Sinai

Hailing from Connecticut, a place nicknamed the “slept on state” a boy on a conquest to tell the ghost stories of his past emerges. From his walks in the stone cold street harbors of “Da Port” or Bridgeport, where blue-collar workers turn criminal and souls are lost and unconsciously roaming. But the tale of his journey would encompass more than the nooks and crannies of the corner store pharmacists, the violence of sirens bleeding through speakers vying for attention. The hustle of his red tape would be engraved on the door, from whence came the secrets of his pain; a life that mirrored the reflection of abuse, molestation, manipulation and rejection. His fatherless quest would bring him to a motherless breast where he wept, emotionally unfed. As he would say “family ties broke and I cried!” In a time where self-reflection is contrived and self mutilation and hip hop messages are the self help books on crack to those for whom they were written. His is a storyline rarely told in the ghettos of America, but more-overly common in the lives of its constituents than gang violence and hoop dreams being deflated. Walk the plank of the sleepy hollow while it howls in a pitch black night in eerie silence. Aboard the battleship at “Da Port” where his family lives, where his childhood was stripped, let this chaos depict; where he found God within him!
“I just wanna perform…and tell my story,” says Sinai. “Hopefully, as I find freedom from these chains that shackle me…people can also become free,” he continued. Facing his past demons in his closet and inner conflicts that haunt him still, he spits rapid-fire lyrical darts with aggression. One would think that he was possessed by a greater power the way he taps into his subconscious emotions. Lying naked in his own words on the stage, he bears it all, vulnerable as an eagle’s chest when its wings are spread; taking flight with his own soul, yet still in sight. He translates and conveys his story, while the audience watch’s in amazement. What marvelous stage presence. They can relate to his music. He moves the crowd with such passion derived from his urban-Latin descent and experiences. It’s his Hip-Hop culture where he finds therapy in his poems and strength and confidence in his palms. He holds the mic, and releases his anger through song, and then he’s calm; back to the normal him people expect, throws up his hand in victorious relief. Saying “peace,” one hand fading in the air and then he’s gone. Exiting his set, spent, with nothing left to give. This is he…

-Sinai