Odds & Ends 116
Odds & Ends 116
Unlimited breadsticks form a Levy stable distribution with a fat tail, and other social democratic lifehacks
Sardonically optimistic trio with vocals on the dodgy side of Malkmus that they usually get away with through a combination of self-awareness and song structures ripped off from four or five different decades, just one example of their canniness at negotiating the snares of contemporary capitalism: the unlimited breadsticks in the buffet line are a trap (“Best Life”, “Emotional Rent Control”, “Don’t Get Hit by a Car”)
Andreas Røysum Ensemble: Fredsfanatisme
This time the palette of this Oslo ten-piece isn’t as novel as the tabla-heavy setup of their debut, but they uncover cool trancey effects that they honk away over with the endurance of cross-country skiers; maybe Norway’s Winter Olympians can learn hand-drumming during the off-season (“Flipp ut”, “Jakter på Røyskatten”, “Sawakuro”)
Allison Russell: Outside Child
“This is not a record about trauma. It’s a record about art and community and chosen family,” she’s said, and at her liveliest, she elevates herself clear enough of stock folkie tropes and the no-jokes-allowed Americana production to leave no doubt this is true, whether she’s describing her first same-sex experiences or slipping into a fetching French that does justice to her Montreal roots (“Persephone”, “4th Day Prayer”, “Poison Arrow”)
Nigerian traditionalish-ist classified as “Igbo highlife” by his Colombian label, though my favorite tracks have more than a hint of soukous in their clean, accurate plucking; it’s hard to hear where the sobriquet “the Jimi Hendrix of highlife”, but traditionalishists should find plenty to like (“Uwa Amalugom”, “Uwa Bia Kiribe Nayoka”, “Obi Cubana”)
Scorpion Kings (DJ Maphorisa & Kabza De Small): Once Upon a Time in Lockdown
The fourth collaboration between South Africa’s amapiano kings keeps the baseline quality very high, with slinky house chords and imitation idiophones creating a groove that could go on forever (they call it quits after an hour and a half) and a rotating cast of singers with little incentive to stamp their personality on things (“Phumelala”, “Ngibambe”, “Scorpion Kings 2”)
Moneybagg Yo: A Gangsta’s Pain
An adept rapper who meshes well with the males on his star-studded guest list, his gangsta side is a bit muted—perhaps due to his conversion to Islam, he now asserts “my opps ain’t even worth killin”—while his pain side asks important questions like what if lean was like a woman (i.e. bad); the beats, the DeBarge-sampling hit and a couple of Neptunes notwithstanding, are not worthy of Interscope (“Wockesha”, “Certified Neptunes”, “A Gangsta’s Pain”)
Irreversible Entanglements: Open the Gates
The synths are largely unnecessary, and though Camae Ayewa’s delivery is impeccable, there aren’t as many killer lines as on Who Sent You?; the concise single and the high-level grooving and musicianship on the ones that don’t stretch too far past ten minutes are still worth your time (“Open the Gates”, “Lágrimas Del Mar”)
Tim Berne and three-quarters of the newest Bad Plus have fun with Ornette (plus Haden/Redman, with a couple of Hemphills for luck), though they’re still in the largely intact shadows of giants relative to the later-recorded Tower Tapes (“Street Woman”, “Song for Ché”)
Denton, TX quartet’s fifth-or-so rock opera, this one about a forgotten Texas band from the ’70s, a time capsule, and a barbecue smoker called Piggy Sue; somehow it’s even more annoying than that sounds, but it’s inspirational in its dedication to the idea that you never know where great art might show up (“BBQ Artist”, “Volunteer DJ”, “Greatness Waitress”)
Self Esteem: Prioritise Pleasure
Self-help pop but with drops is hard to object to, even if I personally need stacked choruses exhorting me to enjoy myself and remember to breathe like I need a Peloton (“Prioritise Pleasure”, “I Do This All the Time”)
Tyshawn Sorey & King Britt: Tyshawn & King
Digable Planets touring DJ turned UCSD Blacktronika prof Britt brings well-aged bleeps that still reach for an Afrofuturistic new refutation of time and space, while Sorey propels at all speeds and smashes that snare (“Untitled One”, “Untitled Two”)
Youssou Ndour & Le Super Etoile de Dakar: Mbalax
More like arena mbalax than the back-to-basics the title suggests, which has its thrills—remember who’s singing—but I wouldn’t mind if he laid off the synths for a while, or at least hired Skrillex (“La solucion c’est le pardonner”, “Da fa laa”)
Remi Wolf: Juno
I’m so desensitized that a singer really has to make an effort to annoy me these days, so genuine kudos, Remi (“Liquor Store”, “Quiet on Set”)