame oil companies and conglomerates. My general lack of astonishment. Blame this microphone ‘cause I’m bombing it. And you’re trying to tell me that there’s something wrong with it?

Chorus

It’s not my fault.
It’s not your fault.
It’s not our fault.
Who’s fault is it?

Opposable Thumbs

Written By: Sach

Opposable Thumbs

One is the loneliest number of all, and the king of the mountain who’s destined to fall.
The beginning of the end for those with short straws, and the ace in the hole when you’re stalled to a crawl.
Two it takes to make things go right. Make a bed go bump in the night. One too many to trust with your life, and just the right number to start up a fight.
Three is a crowd and company. The number of this rock that’s under me. Time’s the charm, on the count of destiny. A hat-trick is not yet the best of me.
Four-letter words, elements, seasons. The chambers of my heart still beatin’. The wheels on the road to reason. Those who oppose the thumb and reach in…

I was at the end of my rope. The water too deep, and I can’t float. Had to quit running from the truth to cope. And all this screaming’s cotton-mouthed my throat. (Help me) I was just a flea. On the back of this world trying to shake me free. ICU as who I can’t be. It’s hard enough just trying to be me. See? I didn’t ask to do it, but I had to. Get up under your skin like a tattoo. Lay down the law like your dad’s do. And pump the sound electric on the avenue. Well, I’ve got good friends, and I’m on a quest to make them ends. I stop time when the record spins. Well My Name Ain’t Earl, but I’ll repair them sins. Then cross you off the list. Wander the land like Caine with a gangster limp. Don’t want to drink the fountain dry, I just need a sip. ‘Cause it’s so hard to get what fits.

Chorus

This is straight, no chasers. With a purpose to the point, like lasers. They keep pushing it, until it don’t faze us. Then they make it disappear like erasers. So, blow that dust. When they say I can’t, I must. We’ll remove and paint that rust. Back in the saddle, and pop that clutch. Well that Dutch, was full of something. That made the club’s music sound more bumpin’. Not learned skills, just built to function. If I know Sach, he’ll stop at nothing.

Chorus

Well, I’m just like you. I’m nobody new. I do what I do. You do what you do. Get down with a few with the same point of view. Come on through. So loud on the southern front and, it drew a crowd when they heard him coming. And when we count down to something, are we really counting down to nothing. I don’t know…

Chorus

DreamSickle

Written By: Sach

DreamSickle

Oh god, the air is thick. I’m losing breath. I’m losing ground again. I’m lost in time. I’m lost in space. Confused by all the crazy things that they say. Where there’s Smoke, there must be fire. Well, I’m gonna test the theory out. I’ll burn my whole damn life from both ends…

Well, Hi. My name is Sach. I’ll just sit in the back. I’ll just take me some notes, and we’ll be done with that. I’m just here to observe, and comment on what occurs. They say, “It’s the tip of the berg…” Well don’t let ‘em rattle your nerves. With tales of sky falling, and strangers eye-balling. When aliens come calling, we’ll greet ‘em with the, “Yes, yes ya’ll”–ing. I smoke even though it kills me. Make music even if you don’t feel me. And I’m afraid if I fall apart, not even God could rebuild me. I’m simply 1’s and 0’s, in a room with villains and heroes. You can blow smoke if you want to. I’ll just Jump through it. I’m the dictionary’s illegitimate son. Who wrote a soundtrack to your life, run out and get one. The immovable object met the irresistible force. And they both decided they didn’t exist, while sitting on the front porch.

We’ll talk it out. We’ll make this right. If we have to sit here all night. I’m high as fuck. You’re drunk as hell. And we’ve got lots of stories to tell. It’s times like these I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad I’ve got the sense to fear the consequences of the substance, fabric. And my hands are burned ‘cause I’ve just got to have it.

Well, it’s a funny thing for me to walk around all day with my head in the clouds, humming a tune to myself. There’s nooone else. I straighten my cap, I tighten my laces, and loosen my belt. Stop and take a breather. You can’t stop the seether. From heater to freezer. I’m in the air like ether. Some thoughts have a certain sound. Some don’t. Some neither. Or is it business as usual? One woman gives birth. Across town, there’s a funeral. It’s just unusual in concept. I put my hands over my eyes. Are they gone yet? I’m back to surface, with no special purpose, other than to save the world. And there’s not as many phone-booths as there used to be. Nothing is news to me. I guarantee you ain’t used to me. Guns don’t kill people. People kill people. And therein lies the problem. And there’s guys sitting in a room right now trying to figure it out, and for this un-accomplishable task, I applaud them. It’s written in a book somewhere that only humans cry when humans die laughing. I’m bugged out on caffeine. Wide awake, wondering through a bad dream, but this is life and I’m happy.

Chorus 1

Crush ft. WildCard

Written By: Sach/WildCard

Crush (ft WildCard)

Crush me underfoot like nothing.
That’s just something not becoming.
Welcome to the jungle, hunting.
Catch me high as a kite and humming.
Da, da, da…

This is it, and I love it. Spread my antennae to bug out the public. Get so close to truth and touch it. Nice place to visit. Just change the subject. Like, “Damn this Texas weather…” And by the way, I’m gonna live forever. My flowchart’s telling me to leave, and I better, because this horse is dead, and it’s only gonna get deader. Sach. I’m Wild like Card’s “State of Mind”. I’ll create a rhyme cleaner than betadine. To explain the times. 7 that ate the 9. Read life’s bumps for the blind, and translate the shine. I’m a son of a gun, gun of a son. My mouth is automatic and miuzi it weighs a ton. Cause now I am almost done with the garage-built monster that I’ve become.

Crush me underfeet like nothing.
Touch me thunder, speak discussion.
Catch me high as a kite and hummin’.
Started hard off the block and runnin’.

Try to break, beat the clock and stop. Gangster pause with the bars on top. Shock my passion, heart still beating. The rush in season. The crush be the reason. Second to none, and the tongue still bleedin’. Underground, under none, but the blessed sun. Wreckage one. Run with the darts as sharp as nails. A grip on shit just to tip the scales. Spit it from the tip, now the verse is nailed. Hail from that Texas section most. You could try all day but you don’t come close. Pry this mic from my cold, dead hand. Try to move feet standing firm on land. Try to eat well when checks on skip. I’m gonna keep on crushin’, cuz life is a bitch.

And he exists in the smoke for a reason. To filter out the air that he’s breathing. To live life like it’s the weekend, and for dramatic effect when he’s speaking. Soundbending through the ocean, of people gathering to stir up a commotion. To welcome you to the tune you’ve chosen. To slide in the side door when it’s closing. Pull up the world by it’s roots. Fingers full of turf. Shake dirt. Cut ‘em loose. Rush the stage like Ol’ Dirty in a new suit. This one here’s for the children and the truth. So let the fists fly for the punchline. From here to ordinary. Dive into crunch-time. Natural predator, who’ll starve in the lunch-line. Out of the way, ‘cause you’re blocking my sunshine.

Chorus

Discography

Sach - "Stranger Things Have Happened"; The Smoke Jumpers - "Vol. 1 and Vol. 2 Mixtapes"; Dubb Sicks - "Music for Assholes II" (Track 1 "Electric Highways"); SmokeJumpersTexasDotCom - "Inside/Outside Digital 12inch"; WildCard - "Texas State of Mind" (Track 10 "Last Supper ft. Dubb Sicks")

Set List

Set list can span anywhere from 15 minutes to over an hour. No covers, only original compositions.