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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2019 | Dark Folk | Listen
CONJURING A STORM WITH A SHAMAN'S WHISPER
Even though 2017's Hiss Spun was far from stale - and, in fact, my favorite of the three Chelsea Wolfe LP's I had heard by that point - the Gothic Rock prognosticator needed a change of pace. Though, admittedly, one not as sluggish and paradigmatic of Singer/Songwriter tropes heard over the course of decades, because that's where we find Birth Of Violence. For what it's worth, given the album's title, cover, and concluding epilogue that witnesses an incoming storm, Birth Of Violence more so acts as a prequel to Wolfe's doom and gloom that she's made her mark with. I can appreciate that, though it doesn't make the 43 minutes here any more entertaining. Slow, meandering, and constantly on the verge of a squall that never quite reaches its eruption.
Matters aren't helped by Birth Of Violence's almost purposeful descent in quality, as the first six tracks are arguably its best, the final five a slow-burn of regretful ideas succumb by remorse and morose one would struggle listening to multiple times. Here, only 'Preface To A Dream Play' holds a candle to the album's four lead singles. And even then, Wolfe's best on offer here ('The Mother Road,' 'Deranged For Rock & Roll,' 'Be All Things') pales in comparison to some of her grander ideas and dastardly doings, like 'The Waves Have Come,' 'The Abyss,' or 'The Culling.' Overall quite boring in its rumination, another example of Singer/Songwriter engulfing a talented artist with restrictive means.
D+
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If Zelooperz came up in the Detroit scene at the same time as Danny Brown then ignore my criticism towards their similarities, because they're abundant. Though, as Dyn-o-mite shows, Zelooperz isn't quite as forward-thinking or outward, choosing instead to revel in Detroit inner-city styles that range from offbeat kookiness ('JayJay - Z,' Smoking Chocolate') to miscalculated instances of romance ('Show Love,' 'Love Operation'). The latter of which, along with 'Born Again,' amounts to some pretty spectacularly bad songs with horrid singing that gives competition to Ice JJ Fish of all people. If it weren't for 'The Boys,' the second half of Dyn-o-mite would be virtually unlistenable, as even the predictably-introspective closer 'Bigger Than Me' loses candor thanks to the sloppy, maudlin mess that predates it.
Basically, Dyn-o-mite has two superior songs that stand out for strikingly different reasons. First up is 'Bootleg,' a menacing, Chopped N' Screwed, Memphis Rap banger that draws comparisons to N.O.D.'s Niggas Of Destruction. The Lo-Fi, dingy production is out of this world, accentuated by its sheer simplicity and knack for auricular space. Then there's, of course, 'Easter Sunday' which sticks out like a sore thumb on Dyn-o-mite not only due to Earl Sweatshirt's appearance, but also the fact that it could easily be seen as a Some Rap Songs highlight. The short duration, curtailed loop, and Soul-bred piano melody combine to feel like an epilogue to 'Riot!.' Two solid songs sit comfortably amongst a fleet of average and awful songs duking it out for Dyn-o-mite's final approval.
C-
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2019 | Synthwave | Listen
REVELING IN THE PURGE WITH FULL BABYDOLL ATTIRE
Few have disappointed more than Johnny Jewel this decade. Once a shining beacon of the burgeoning Synthwave scene, Chromatics faded from existence, only to reanimate on a bi-yearly loop with deadpan taunts of new material. This went on for upwards of five years, as Dear Tommy's anticipation fell further and further down publications' "Albums To Look Out For In 20--" lists. Hope, and interest, was all but lost, as promising singles like 'Black Walls' and 'Time Rider' only served to mock those still awaiting something grand. Turns out, while everyone was looking in the direction of Dear Tommy, Chromatics were busy compiling Closer To Grey. No lead singles, no frills, no anticipation. And with that, through expert production techniques, irresistibly soft vocals from Ruth Radelet, and sumptuous pacing that carefully separates the highs and lows, Chromatics are back. And so is the genre they essentially birthed.
Leave it to Jewel to recommence a seven-year layoff with a soporific cover of Simon & Garfunkel's 'Sound Of Silence,' Closer To Grey's worst lyrical track (the ultimate low being unneeded interlude 'Love Theme From Closer To Grey'). Perhaps Jewel, ever the troll, used 'Sound Of Silence' to support the literal silence he basked in for the past seven years. Needless to say, the second half standout - an eight-minute cover of Jesus & Mary Chain's 'On The Wall' - far exceeds that of the opener. With its addictive rhythms, crunchy guitars, and wherewithal to extend beyond reasonable limits to hypnotize, 'On The Wall' is easily one of Closer To Grey's best and a warranted cover if there ever was one. It sits, for me, right alongside 'Twist The Knife' as Closer To Grey's best, the latter invoking a sort of immediate wave of nostalgia to early 2010's nighttime Synthwave with its neon synthesizers and momentous chorus. Think Desire's 'Under Your Spell' or College's 'A Real Hero.'
The rest of Chromatics' 2019 LP is a sort of mixed bag, with other major highlights in 'Light As A Feather' and 'Touch Red,' while stagnant cuts like 'Closer To Grey' and 'Through The Looking Glass' do little more than further elucidate the macabre atmosphere at hand. One can't go without mentioning 'Whispers In The Hall' though, if only for the fact that it's Trap leanings - with a vicious subwoofer and airy backbone - utilizes the genre better than most who attempt to incorporate the trendy genre with their own. The atmosphere here is wildly evocative and combats the slower, melodious tracks like 'Move A Mountain' and 'Wishing Well' quite well, giving Closer To Grey excellent range all under the same, moody, perverse umbrella.
B
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With the culmination of All Mirrors, few can now attest to having such a splendid, natural evolvement over the course of this decade than Angel Olsen. Once a lone Singer/Songwriter trapped in yet another swelling of the inanimate genre, Olsen has finally achieved greatness through the avenue of amorous Chamber Pop. It's hard to fathom the transformation from MY WOMAN's plain, middle of the road Indie Rock to this, a gleaming beacon of extravagant Pop that - combined with Weyes Blood's Titanic Rising and, to some extent, Lana Del Rey's Norman Fucking Rockwell - should usher in a new era of confident, but fragile songwriters.
All Mirrors starts with its masterpiece; 'Lark.' A monumental song that traverses across all of Olsen's capricious state of affairs. Regardless of what mode she conducts - be it the lulling, acoustic-driven grooves of the verses, the shaky but stern chorus, or the explosively-liberating final bridge - Olsen's preeminence is undeterred. 'Lark' nears perfection, with sublime pacing that could beat out any contemporary artist this millennium. Funeral-era Arcade Fire would be an apt comparison.
Speaking of comparisons, one could argue that All Mirrors' lone critique falls on Olsen's reliance towards imitating past trend-setters. Nothing is overt mind you, as each of All Mirrors' eleven songs are indispensable to the project at large, but they're still apparent. Whether it's the bodacious 'New Love Cassette' honing in on St. Vincent, the second half of 'Too Easy' that turns into an Indietronica romp akin to Broadcast, the luminous and dazzling theatrics of 'All Mirrors' and its Kate Bush inspiration, or the contemporary Baroque Pop 'Spring' that prances like Titanic Rising's most radiating tracks, All Mirrors never hides its conglomerative ways. It doesn't stop there either, as the wild and consuming orchestral strings on 'What It Is' remind me of Kanye West's Late Registration, namely 'Gone,' while Olsen's quivering, palpitant vocals on 'Tonight' and 'Endgame' recall the mysterious Patty Waters and her bizarre 1966 Vocal Jazz record Sings.
In spite of all these prominent comparisons, All Mirrors still flourishes, if only for the fact that Olsen's handling of such large and diverse afflatus' is outstanding and shows her artistic acumen to its fullest extent. Apart from 'Impasse,' which one could point to Chelsea Wolfe's doom and gloom Gothic Rock for the idea, nothing on All Mirrors is anything less than good. It's a masterstroke of ambitious Pop, with five gorgeous standouts - 'Lark,' 'All Mirrors,' 'Too Easy,' 'What It Is,' and 'Chance' - surrounded by a stately bunch of refined and meticulous second tier songs that would be considered highlights and any number of modern Chamber Pop records. You know an album's good when I didn't even talk about 'Chance,' a finale best left to experience.
A
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No Danny Brown, I don't know what you're saying. Given the meaning behind uknowhatimsayin¿'s title, that's likely the point. But it doesn't negate the fact that, compared to instant classic Atrocity Exhibition, uknowhatimsayin¿ is a massive step-down and one that uses the titular empty phrase to get away with perfunctory artistry. Putting criticism aside for one moment - as I'm aware it came swift and heavy - Danny Brown's fifth LP is a quality Boom Bap album with hints of the Detroit's rapper off-kilter personality and production quirks. It nestles itself alongside Old in terms of value, with similarities drawn to each album's lack of identity and direction. Here, Brown follows a similar trajectory to Denzel Curry or Vince Staples, reverting to street-savvy forms of engagement following a supposed loss of respect, all while trying to maintain the idiosyncrasies that made him notable. That duality doesn't work out all too well, as the forward-thinking lens takes a clear backseat to instant gratification.
That much can be seen on uknowhatimsayin¿'s slow start, as 'Change Up' and 'Theme Song' are about as unmemorable as one can imagine for a highly-anticipated opener. The tactics emphasized here - on the former, Danny Brown's gruff maturation, the latter his callow tomfoolery - are well-trod territory for the emcee and don't particularly excite, even in the restricted production. Disappointment continues to dot the LP, with the most notable example being '3 Tearz' with Run The Jewels on the bars, JPEGMAFIA on the boards. Considering the prowess of those involved, the wholly substandard, by-the-books fanfare exhibited here is borderline pathetic. It was uknowhatimsayin¿'s equivalent to 'Really Doe,' and it failed spectacularly, rife with platitudes. Another miscalculation here is the misuse of Paul White, one of the most underrated producers of our time, relegated to a box of confined virtuosity. There's no 'Ain't It Funny' explosiveness or 'Dance In The Water' mania, just mildly colorful Boom Bap as seen on 'uknowhatimsayin¿' and 'Shine.'
In fact, uknowhatimsayin¿'s bright spot falls on the executive producer Q-Tip, who dishes out arguably the three best beats - and therefore, songs - on the LP: 'Dirty Laundry,' 'Best Life,' and 'Combat.' The latter for obvious reasons, as the quirky rhythms and tuneless horn draw parallels to A Tribe Called Quest's early career and 2016's We Got It From Here. 'Dirty Laundry' and 'Best Life,' both lead singles, are the most flamboyant and saturated here, the former not unlike a more mature Brockhampton beat while the latter sees Q-Tip riffling through Danny Brown's work with The Avalanches Soul sampling in the best way possible. To me, these two are the only two that can compare with Atrocity Exhibition's best. The rest of uknowhatimsayin¿ rarely impresses and instead finds Danny Brown resting on his laurels without risking further demurral for the sake of high-flying Experimental Hip-Hop.
C
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