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!
______________________________________________________
Charli XCX has been on my radar for quite some time, but the decision to not invade her discography came in response to my belief that she's more an ambassador to Bubblegum Bass and Futurepop, a figurehead if you will, than an actual component thrusting the movement forward. That changes with How I'm Feeling Now, a ravenous, unhinged experiment in pushing the limits of Pop consumption. From the instant 'Pink Diamond's' pulverizing synths flashed like lasers at a Knife concert I knew I was in for a treat. Compared to her past work, so I've been told, How I'm Feeling Now is her most experimental, liberating, and manic. What makes these descriptors even more integral, satisfying, and all-around relevant is their relatability to the current COVID-19 pandemic sweeping the world. Apart from the lyrical recitations that reference isolation, loneliness, and the inability to socialize - which, while clever and pertinent, rarely extend beyond primitive Pop musings - How I'm Feeling Now's true prowess as a concept album emerges in the vicious, unrelenting, and oftentimes startling production. A.G. Cook, who handles the majority of the production as a purveyor of PC Music, treats these beats as compensation tactics for those unable to enter a club to party their stresses away. Many of these tracks, especially the most volatile like 'Pink Diamond,' '7 Years,' and 'Anthems,' reflect the isolation damage pent-up through months of quarantine by combusting all those lost Saturday nights at once. The result is exhilarating.
This really is club music for partygoers trapped at home, with their only sociable outlet being a glitchy Zoom whose parallels towards party culture begins and ends at a comprehensible disconnect thanks to extraneous effects. In a club, it's the sheer noise. "WHAT?" On Zoom, it's poor Internet reception. "I can't hear you." Thankfully, the crystal-clear clarity of Bubblegum Bass means Charli XCX can be heard distinctly, despite the pandemonium around her. Which is a blessing considering how much her sense of melody and knack for catchiness elevates nearly each and every song. 'Forever' is the first obvious instance and How I'm Feeling Now's best, achieving the rare feat of constant addiction. Verse, hook, bridge, glitchy breakdown, it doesn't matter. Each section is as entrancing as the previous one. Elsewhere, dumbed-down simplicity helps establish the incisiveness in tone Charli XCX intends to achieve. Be it, 'Claws' ("I like everything about you"), 'C2.0' ('So legit with all my clique, clique, clique..."), or 'Party 4 U' ("I only threw this party for you"), Charli maintains a direct focus on her desires, doing so in a universal way that's innately human. Combine these two sides - the performer and the producer - both affixed to stimulating humanities need for harmony and rhythm, and you have a recipe for greatness.
There's plenty more to discuss about How I'm Feeling Now, but the sheer simplicity, and how effortless that turns into Pop perfection, is its main selling point. I can't go without mentioning the ludicrous boldness of inserting 96 cliques in 'C2.0,' and how that transforms a sound typically reserved for a walkman stuck on a loop into something viciarous and encompassing. Or 'Party 4 U,' a song that regrettable dawdles for three minutes before reaching, what's arguably, How I'm Feeling Now's greatest achievement. Or 'Anthems,' the loudest and most indisputable banger beginning, hilariously, with the line "I'm so bored." Sure doesn't sound like it, Charli. In fact, despite her shaky emotive state thanks to a quarantine that prevents her from witnessing the fruits of fame, Charli XCX has, ironically, found a way to entertain herself - and all of us - by merely staying at home. As an introvert, that's my kind of party record.
B+
______________________________________________________
What a statement. And to know Negro was made on the precipice of yet another abhorrent case of police brutality, that sparked a protest the likes of which this nation hasn't seen in decades, only makes Pink Siifu's scathing indictment of bastard America more impactful. That being said, its reach - no matter how effective it would be - is curtailed significantly by its sheer inaccessibility. Apart from the handful of weary Bandcamp sleuths who stumble on Pink Siifu's page in utter shock, the majority of those willing to subject themselves to a muddled, antagonistic, terrorizing Sound Collage / Noisecore / Industrial Hip-Hop monstrosity, are those who already fall on Siifu's side. Preaching to the choir, so it's called. Regardless, as an artistic piece of work, Negro is eviscerating. No punches are held back, no utensil for provocation unused. Negro's demanding Sound Collage is so impenetrable that finding an actual aesthetic comparison, apart from the inner-workings of a black man in America rebelling against the status quo, proves difficult. One moment there's gnarled Hardcore Punk ('Fk,' 'Chris Dorner.'), the next melodic moments of impoverished reflection ('myheartHURT.,' 'On Fire, Pray!'). Interspersed between are Spoken Word, slice of life passages, indiscernible featured verses from the likes of Moor Mother ('bebe's kids, APOLLO') and The OGM ('faceless wings,BLACK!'), and frantic outbreaks of violence against authority.
It is difficult. Remember when people questioned whether Death Grips were even Hip-Hop? Yeah, no. Negro is Hip-Hop gone rogue, incorporating other genres hellbent on atmosphere and emotion to accomplish a goal standalone Political Hip-Hop couldn't achieve. Ensley, this is not. I'm inclined to draw in a testy example; Terrace Martin and Denzel Curry's 'Pig Feet.' At this stage in America, by the books doesn't cut it. We've seen vicious verses decrying the actions of police over spastic Free Jazz before. 'DEADMEAT' is new. Siifu doesn't hold back, screaming with salivating vitriol: "Treat me like I ain't shit, fuck all y'all piece of shit / Fuck pigs, fuck pigs, fuck pigs, feel like killing the pigs / Little nigga eating ribs, feel like eating pigs." Now that is a statement. 'Fk' is still Negro's best, for its orphic depiction of agro-Punk, but 'DEADMEAT' is the most demanding, disturbing, and powerful. Not only is it Negro in a nutshell, it's America circa 2020 too. The rest stands on shaky ground, capering around like performance art that'll likely leave a grave, though admittedly broad impact.
C+
______________________________________________________
Debut's nearing one's mid-life crisis are a rarity in the music industry, and that's partly why I was drawn to Keeley Forsyth's Debris. At 41 years old, though I'm not familiar with her work as an English actress, I can undoubtedly appreciate crafting a passion project, in an entertainment medium you've previously shown no experience in, at such a ripened point in one's career. On top of that, despite the restricted means by which Forsyth tackles this work, originality spews from the ominous, sparse, derelict Debris. Her vocals are cold and wandering, weathered by unseen forces. The production, featuring bare bones acoustics and pale, unnerving organs, teeters nervously in a state of limbo. Oddly enough, I find comparisons to Patty Waters' enigmatic Sings from 1966. Just swap out the Vocal Jazz for Avant-Folk, and you have a record that's just as desolate, forlorn, and morose. Excluding 'Black Is The Color Of My True Love's Hair,' but that's another story.
Another comparison point I find in Forsyth's sound is Nico, especially on 'Lost' and 'Butterfly' as those cold, pressurizing Drones bordering the edge of Neo-Medieval Folk resemble Nico's famed trilogy; The Marble Index, Desertshore, and The End.... All this is to say, Forsyth's about half a century late. Though revival music hasn't stopped anyone before, and there's no denying Debris stands singular amongst its 2020 counterparts, Forsyth's sound still feels rooted in an ancient past. That is, until 'Start Again' rolls around, with its momentous synthesizers, multilayered vocals, heartbeat bass, and expressive climax. It stands tall as Debris' best, with no competition in sight. Also, the cover is excellent and one of my favorites this year.
C
______________________________________________________
Lil Yachty used to give me hope for Trap, with his eccentric personality and self-exiled approach. The original Lil Boat is still one of the most audacious, alarming curiosities Hip-Hop's new age has brought us. Then he succumbed to emulation when money came calling. Lil Boat 3 is yet another example of that, showing promise when it wants, filling the empty space with dire demos picked up from the cutting room floor to inflate streaming numbers. The ol' Migos way. The 19 song tracklist should've been a dead giveaway, and after only one listen through that theory has affirmed itself. If we're to exclude 'Oprah's Bank Account's with its endearing chorus and, to some extent, 'Till The Morning,' there is nothing after 'From Down Bad' worth saving. That is ten songs. Lil Boat 3's back half is a Trap graveyard, where cliches come to live and quality comes to die.
But damn were those first seven songs promising. 'Top Down' and 'Wock In Stock' not so much, but the five-track run from 'Split / Whole Time' to 'Black Jesus' is legitimately Lil Yachty's best, most mature (relatively speaking) content to date. 'Pardon Me' is a curious banger thanks to Future's whistling verse, a gimmick I'll let slide for it strays from his insipid norms, 'Demon Time' rocks from the get-go with a sly opening verse from Draft Day, and 'Black Jesus' captures Yachty at his most crafty over a dramatic, moody beat from Tahj Morgan. But, as is almost universally agreed, nothing comes close to 'T.D.' Yes, Yachty takes a backseat to three superior verses, but his bookend contributions give 'T.D.' that posse cut vibe it thrives under. Each verse from there on bests the former, with Tyler The Creator's lengthy, sporadic endeavor trumping A$AP Rocky before being itself trumped by Tierra Whack who steals the show with some fiery, tongue-twisting bars that flow effortlessly over some twinkling synths. I'm reminded of G.O.O.D. Music's 'Mercy' or Black Hippy's 'Vice City' here.
'T.D.' is a fantastic Trap song. Too bad one single can't keep a 53-minute album afloat, for the muck that spews on 'Love Jones,' 'Can't Go,' 'Range Rover Sport Truck,' 'Lemon Head,' 'Don't Forget,' 'Up There Music,' and 'Whew Chile' is too prominent to bear. The hooks are abysmal, going so far as to irritate on purpose, and the content adds absolutely nothing to a genre that's been submerged in redundancy. Overall, Lil Boat 3 fails to best all of Yachty's previous projects, besides Teenage Emotions. Just like that album, there's one triumph to take from the pile of refuge. If you couldn't guess, yup, it's 'Bring It Back.'
D-
______________________________________________________
No comments:
Post a Comment