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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Truth be told, I felt Waxahatchee didn't have this in her. After 2017's lukewarm Out In The Storm and 2018's dry, lifeless Great Thunder, expectations were at a minimum for the conflicted songwriter trapped between an Indie embrace and her Country roots. Lo and behold, choosing to cradle the latter while incorporating the quality of the former, Saint Cloud is a borderline revelation. It snuck up on me while rating songs, as one after another presented their own petrified beauty of the South, removed from politics, vitriol, and disillusion. Waxahatchee doesn't reinvent the wheel - nor did she ever - instead, choosing to relish in textural, acoustic simplicity. Saint Cloud is an honest, down-to-earth, serene work that captures heartland America; or whatever's left of it.
Oddly enough, the first 20 seconds of 'Oxbox' present a red herring that's thankfully not fulfilled. A synthesizer, the same kind that has ruined countless artists straying precariously into the field of SynthPop, worried me tremendously. All was set right upon Katie Crutchfield's appearance though, with her long straying vocals acting like the hair that falls in waves off her head and onto the Ford truck that dominates the cover. 'Oxbox' builds with tempered hope, an eloquent and straightforward open that sets the mood of artist finally willing to take what's rightfully hers. The remaining ten songs bounce between porch-swaying relaxers ('Can't Do Much,' 'War'), long drive reminiscers ('Arkadelphia,' 'St. Cloud'), and ragbag amusers ('Hell,' 'Witches'). Saint Cloud is indebted the mannerisms of small town America, something even I - born in Massachusetts in a town of 10,000 - can relate to wholeheartedly. Like the roses sprouting from the bed of that Ford truck, Saint Cloud envisions a utopia not brought on by the advancement of society, but one that invests in everyday life where peace of mind is mandatory. No bad eggs there, no bad songs here.
B+
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2020 | Downtempo | Listen
STRIPPING NATURE OF ITS ESSENTIAL COMPONENTS
Emancipator's stubbornness has been well-documented. The deterioration of a promising Electronic artist, incorporating blanketed Downtempo as a way to indulge in the senses of Mother Nature, has been witnessed ever since 2006's Soon It Will Be Cold Enough. From then on, as abiding as the season's in his native Virginia, each Emancipator project has been worse than the previous one. How does one live in a manufactured oasis such as this, devoid of variance in color, sound, and style? For fourteen years the path less traveled has been worn down and battered after countless treks with no intention of extended exploration. Once again, Mountain Of Memory fails to intrigue. Complacency would be an understatement.
Though the discrepancy is minor, Mountain Of Memory actually improves on Emancipator's worst; 2017's Baralku, thus breaking the downward spiral. Mainly because the floor was already reached. Here, there's a slight inclusion of psychedelics that enlivens nature's decaying forests, as we see on tracks like 'Pollo Sneeps' and 'Blue Dream.' These feature the elements of Trip-Hop long since removed from Emancipator's catalogue, with shrouded vocal samples filtered amidst the murky air. This makes the textbook beats more soothing and less grating, though the systematic routine Emancipator enforces is still in full effect. This is where the greatest fault lies; his invariability to stray from the norm. These beats don't feel crafted by artisan hands, but rather constructed by a machine told how to elicit nature's reticent atmosphere. It's depressingly formulaic, straying only in scope on the seven-minute 'Awakenings,' which strays near Post-Rock before curtailing that idea all together.
As with every Emancipator album, Mountain Of Memory is pleasant. It is ephemeral and instantaneously forgettable, though there's a mediocre three-track run - 'Currents,' 'Labyrinth,' and 'Chiefin' - that isn't half bad, as a nocturnal, Deep House vibe is approached. 'Himalayan' rounds out the quartet I'd consider average, capable of extending their Ambient atmosphere into something one wouldn't be opposed to returning to. For every one of these instances though, there's an 'Iron Ox,' a 'She Gone To The River,' a 'Snakes & Ladders' - the latter, most similar to his 2019 collaboration with 9 Theory; Cheeba Gold - which drag in aimless futility, devoid of any spirit or passion or artistry. These are patterns, replicated without deviation. The antithesis of what it means to be an artist.
F+
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I'm not sure what happened to Melt Yourself Down, and I'm not sure if it's me. Their self-titled debut, released in 2013, was a breath of fresh air. An energetic force of fiery inhibition, bridging continents with the universal human aspiration of liberation. Sons Of Kemet's Your Queen Is A Reptile took things up a notch, with political devastation mixed with the unstoppable stomp of progress. Perhaps then, I'm just burnt out by the African-inspired London scene, as I also felt rather numb to The Ancestors' We Are Sent Here By History. However, nothing fairs as poorly as 100% Yes, a manufactured record lacking the passion and poignancy of the Melt Yourself Down of yore. Never has rhythmic Dance-Punk and uptempo Afrobeat been such a chore.
There are many problems apparent on 100% Yes, the first is that cover. I loathe it, as it never fails to make me uncomfortable. But I digress, as enough issues lie within the music to equate. In my opinion, music meant to enliven the soul and motivate a complacent community should never rely on patterns or formulas. It is, by nature, a free and emancipated movement, so why box that into convenient three-to-four minute durations with equal amounts of verses and choruses? The comparison is downright odd but I'm reminded of the time someone pointed out to me that Smash Mouth's Astro Lounge followed the exact same structure for every song. 100% Yes does the same thing, excluding the finale which stretches itself to seven minutes, sounding not unlike The Comet Is Coming. The last thing I'd want for liberating music is predictability.
Then there's the crunchy, often times ugly production that conflates Synth Punk and African rhythms in claustrophobic pandemonium non-complimentary of one another. Similarities here can be found to another 2020 album I had the same issues with; Aiming For Enrike's Music For Working Out. Tracks like 'Boot & Spleen,' 'This Is The Squeeze,' and 'Chop Chop' include those same high energy synth and drum combos, in an atonal fashion much akin to Math Rock. Combine this with Kushal Gaya's inconsistency as lead singer, both vocally and lyrically, and you have a project riddled with unsightly turbulence. Recommendation is heavily given to KOKOKO!'s Fongola for accomplishing this tenacity and style far more effectively.
D-
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