Natural Information Society: Since Time Is Gravity
Long-running jazz/Afrotrance project solves its problem of being slightly boring with a more robust horn section led by tenor Ari Brown, Hamid Drake’s intercontinental drum collection, and a guimbri-playing bandleader per Pitchfork “more attuned to the traditions that have inspired him—and to the nature of his own borrowing” or maybe who just practiced a lot during the pandemic (“Is”, “Moontide Chorus”, “Gravity”)
BigXthaPlug: Amar
Dallas rapper with a familiar backstory (did prison time, now going straight for his son), a drawl that stays likable over Shuggie Otis and Japonaiserie, some good wordplays and some groaners pasted line by line so that they whiz by (“Texas”, “Primetime”, “Rush Hour”)
Though I’m one of the normies who “prefer a song with a subtle or obvious message”, I'll defend their artistic right to progressive Apocalypticism as part of a proud American tradition going back to Cotton Mather, who I’d expect they’d tell they loved him while they beat him up (“Bite Back”, “73%”, “Irreversible Damage”)
Kesha: Gag Order
She’s turned into a fine singer, dropping some of the year's better f-bombs and knowing when to sound rough, and a solid songwriter whose accepts the irrelevance of whether she’s more sinned against or sinning, and is unconvincing only when she lets Ram Dass and a wizard she met on her podcast speak for her (“Fine Line”, “Eat the Acid”)
Christian McBride’s New Jawn: Prime
Likely topper of jazz polls by a mainstream bassist at his freest has satisfying freakouts, and tenor Marcus Strickland and trumpeter Josh Evans have the versatility to smooth out Ornette and rough up Rollins, though I’d be hard pressed to specify anything it does definitively better than dozens of other free-friendly albums I’ve heard this year (“The Good Life”, “Head Bedlam”)
Elle King: Come Get Your Wife
Seceding to Nashville after her drinking buddy Miranda gave her a misleading impression of how easy it is for a woman to become a country radio fixture, she’s appealingly wry about her still-growing domestic history, and while she comes off as a dabbler putting across McAnally-Osborne booze punnery, it was “Worth a Sh[BANG] (“Try Jesus”, “Drunk (and I Don’t Wanna Go Home)”)
Not as annoying as most avant-R&B: there are breakbeats, though there could be more; if there aren’t always good songs, there are at least good chords; and the lyrics are easy to tune out even when she screams, though if you do so you’ll miss out on some quality ass-biting (“Ghost”, “Clowns”)
Rufus Wainwright: Folkocracy
He’s too well-bred for this to sound like a folk album, so just enjoy him struggling with Chaka Khan over whether to turn “Cotton Eye Joe” into an art song or a soul ballad (Chaka wins) and trying to be on his behavior when Aunt Anna and Honorary Uncle Chaim arrive for a McGarrigle tenth of an hour (“Cotton Eyed Joe”, “Wild Mountain Thyme”)
It’s rare to hear post-rock with such good playing, or so much (i.e. any) groove, not so rare to have noise guitar and electronics that don’t add much (“Morrerei Por Isso”, “Invernão Astral”)
After a half century together, their last release before percussionist Fredy Studer’s passing makes their soprano sax-electric guitar-acoustic bass-drums palette work with squawks, squeaks, and rumbles amidst plenty of negative space, though my favorite is when they rave it up—intellectually, of course (“Behind the Eye”, “P-M-F/B”, “Im Unterholz bei Kiew”)
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Reminder to vote in the 2003 albums poll: by email, on Facebook, or in the comments to last week’s post (or on this one, whatever.)
Fwiw, "if there aren’t always good songs, there are at least good chords" would've made the SPL clip show. (Not sure how I feel about that abbreviation, but I've done it now)