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 | Electropop | Listen
DALLIANCE, AS CONCEIVED BY A SCIENCE FICTION FANATIC
After five long years, the former prodigy - and current purveyor - of Pop's transition towards the future returns. The 32-year-old Grimes, with her obsession over flashy materialism, sleek cybernetics, and advanced concepts of music still intact, has garnered more attention lately outside the realm in which she previously flourished, thanks to some rather eccentric beliefs and personal connections. Aka something that doesn't concern me, as someone who tends to gauge the merits of artistry strictly on the contents found within. With half a decade since Art Angels, and a slew of boundary-pushing Pop acts like SOPHIE, Poppy, and 100 gecs emerging in its wake, one would expect Grimes to take that next step towards becoming the towering holographic goddess she desires herself to be. Suffice to say, Miss Anthropocene doesn't eschew expectation or shock with provocation. Instead, it's a reasonable continuation of Grimes' hyperactive Electropop with the predictable sensual dips in genre blending to boot.
If those aforementioned artists have taught us anything it's that the future won't be coherent. As globalization continues to shred distinct cultures into a blender dead set on an androgynous outcome, one style, one pattern, or one mood won't suffice. What was formerly a compliment has now turned criticism; Miss Anthropocene's songs are too well-structured. Tracks like 'So Heavy I Fell Through The Earth' and 'Before The Fever' go in with an idea, and rather than distorting them with unorthodox deviations (the kind we see rampant on Miss Anthropocene's cover), cementation occurs as uniformity emerges. Here, the anomalies are made on a song-wide basis, as 'Darkseid' finds Chinese rapper Aristophanes returning to tout Grimes' world-building cognition, as 'Delete Forever' follows that up with boot-stomping, finger-licking Country Pop. The rest of Miss Anthropocene follows form, as tracks like 'My Name Is Dark' and 'You'll Miss Me When I'm Not Around' rest on the intrinsic nature to attract found in most Electropop. As far as courteous Pop songs go, they're admirable but largely unsustainable as the genre continues to bend, blend, and aberrant.
Miss Anthropocene is held up by three strong cuts, preventing the discussion of Grimes as waning artist. Two sit dead center with the dance floor on their mind; 'Violence' and '4Æm.' The former finds that classic Grimes duality between frailty and hostility (seen, most expertly, on 'Oblivion') burgeon into a highly-rhythmic Trance cut that would make SOPHIE's vision of gender-bending BDSM proud. Then there's '4Æm,' which flirts around fairy woodland rhythms before powering through an addictive hook that you can just picture blasting out the clubs of some future city (Night City, let's say, as Grimes is primed to be heavily featured in the upcoming futuristic video game Cyberpunk 2077). It's arguably Grimes' best hook, I just wish the content found in the verses were more interesting. Lastly, 'IDORU' closes out Miss Anthropocene by embracing the aforementioned fairy woodland, thriving in this world of serenity with a cornucopia of cascading synthesizers and limitless vocal layering. The persistent pacing and otherworldly scope help 'IDORU' end Miss Anthropocene on a strong note, though it's not entirely representative of the largely paradigm Electropop contained within.
C+
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2020 | Art Punk | Listen
HIGH SCHOOL OUTCASTS WITH ACCESS TO THE DEEP WEB
Generally speaking, Kiss My Super Bowl Ring doesn't accomplish anything Mirror Might Steal Your Charm didn't already achieve. And that, my friends, is the cost of embracing the kitchen sink methodology. When blighting shock n' awe tactics are your way to curtail a lack of talent, it's hard to evolve if the latter isn't pulling the weight. And that's not to say The Garden lack in promise; U Want The Scoop? showed that, with a bit of restraint, their oddball interests can flourish in the chaos. Here, it's more pandemonium without a means to reel back the ataxia. Even my favorite moments here, like the unexpected quietness of 'Clench To Stay Awake's' 90's Lo-Fi Indie or the melodic and introspective Art Rock of 'A Struggle,' are intermittently ravaged by grotesque Hardcore Punk breaks that serve no other purpose than to curb momentum while The Garden hails their "le random" ideologies.
When they maintain a consistent tone throughout, Kiss My Super Bowl Ring doesn't fair half bad, as seen on the title track and sleek Experimental Hip-Hop of 'Ampm Truck.' As per usual, the lyrics of Enjoy and Puzzle are abysmal, filling some nonexistent cross-section between Emo and braggadocios. The two things don't correlate by matter of principle. At times they do become serious, like the aforementioned 'A Struggle' or 'A Fool's Expedition,' showing promise if their ego didn't feel the constant need to poke and prod. Finally, Kiss My Super Bowl Ring ends with a string of disappointments, as the four worst songs are arguably its final four. The nauseating Powerviolence comes out again on 'Lowrider Slug' and 'Please, Fuck Off!,' while 'King Of Cutting Corners' and 'Lurkin' become derailed from production clunkiness and trivial lyrics. Meh. To me, The Garden won't become interesting again until they begin to mature.
D+
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2020 | Afro-Jazz | Listen
AFRICAN'S BLEAK HISTORY, DISTILLED TO MUSICAL FACULTY
Before we dive into the boundless praise for Shabaka Hutchings and his revival of damn-near every Jazz-affiliated genre, realization has to set in: We Are Sent Here By History, a sequel to an album four years old now, evolves in no palpable direction. It is good, like the bulk of impassionately-composed Jazz, but fails to distinguish itself amongst a genre already indebted to the past. That being said, that Shabaka Hutchings sure is prolific. In a few short years he has festered the popularity of not one (Sons Of Kemet), not two (Melt Yourself Down), not three (The Comet Is Coming), but four prominent UK-based groups all with their own distinguished identity, as Shabaka & The Ancestors rounds out the flock with devoted Spiritual Jazz. His knowledge is seemingly as boundless as his ability to play the saxophone righteously, regardless of context. And for what it's worth, Spiritual Jazz beholden to the replete culture of Africa's stories history is the perfect setting for his fortified, bygone passion of playing.
But, regrettably, due to the same pitfalls of countless Jazz albums that came before, it falters from achieving the greatness Hutchings has seen elsewhere (see: Your Queen Is A Reptile and Trust In The Lifeforce Of The Deep Mystery). For starters, 64 minutes of largely instrumental plodding, with the same textures, grooves, and approaches, grows tiresome in a modern era that demands instantaneous value. I'm one to forgive such indulgence, if the time spent is well-founded with a myriad of aberrations to keep matters interesting. We Are Sent Here By History doesn't feature that, as the only song that remotely provides a counter is the ominous, divine liturgy of 'You’ve Been Called,' which bears a peculiar resemblance to Exuma's work way back in 1970. Other than that, the LP only shifts from the predictable undulating flows - lurching between palatial regalia and an elephant stampede - on tracks that include the infrequent appearance of vocalist Siyabonga Mthembu, as seen on 'We Will Work (On Redefining Manhood)' and '’Til The Freedom Comes Home.'
What prevents We Are Sent Here By History from being a memorable landmark in the Spiritual Jazz scene is its reliance on the cliches the genre is so often brought down by. Elastic structure patterns can only be instituted so often before even that flamboyant, wayward spirit becomes predictable. Your Queen Is A Reptile flourished, despite a largely instrumental palate similar to this LP, because of a concentrated effort to acclimate concept to tone. Tenor shifted in regards to the centralized deity at hand. Without that, We Are Sent Here By History merely drifts amongst loose abstractions of African civilization, like wind gusts that appear transparent but still amplify the sensations of the surrounding air.
C
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