In Sweden, Timbuktu is the MC who even your grandparents have heard of. No, they probably aren't rocking his album at their Tuesday dance class, but they know he exists. And in a country where the generational divide seems to expand daily, this implies that Timbuktu's music, while uncompromising, in its willfully worldly, multi-cultural purview, is somehow entertaining enough to resonate amongst a people associated more with meatballs than, say, mic skills. Yet that selfsame music, though oft acclaimed, fares far worse when it attempts to educate and uplift, which is often its very intention. With that said, it would certainly seem understandable for Timbuktu to "dumb down" and double his dollars, like so many of his American counterparts. But such would be a fate inconceivable to the Swede MC. On the contrary, Timbuktu admirably assumes an unstated role as the lone voice of reason in the wilds of the Western hemisphere, and is ultimately willing to bear genius' inevitable burden, which is ridicule, if only to provide the faintest glimmer of hope through his music.