What's a Listening Log? Well, the idea is quite simple. It's a weekly segment that consolidates all the mini-reviews Dozens Of Donuts has given on RateYourMusic over the past week, split between the Past and Present. A straightforward grading scale has been put in place, ranging from A+ to F-, with C acting as the baseline average. There is no set amount of reviews per week, just however many I get around to reviewing. And don't expect week-of reviews. I wait one month - with at least three listens under my belt - before I rate and review an album. Enjoy!
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2020 | Neo-Soul | Listen
PICKING PETALS, CONTEMPLATING THE MERITS OF LOVE
It could be my ignorance, but 2020 seems to have been lacking in formidable, black, female voices. With her sultry, variegated vocals and romantic embrace of Neo-Soul's core elements, Lianne La Havas aims to change that. Now, it isn't political or pressing (not that it has to be). Merely, Lianne La Havas' presence certifies the importance of representation. It's a defiant expression of talent and purpose, with lush arrangements both quiet and booming, competing with a flustered individual coming to grips with the fickle nature of relational plights. In that sense though, it is a tad bit formulaic. To say Lianne La Havas isn't generic, commonplace, or appealing to the norms would be incorrect. Lyrical monotony aside - especially in a genre rife with sexually-frustrated redundancy - the prowess of Havas' third LP resides in the swooning, elegant production which attaches a thematic soundtrack to your run-of-the-mill relational strife.
That, and her vocals are lovely. At the flip of a coin, Havas can go from rattled siren a la Erykah Badu ('Bittersweet'), to empowered valiant a la Solange ('Read My Mind'), to frisky inamorata a la Janelle Monáe ('Can't Fight'). If it wasn't obvious, her versatility is as apparent as the influences that draw into question her own originality, of which I find quite lacking. You hate to stereotype, but one glance at Havas' style and the emancipated demeanor that feels individualistic suddenly comes across as imitative. A mere blip in a long string of courageous black females in the field of music. To put it succinctly, I'm still waiting on a singular minority voice whose draw isn't supported by shifting trends. M.I.A. is the closest we've seen.
But I digress, and have likely enflamed a few of you. For what it's worth, Havas comes awfully close when the LP's centerpiece, 'Weird Fishes,' rolls around. The imposing Radiohead cover - in and of itself a striking declaration to make - far outpaces the original with an array of colliding, Art Rock instrumentation. It's rock bottom, as indicated by the lyrics, with an avalanche of stone suffocating that depth. Slight comparisons to Yves Tumor's latest incarnation, on Heaven To A Tortured Mind, come to mind. Along with Moses Sumney's rare bouts of discharge on græ ('Bless Me'). But really, this moment is truly Havas', and it's easily her best effort to date. Crashing symbols, harmonizing vocals, and an orgasm of sound cause 'Weird Fishes' to be Lianne La Havas' unquestionable high point.
'Sour Flower' comes close, for different reasons, with its exquisite pacing that sounds like a skipping trot around natural wonders. The extended instrumental outro is a joy, embracing silent infatuation without the interference of humanity. It's a rare moment of respite for the empowered black female who's accustomed to demanding attention, and rightfully so, with their voice. It's also why Havas deserves special recognition despite filling a void that always seems replete; the sophistication and sense of maturity, when she distances herself from your mundane, human-to-human conflict, is lofty and your true representation of confidence. An album composed more of 'Weird Fishes' and 'Sour Flower,' with your necessary hooks and hits thrown in, removing profusions along the way ('Seven Times,' 'Courage,' 'Bittersweet') would result in an epic that outlasts the contemporaries she's inevitably compared to.
B-
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2020 | Neo-Psychedelia | Listen
FAIRIES SAVING A PIG FROM FABLED SAVAGES
It's a sad state of affairs when every Animal Collective release in the last decade has pockets of fans declaring it "their best since Merriweather Post Pavilion. It's indicative of a fall from grace, a style of mythical curiosity lost with age. No matter how weird, how experimental, how prismatic they find themselves, AnCo still struggles to capture what made their music demiurgic. Perhaps most disappointing of all is how, on their own, each respective artist has achieved moderate success this decade. Avey Tare's Cows On Hourglass Pond acted like a portal to the past, dropping listeners in a forest made of whimsical fanfare. Panda Bear's Meets The Grim Reaper expressed Neo-Psychedelia with transfixed commitment. And, best of all, Deacon's Sleep Cycle became firmly entrenched in otherworldly haunts and the demons that awaken inside as a result.
All that being said, Bridge To Quiet is their best since Merriweather Post Pavilion. I never said I was above self-mockery. Though the wording of such a phrase implies success, which is less so the case when outputs such as Painting With and Tangerine Reef have been so inadequate. Still, unlike their recent releases, Bridge To Quiet prevails in acquiescing AnCo's flighty Free Improvisation to an aesthetic which harbors both a natural urge to explore, and a childlike wonder necessary to appreciate it. That can best be seen on standout 'Piggy Knows,' where an uncomfortably-grotesque Ambient opening gives way to slapdash drums, delirious vocal harmonizing, and lyrics so absurd one can't help but stumble into their world of delusion. It's a Grimm fairytale disguised under modern conventions, and likely AnCo's catchiest effort in a decade. Though one could argue 'Jimmy Mack' off The Painters has something to say about that.
As for Bridge To Quiet's other three cuts, there's issues, some more prevalent than others. 'Rain In Cups' is equipped with unnatural instruments and tilting melodies, a prime AnCo formula, but marred almost irrecoverably by a jarring juxtaposition between verse and chorus. It's an amateur error by consummate professionals, and takes me out of the song each and every time it appears. 'Sux-Bier Passage' is the weakest of the bunch overall, largely because of its inability to expand like the others. Interesting soundscapes nonetheless. As for 'Bridge To Quiet,' the passable jaunt's one snafu is the ten-minute duration it has no right being. There isn't a sense of ambition or purpose, as Tare pounces around generic (by Animal Collective standards) rhythms with encroaching Neo-Psychedelia fodder. A four-minute song at best. Overall though, Bridge To Quiet is a step in the right direction. Trim the fat, strengthen that pig, and then we'll really get to cooking.
C
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