For better or worse, the tag "alternative rap" comes with many connotations: this rap subverts mainstream politics; this rap has a message; this rap is different; this is #RealHipHop. It’s often a distinction used by rap elitists and purists to separate rap with a supposed intellectual bent from the rap they consider low brow or obtuse. It can be an ugly, divisive term, one that stands at the center of rap’s greatest schism; it has been a defining label in many rap class wars.

But sometimes the term categorizes rap acts that truly exist on the fringes of the genre, acts that stretch the boundaries of how rap can sound with progressive and daring compositions. Producer Chief Xcel and emcee Gift of Gab have been one such creative force as Blackalicious, a Sacramento-based project pushing a positive, often Afrocentric message that’s more prudent than preachy over dynamic production. From 2000 to 2005, the tag-team released a trio of strong LPs—Nia, Blazing Arrow, and The Craft—but parted soon after to pursue individual interests. On Imani, Vol. 1, their first album in a decade, Blackalicious reunites triumphantly.

With Blazing Arrow—the duo’s seminal work—Blackalicious offered up one of the greatest alternative rap records of the last decade, a complex opus that felt seamless and simple with Gil Scott-Heron’s barreling profundity, Questlove’s drums, a DJ Shadow interlude, Zack de la Rocha’s anarchist shouts, and rapid-fire rapping all arranged carefully on a funky sonic canvas. The pair’s last album, 2005’s The Craft, lived up to its title with a yeoman's approach to lyricism and a tinkerer’s mentality toward innovation, but in its quest to be an experimental marvel, it over-thought its thesis, occasionally doing too much, sonically and technically. The first of a projected trilogy, Imani, Vol. 1 takes important lessons from both, tempering its big ambitions with subtler arrangements and careful pacing.

Blackalicious is most effective when Gift of Gab’s knotty multisyllabic schemes unspool without decryption and nestle neatly in the nooks and crannies of Xcel’s soulful romps, and on songs like "Ashes to Ashes" and "I Like the Way You Talk", they lock in. Gab, one of the most underrated technicians of his time, can still trade bars with the best of them, but what makes Imani, Vol. 1 particularly powerful—and what separates it from the duo’s work outside of Blackalicious titles—is its warm energy and its infectious groove.

Imani is the Swahili word for "faith" and on the opener of the same name Amde of the Watts Prophets spells out the album’s mission statement: "Never let life’s troubles block your flow/ Have faith and get where you’re trying to go." Blackalicious has always promoted positivity, but here it seems less like a cultural critique and more like general life-coaching. Throughout, Imani, Vol. 1 is driven by an underlying spirituality and palpable chemistry. It’s often about connection. The duo has joined forces once more in an effort to overcome personal trials, and Imani is no different: Gab suffered kidney failure just as the duo started preparing to make the record in 2012, and a "borrowed time" narrative punctuates many of Vol. 1’s loose ideas, particularly on "The Hour Glass" and "Escape". Time is a central theme on the album, especially with nostalgic glimpses into the past, like on rare missteps "That Night" and "Inspired By". But there’s also a watchful eye on the future, too ("Love’s Gonna Save the Day").

Xcel productions are often rooted in the sounds of rap yesteryear, but they hedge toward the modern. On Imani, Vol. 1, he again bridges the then and now, lining crisp boom bap drums with splitting guitar chords, protruding basslines, and prickling piano riffs. He samples less often than he has in the past, but he still finds time to chop up Lee Perry (on "Blacka") and scratch in a vocal fragment here and there ("On Fire Tonight"). His beats aren't game-changers, but he finds new and interesting ways to follow the patented Blackalicious formula.

When Chief Xcel and Gift of Gab are both producing at max output, there are few rap duos more capable, and on Imani, Vol. 1 they flex their muscle, showing little sign of rust after the long layoff. What Vol. 1 lacks in memorable hooks, it makes up for with ferocious lyricism. That the album was even made feels like a victory, especially considering it took a PledgeMusic campaign to fund it, but Imani, Vol. 1 doesn’t feel crowd-sourced: It is an intimate piece of work, an inspiring take on conquering personal struggle and coming out whole on the other side. On "The Sun", Vol. 1's brightest moment, Gab spins metaphors on the darkness-vanquishing power of light, jubilantly basking in its rays, shining once again.