Philadelphia (or Philly as it is more aptly known). A forgotten, former U.S. capital city nestled somewhere between the nation’s current capital to it’s south, and the financial and cultural behemoth that is NYC to the north. A city more known for producing cheeseteaks and homicides rather than top tier rappers, Philadelphia has been cultivating something special for a great while. And out of the cracked paved streets of the city, a musical wildflower by the name of Black Thought has been secretly blossoming for well over a decade. Not one of the prettiest flowers in the hip hop wilderness or even the most complex , Black Thought’s lyrical prowess is almost unlike any other that I’ve ever heard. He represents a throwback, existing before the days of overextended metaphors or lyrics about what person designed your clothes. But like a simple white dress shirt, no matter the season nor the year, he never goes out of style. Together with his band, The Roots, he tours the world constantly and not at stadium-sized venues, but instead, shitty bars in no-name towns like Allentown, PA where the cost of a ticket is less than a 59FIFTY. All of this touring has garnered a well-sized international fan base and critical claim, but sadly, the domestic love has yet to pour out. So next time you’re in a record store (if you can find one) or on you’re file-sharing site of choice, stop looking up at hip hop redwoods like Jay-Z or Lil’ Wayne and look down at the lyrical wildflower that is Black Thought.