Deep Cuts. An idea spurred by those countless playlist drifters, jumping from single to single, without investigating albums further. Here you'll find the five best songs of the previous month, not given exposure via the duty of lead single. The only condition I've imposed upon myself is that no artist can have more than one song.
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R.A.P. Ferreira - Abomunist Manifesto
Bob's Son | Abstract Hip-Hop
There's nothing particularly special about Bob's Son's closer, a half Spoken Word half celebratory acoustic send-off. It's the conviction in R.A.P. Ferreira's words, the kind of slack-jaw certainty, that defines Milo's recent transition into something more mellow and cerebral though. And what better way than declaring oneself an Abomunist; based on Bob Kaufman's poetic teachings. Unlike past LP's - especially those with connections to his side project Scallops Hotel - Bob's Son had coherency behind his poetic ramblings. A love letter of sorts, to an ideology he's at peace being apart of. The resounding final minute of 'Abomunist Manifesto' is perhaps the album's best, as campfire blues cascade gently under R.A.P. Ferreira's casual pen. "Abomunists love love, hate hate, drink drinks, smoke smokes, live lives, die deaths" is absolutist brilliance.
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Bicep - X
Isles | UK Bass
Beginning as an homage to Aphex Twin's IDM, with crunchy industrial rhythms ping-ponging off every tactile surface, 'X' eventually morphs into something even more prominent and futuristic. Distant vocals from Clara La San, indecipherable and dreamy, echo off a narrow hull, coming to and fro, like a warning cry from a decimated future. As the brooding bass and scattershot synthesizers parlay behind, she holds form, entering and exiting with persistence and perpetuity. 'X' is a siren call with immaculate production that, while rooted in half a decade-old UK Bass norms, still finds fresh footing through its elaborate ruse.
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Before Welfare Jazz goes fully off the rails, entering the land of tawdry Western with 'To The Country' and 'In Spite Of Ourselves,' 'I Feel Alive' relishes in one last Punk Blues hooray. Cascading guitars slice between Sebastian Murphy's euphoric exaltation of life, a seeming reaction to a dangerously-close drug overdose. The religious overtones, mixed with the reactionary drug memorialization, bears resemblance to The Velvet Underground's 'Heroin,' though the tonality couldn't be any more different. Here, Viagra Boys' humor emerges in the wreckage, with an outrageous performance by Murphy, backed by a brouhaha of starved, bar-crawling drunkards. 'I Feel Alive' represents Welfare Jazz to a tee, both celebratory and self-inflicting, bumptious and dishonored.
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Every subtlety on Brass can be found on 'Gang For A Day,' the album's definitive centerpiece. In its first moments, Moor Mother's shifty, deluged poetics tip-toe around haunting and hollowed-out production. Then, fractious drums enter thunderously over Billy Woods' stationary over-analyzation before a reemerged Moor Mother steals the show with Horrorcore-esque vocal degeneration. This is the moment where the dragon's slain, only to sprout two more heads while growing triply in size. Fierce, vicious, and commanding an already uncomfortable presence. Throw in uncertain Gospel vocals from Algiers' Franklin James Fisher, as 'Gang For A Day's' tribal-industrial crossover implodes on itself, and there's no wonder why this is Brass' best.
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shame - Station Wagon
Drunk Tank Pink | Art Punk
Up until 'Station Wagon' - Drunk Tank Pink's final song - shame's energy purveyed with minimal downtime. Whether it was 'Nigel Hitter,' 'Water In The Well,' or '6/1,' rollercoaster pacing took a backseat to something more invigoratingly frenzied, shifting from idea to idea at breakneck speeds with limited fluctuation. Not on 'Station Wagon' though, a song whose origins begin moody and perverse. Like Squid mixed with Protomartyr, 'Station Wagon's' unpredictable unease forms alongside Charlie Steen's growing detachment from reality. The sudden excursion towards something more hopeful, with curious spoken word delusions reminiscent of Isaac Wood (Black Country, New Road) puts the final, consequential capper on 'Station Wagon' and Drunk Tank Pink as a whole.
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