A reminder of the column premise: grading (and editing) is hard and my bandwidth is finite. Quite possibly a couple of these would’ve snuck on to my A-list if I gave them the required close attention. Which ones, well you tell me.
Aespa: My World mini-album
The useless bombast of opener “Welcome to My World” proves they’re disinterested in regaining the status as K-pop’s vanguard group they ceded to NewJeans. The following consumption trilogy (“Spicy”/“Salty & Sweet”/“Thirsty”) shows they still have value as a chowhound’s Red Velvet: some of the synths are filthy, primary vocalists Ningning and Winter pull off some neat octave hops, and “sip sip sipping all night” implies some ambiguous oral fixation is being satisfied. Then comes the very brave “I’m Unhappy”, which as previously mentioned is as vivid an actualization of melancholy as Radiohead ever constructed. Last: a ballad. (“I’m Unhappy”, “Spicy”, “Thirsty”)
Ava Max: Diamonds & Dancefloors
Every generation needs their diva willing to belt hacky dance anthems like they’re gospel, and Milwaukee’s Max has the apparatus for it. It’s not just that certain other singers of Albanian descent wouldn’t be able to wrap their vocal cords around the rhythmic attack of “Maybe You’re the Problem”, let alone the whistle register stuff, it’s that she can sing maybe-crazy rhymes with a straight face and maintain a sense of imperiousness while doing so. Admittedly having avant-garde haircuts and no all-world songs isn't going to suffice for long-term US success, but American stardom just gets you attacked on stage by some asshole, so she’s better off going full Eurotrash anyway. (“Maybe You’re the Problem”, “Million Dollar Baby”, “One of Us”)
Bettye LaVette: LaVette!
Five years after her Dylan tribute, the last great soul shouter standing releases an album of songs by… Randall Bramblett? Wait, have I got that right? Not Bramlett? <pulls out ’70s Consumer Guide> Oh yeah, Randall Bramblett, I uh definitely know that guy. It’s not a perfect fit—it’s not really possible to believe LaVette is “Lazy (and I Know It)” (she should’ve reassigned John Mayer to that one)—and Steve Jordan's production won’t endear itself to those on the record as hating generic ’70s rock (when Jon Batiste shows up, it’s a huge relief.) But she attacks her phrases anyway, and the songs that give her ready-to-murder lines like “”I got no plan B” are worth hanging on to. (“Plan B”, “Sooner or Later”, “Mess About It”)
East Africa Highway: More Gems from the Golden Age of Benga and Rumba
Extremely deep cuts from the early Eighties, beginning with “Margy Sugar ‘Na’” by somebodies called Gem Lucky Jazz. It’s all very likable, with plenty of benga beats and even organ on the Orch. Bima Lee track, but unlike Piconema, essential only for those who could listen to this stuff forever—and to be fair, if you had to listen to music from one time and place forever, this’d be a near-top choice. The one must-hear is Moreno’s Orch. Moja One’s “Manimba”, which springs off familiar chords (please don’t tell Marvin Gaye’s estate) with excellent sax comping and guitar work that just goes on inexorably. Forever? Forever ever? (“Manimba”, “Ni Uranjuhigirie”, “Margy Sugar ‘Na’”)
Henry Threadgill Ensemble: The Other One
Threadgill conducts, getting two young players to sub for him on alto. While I don’t know which one is Alfredo Colón and which one is Noah Becker, collectively they play well enough that you don’t miss him. The opus is perhaps overcomposed, and with percussionist Craig Weinrib underemployed save for a showcase interlude (and despite Seth Colter Walls calling the work “obliquely danceable”), encouraging anyone to boogie to this is an OSHA violation waiting to happen. There are still plenty of kinetic moments for everyone from string arrangement nerds to horn arrangement nerds to pick apart. (“Mvt I, Sections 6A-7A”, “Mvt III, Section 14”, “Mvy I, Finale”)
Ingebrigt Håker Flaten & Paal Nilssen-Love: Guts & Skins
The Trondheim Conservatory of Music throws a ruby anniversary party, and, a few years late, all the big names show up: Magnus Broo! Signe Emmeluth! Special guest British person Alexander Hawkins! Some of the seven “parts” here are a bit subtle for those of us without a Master’s in European Jazz, and Nilssen-Love sure does nilssen-love his avant-vocal improvisers (Isabelle Dutoit here.) But there are enough fireworks—the opener’s collective cacophony, insistent solo work from standout Hawkins on piano and organ, and a closing reunion of most of the original lineup of Atomic with Broo’s trumpet blasting over a typically idiosyncratic Håker Flaten/Nilssen-Love vamp—to keep the plebs (me) occupied. (“Part 1”, “Part 7”, “Part 3”)
Lil Durk: Almost Healed
One of the country’s ten most popular rappers makes an album about trauma, and while you may have heard far too many of those in recent years, one can’t dispute Durk’s right to make one after the 2021 murder of his brother. He remains skilled at description, able to evoke past dangers and, to some extent, the forces that drove him and many like him into such situations. Still, his analysis has limits, never more so than when J Cole joins him to spill his usual bromides, accompanied by an icky Dr. Luke children’s chorus. (This was the hit.) And if it’s hardly surprising Durk refuses to stop carrying, one would’ve hoped his guests would better respect the theme of the album—worst offender in multiple senses is the loathsome Kodak Black. For the second album in a row, the highlight is a Morgan Wallen collaboration—on another Dr. Luke production, no less. Neither of those two nor Durk are dumb, all of them see themselves as more sinned against than sinning, and all of them offer an insight into a certain type of man that I’d rather not gain first-hand. (“Stand by Me”, “Pelle Coat”, “Sad Songs”)
Odd Eye Circle: Version Up EP
Three members of the major and likely defunct girl group Loona choose to use their freedom from their old label to get closer to their genre’s frontier. The beats are reminiscent of friendlier post-dubstep artists like Flume, with the warmth that slightly melts the synths uncompromised by the insistence of the drum programming. They still retain considerable sophistication in their harmonies, in the chord changes of “Lucid” and “My Secret Playlist” (the latter even has a bossa nova break), and to some extent in their lyrics, not because they know one (1) French phrase but because they’re willing to declare adult attraction. Still a trifle, perhaps, but pastry chef is a job for grown-ups. (“Je Ne Sais Quoi”, “Air Force One”, “My Secret Playlist”)
Uncle Waffles: Asylum
Uncle Waffles! Somehow I have to stop my review from just being the words “Uncle Waffles” again and again. Last year Uncle Waff… okay, let’s try again. Last year Lungelihle Zwane became one of amapiano’s top producers immediately upon releasing her first single, “Tanzania”, leading to transglobal DJing opportunities and a KFC South Africa Uncle Waffles burger. Ah crap. Her beats are squarely in the De Small/Maphorisa mainline. The opening instrumental shows careful sound design, with special attention given to the log-donk; the rest of the time, the beats are generic, not necessarily a dealbreaker when you’re working in music’s current most fertile genre. The main distinction comes from the rappers, especially on “Morrocco”, where Milkiee and Scumie (Milkiee and Scumie!) add life without anyone having anything to do with North Africa as far as I can hear, and “Babiee”, where Jelly Babie (Jelly Babie!) keeps chanting her own name as well as Waffles’s (SEE IT’S NOT JUST ME) while Chley does more classically good rapping. Collectively, they’ve made the range of possibilities for women within Afrotronica, not to mention Afromerchandising, seem much broader than it did a year or two ago. (“Morrocco”, “Babiee”, “Sghubuahandro”)