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Much can be said about the California-based MC, label jefé and alternative hip-hop juggernaut they call Nocando. You can wax all day about Hellfyre Club, about being the voice behind seminal L.A happening Low End Theory. You can throw him into a melting pot of new hip-hop, mesh him with GLK, FlyLo, Busdriver, Daddy Kev and anyone and everyone that's making experimentations in what has become a tired form.

If I were some buzz band loving, 'all about the people pleasing, numbers watching' kind of journalist, I'd be inclined to make this the focus, but that would be doing this album one hell of a disservice.

Nocando's sophomore album, Jimmy The Burnout, was released worldwide yesterday (at the time of writing) - a joint release via his own Hellfyre Club imprint and Alpha Pup. The record marks a change, a move and a shift, yet it still finds him clutching that same anger and using words in a way few MCs can even fucking comprehend, let alone utilise. Part everyman hustler flow, part streetwise poet, Nocando omits abstract and overly complicated vocalisations, preferring instead to speak true, with zero fear.

The skittering percussion and ominous synths lock lips with rhymes about concealed weapons and the Maury Povich show on 'Little Green Monsters' - the refrain of "it is what it is" haunting you, pulling you in whilst inviting you to step away from what's happening.

'Never Looked Better' is a club jam for people who don't go to clubs. The cowbells will dominate your senses, with Nocan's flow littering the spaces between - deftly explaining cliches are in fact, rarely wrong. A post millennial hip-hop loveless compression of a man lost in love.

The piano riff sampled on 'Break Even' is the first nod to his previous work. There's an unease to it even though it's a singalong kind of track, and a pretty great example of what Nocando achieves with this LP; he invites you in, whilst simultaneously making you feel like an alien looking into his imaginarium.

The warped, droning synths and post Dirty South-esque-through-a-blender beat of 'Too Much To Ask' nestled amidst another crowd pleasing chorus make this the bastard love child of Usher, Gang Starr and even Prefuse 73; a bizarre mixture that works perfectly. 'Any Day Now" is full of jazz-infused samples, lounge beats and a vocal that's gentler, yet still vitally angst ridden, with Nocando cleverly speaking out against things that matter, rather than the standard clichés. It's a mutated version of a long lost ATCQ joint, mixed by a sleep deprived Talib Kweli, if such a track existed.

'Hellfyre Club Anthem' starts with a swirling, almost easy listening string lullaby before exploding into a heavyweight punch of a tirade against celebrity bullshit. This is Nocando at his lyrical best: all truth, no filler. The break pulls you back from the torrent of rapid fury before plunging you back into Nocan's storm. You can't escape it. Same as those guys couldn't escape the Driller Killer.

The album ends with the near nine minute electro-hop-meets-G-funk 'Lucid Dream'. Shuffling 808 sounds jostle for position against a grunting bass and high ends that seem to glisten like broken glass, and cuts just as deep. This is the perfect end to an album that will rattle relentlessly inside your head. You'll feel cleansed by it, yet you know you'll be straight back to the start almost immediately.