Long Island rapper Roc Marciano samples old soul and jazz records and Memphis horrorcore instrumentals to create his unique style of hip-hop.

Anyone gleaning their musical info from the UK music press would be forgiven for thinking that hip-hop these days is pretty much limited to Drake and Kendrick Lamar, and maybe Travis Scott, Li’l Wayne and J.Cole – with the female cohort led by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion and our own Stormzy and Skepta, Wiley and Little Simz flying the flag for UK hip-hop and grime.

Yet they are far from the most interesting rappers around today – they’re just the ones with big record deals and big PR companies pitching them to white journalists who don’t really listen to hip-hop but want to appear as if they are down with the kids.

There’s a whole new generation of rappers like Playboi Carti and Doja Cat (big enough to headline Coachella even if you’ve never heard of her), Yeat, Latto, Doechii and the UK’s own Central Cee. Then there are cult underground rappers like this guy, Roc Marciano.

I can’t improve on this description of this song – “It sounds haunted – like a talisman stolen from an unmarked grave” – from a fellow calling himself Ruff Criminal, who does YouTube reviews in ten seconds or less. There’s a decent argument that all reviews should be conducted with that sort of brevity.

Roc Marciano – Rakeem Myer to his mum – is an MC and producer from New York City’s Long Island, previously home to Public Enemy, Busta Rhymes and De La Soul, who’s made a name for himself with moody, claustrophobic beats and stream-of-consciousness lyrics.

His style is a laidback, gruff vocal delivery over lo-fi low-key beats featuring samples of, and references to, old jazz and soul records – and, on this title track from his new album, “a sinister callback to classic Memphis horrorcore instrumentals”.

And no, I don’t know what those are either.

His albums tend to be named after himself in one way or another – Marcberg, Marci Beaucoup, Mt. Marci and Marcielago – and the new one, Marciology, is no exception, folding in references to Blaxploitation soundtracks (Goyard God) while others are just plain eerie (Gold Crossbow).

One of his earliest recordings was on Busta’s 2000 album Anarchy on which he traded verses with Wu-Tang’s Raekwon and Ghostface (The Heist) before forming his own rap outfit called The U.N. With some of his high-school classmates.