Conscious Afro-Caribbean rap over soca and rara drums, afrobeats in the big rooms, and deep 808 sub-bass. One single a month until the whole record is out.
Two turntables, one room, a circle that never closes. From a 1973 Bronx rec room to stages around the world: a love letter to the DJs, dancers and MCs who built the culture.
Track 9 on Caribbean Outlaw · out November 11 on every platform
Tell me when it dropsCaribbean Outlaw is thirteen tracks and one story. He arrives with a refusal, takes the road, and ends by telling the whole thing back as the island griot. Tracks go public one a month; the ones marked Coming are not out yet.
Who he is, where he is from, and what he refuses to sell.
Twenty on the table, a pen in his face, a contract to sign. The hook is the refusal: you can buy the record, you never bought the soul. Inspired by the record-shop and contract scenes in The Harder They Come (1972).
Queens first. The city he is from, before the islands his people are from.
A love letter to Haiti: red soil, mountain roads, city by city and plate by plate. Written to be sung back.
Rara drums leave the street and hit the water. The outlaw life at full celebration, with Kreyòl ad-libs.
Windows down, fists down, a fugitive crown, a storm, and love that has to survive the city.
Windows down, keys in hand, singing through every traffic light. Fuel low, not stopping. Every mile back home feels less alone.
A fugitive crown. Two shadows move when the sirens call, and the hook says if they chase one, they gotta chase two. Inspired by the chase scenes in Bad Boys (1995).
You can’t kiss with your fists up. A song about putting the guard down so love can come back in.
A New York love story: two people pulled apart by the city and the life around them, choosing each other anyway. A duet.
Two turntables, one room, a circle that never closes. From a 1973 Bronx rec room to stages around the world: a love letter to the DJs, dancers and MCs who built the culture.
Foot down through the thunder and the rain. Keeping your speed when the weather turns, with a female voice answering back. Inspired by the film Days of Thunder.
The thunder hits, the whole crew shows up, and the story is told back.
A Haitian Kreyòl rally cry, born from Haitian fotbal: the thunder hit, he is still standing, he does not break. Entirely in Kreyòl.
The title track. A duet with a choir, in English and Kreyòl, where “I’ma be your guide” turns into “we your wings tonight.”
The last word. MACHADO as the island griot and the Caribbean outlaw, telling the whole voyage back: island to island, after the histories nobody wrote down.
MACHADO is an outlaw griot out of Queens, New York. Haitian roots and Cuban blood. An island griot, past and present.
Kompa bounce underneath, soca and rara drums on top, afrobeats in the big rooms. Afro-Caribbean rap carries the story, and Haitian Kreyòl surfaces where the story calls for it.
Caribbean Outlaw is not a map of one island. It is an itinerary: the islands, the mainland, the mountains, the city streets, a harbor at night. An outlaw travels. A griot remembers.
The words, the story and the voice are MACHADO’s. The voice is enhanced with AI tools, and the music is made with AI tools. The cover art, stills and video are made with AI tools too, and put together by hand.
Every release is declared as AI-made when it is delivered to streaming services, and any service that shows AI credits will show them.
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MACHADO