The Crash Landing….
WHERE AM I?
The first sensation is the smell of wet earth and ozone. Iamthegenius awakens in the center of a newly formed crater, the metal skeleton of his vessel twisted around him like a dead mechanical flower. He has no name, no memory, only a profound, aching void where a universe of knowledge used to be. A single, smooth, obsidian pendant hangs around his neck, cold to the touch....

HURRICANE

 SEASON


(2025)




PLAY TO START



IN THE RAINS OF
 HURRICANE SEASON. 


[COLLECTABLE VERSION // 99 AVAILABLE]

By the time the KISS 6 Tour rolled into Miami, I was running on fumes. Total burnout.

Miami has always been a "main character" in my life—a city with a pulse that matches my own. I remember a brief three-month lease I had on North Bay Village; honestly, those were some of the best days of my life. We had rented this massive mansion right on the water and turned it into a makeshift music retreat. Producers were flying in and out like a revolving door, everyone catching vibes and cooking up projects in every room.

Fast forward four years, and there we were, staring down an almost sold-out crowd in Fort Lauderdale.

The Miami-area crowd is different—they don’t just give you their energy; you have to earn it. To make things more chaotic, we had been partying since the sun came up, leading right into stage time. But when the lights hit, we gave them everything we had left in the tank. We pulled it off.

The tour itinerary called for a two-day break in Panama City Beach. As the crew started loading onto the bus, my manager Justin and I looked at each other. There was no way we were wasting our off days in PCB when Miami was right there.

We watched the tour bus pull away into the night, staying behind to check into a condo hotel in downtown Fort Lauderdale. We needed to recover, but for us, "recovery" usually means making more music.

We had been lugging a mobile studio across the country, so we set it up right there in the suite. I hit up my homie Dream Billz. He’s one of my favorite producers—we’re both Jamaican, so he inherently understands the "roots" of my sound without me having to explain a thing.
Me: "Yo, you around?"Dream: "Bet. I’m on the way."

It’s about a 45-minute trek from Miami. When Dream pulled up, he didn't even say hello before he started playing a beat. He told me he’d literally cooked it up in the Uber on his way to the hotel.
Outside, the sky was heavy. It had been raining relentlessly all day and night, a gray contrast to the neon lights of the city. I looked at the window and asked Dream, "Man, why is the weather like this right now?"

He didn't even look up. He just said, "It’s hurricane season."

I sat back and listened to the track. Hurricane season. It was the perfect description for my 2025. Chaotic, intense, and loud—but there's always a calm waiting on the other side.


MIAMI , 2025



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