Instead, he shifts much of his focus away from books and toward himself, spinning a slowly emerging, autobiographical narrative beginning with his early years as a “young, white, Canadian wannabe G” (or gangster) from “the safest of Canadian streets,” to his struggle as an adult to resolve his career with dating and relationships.
He also recounts how he met his talented DJ and eventual roommate, Jaime Simmonds, who provides a steady flow of style and groove on the turntables.
When Simmonds takes five and the music stops, Brinkman’s rhythm persists in casually spoken but eloquent lines that only hint at lyrical cadence.
This appealing style of conversational speech with subtle tinges of rap and poetry is one of the things that makes “Ingenious Nature” more than just a rap performance, though it doesn’t quite add up to a human drama.
Brinkman has forged a worthy theatrical method in his music, but this autobiographical piece doesn’t reveal very much about its subject, aside from the fact that he has a sharp intellect and uncommon way with rhymes.
Maybe that’s enough.