Dilson - The Bachatú Intro | 2026 Tiny Desk Submission скачать в хорошем качестве

Dilson - The Bachatú Intro | 2026 Tiny Desk Submission

The Bachatú Intro is the opening number to my one-person show Bachatú. Starting with my parent's immigration story and ending with a self-reflective assessment of my personal flaws and aspirations, Bachatú explores my quest for self-identity and how that molded the person/artist that I am today. Vocals, Guitar, MPC - Dilson Videographer: Lil Hen ‪@thelifeofhen‬ Director: Aurelise Hernandez Edited by: Dilson Hernandez #tinydeskconcert #tinydesk #npr #guitar #mpc #rapper #hiphop Lyrics: They come undone Through memories But I’ll still find my sun Till mourning comes To set me free The curtain opens for the hopeless Masquerading pain on this stage, another opus The crowd focused on this poet Paint a blank canvas with a range of emotions The mic closens to the boastest. A silhouette of fame tames the waves of erosion Stemming from the rage from the bane of this ocean Rummage through the rain yet still remain goated My pen flowin when I go in Bleeding out my soul from the sole of my lowest The page annointed when I’m broken I let my mind roam to the poems of the chosen The true culprit of this dope shit Writing out prose with a rose that is woven Into my goals through the roles of this omen Filling up rows at these shows that I’ve spoken Bachatea Bachatero, Bachatu The one who turns the melting pot and cooks it to a stew Take a little Hip Hop, pour a little blues, sprinkle in a merengits, tres golpes with mangu Bachatea Bachatero, Bachatu. The one who turns the melting pot and cooks it to a stew Take a little Hip Hop, pour a little blues, sprinkle insecurities and I’m further from the truth. Live and direct, from the inner wall that’s been kept Stored yet performed through the bars that i've blessed I often forget the feeling of how awesome it gets Cause i'm stepping off that stage and i'm lost in regret If I didn't mess up that line, if I didn't played the wrong chord If I didn't sing it off-key, would I be feeling this bleak? What a perfectionist seeks, is validation and peace But should I blame it on yall or is it all cause of me? But i'm just tryna find the reason why I got this dying urge to be perfect. Keep in mind, that I wear a mask on a stage to be disguised Crack a couple jokes to cover up what's really deep inside People-pleasing guy, never seems to speak his mind Crack another smile but take a peek into his weary eyes I could see the lies reflected from the margin lines This weak facade is bound to leave an artist blind No dollar signs, but I'm still playing for keeps. Late at night working verses, having trouble with sleep Applying for jobs to funnel the cream The offspring of an immigrant’s American dream I mean, my parents found a way to get it out of the mud Just like the rappers in the Bronx that were moving on up My mother sees her brother’s passion in my musical love and I got the spirit of my ancestors raising up Feeding my soul but I’m losing control Over little mistakes, I contemplate And question if I have what it takes Was it the way I was raised? That got me feeling this way? Was it the man I portrayed? That led my ego astray? Is it the dad and mom? Is it my uncles and aunts? Is it the silence of God? That’s spawned this blurry mirage Who am I? They come undone Through memories But I’ll still find my sun Till mourning comes To set me free