Chronicle #8: August-September 2020
From house to trap to country, we're given thrills when they weren't expected, and comfort when it's needed.
Disclosure - ENERGY
Has there ever been anything all that special about Disclosure? A couple of white British guys deciding to make house music in the middle of the early-2010s deep house commercial boom? As good as they were at their peak, there’s not really much stylistically that separates them from a band like, say, Rudimental, and yet they’ve had the advantage of getting high critical praise since the start of their careers. Even back in 2013 with Settie, as commanding as their grooves could be and as well as they could handle the needs of their features, they still fell into traps of believing their own hype and thinking they could get away with redundant interludes and moments of self-righteousness that could slow down their artistic momentum. All flaws that led to Caracal, an album where the less you say about it, the better.
But Energy seems to find them back on their feet, with more defying guests than ever before, and new sensibilities regarding where their influences and the sound they’re thriving on comes from. As completely fine as this album is, it’s kind of a shame that be the most popular and acclaimed house project of the year comes from 2 white guys from Surrey, England-but the Lawrence brothers seem to be at least slightly aware of this, and they appear to have a certain compromise to shine a light on BIPOC artists and the subgenres in which they thrive on. There’s more emphasis on African influences like the Afro-house “Douha (Mali Mali)” with Fatoumata Diawara that deals with missing home and praying for the safety of their loved ones, sung in its original Corsican language-similar to how “Ce n’est pas” is sung in Haitian by Cameroonian singer Blick Bassy. There’s an attempt by Disclosure to demonstrate house’s roots while ignoring the language barriers that step in the way between these artists and a larger audience.
The thing that happens with this broadening of their sound is that you could barely notice, since all these songs are still quintessential Disclosure. Only the Syd/Kehlani collaboration “Birthday” doesn’t fully fit, since Disclosure aren’t that good at making straight R&B. But songs like “Lavender” or “Energy” bring forward the vibe of a club just about to burst due to the synergy of the bodies moving, and even a song like “Who Knew?” might be more atmospheric and takes things slowly, but it’s still looking for a similar type of euphoria. And the 2 highlights are almost next to each other. On one hand, the opener with Kelis, “Watch Your Step” is one of their best pieces, in how they collide Kelis’ vocals with their synths, and even then they can’t stop such a sensual and sneaky figure (“Breakbeat - dance”) while the instrumental shifts into unsteady, funky tones. On the other hand, the monster that is “My High” with Aminé and Slowthai, the shadow of a little kid on a sugar rush discovering that stars maybe can move at their own will. No real surprises on this thing, but no disappointments either.
Internet Money - B4 the Storm
A monument to youth and debauchery. Very few trap albums this year (or even these past few years) have felt like an invitation to a theme park with so many different acts passing through a revolving door, screaming and hollering in joy out of simply being there. It truly sounds like an album made for the kids by said kids, given how producers Taz Taylor, Nick Mira and company are about the same age as their guests. At first glance, this style of production consisting of swamping out 808s with easy-going synth melodies may sound formulaic and cheap, but the more you dive into this album, you find a certain enjoyability in knowing how everything will turn out and still getting thrills from it. Just about every song feels like it’s skipping through a bubblegum bath, reveling in every bubble that comes out. The album’s constantly trying to hold your hand and as soon as it pulls you in, it lets go so you can go have your own adventure.
Continuing with the ‘theme park’ allegory, you can get the mini rollercoaster that is the Kid Laroi solo cut “Speak” that’s barely 2 minutes long, most of it an elongated chorus, that simultaneously teases and insults you while giving you cotton candy; you’re the butt of the joke, but you’re in on it as well. Alongside, you get the 24kGoldn collaborations, both of them like rehearsed choreographies that defy their own restraint (in particular on “Giddy Up”, there’s a certain perfection in “I’m a player, baby, you can say I get around”, like a laughing shrug). Another main collaborator, Trippie Redd, contains the dangerous bits of the theme park, scares that may be a bit too raw to be family-friendly, but that’s what makes it all so much more enticing - his growling on “Really Redd” or his longing for that pussy - that mac and cheese - on “Blastoff”, or his walking mad around the street, angry and frustrated with barely enough time to act composed on “Block”. The real surprise comes in the shape of TyFontaine, a more bombastic Playboi Carti with the baby voice included, but the fact that he’s not Playboi Carti is what makes him so intriguing - it’s like looking at a slightly misshaped Xerox. It’s all almost there, but when it’s not… magic occurs. In the meantime, the R&B flourishes of “Devastated” of Lilspirit are welcome, a veteran like Kevin Gates can sound revitalized and right at home among youngsters on “No Option”, and the hit “Lemonade” is kind of stupid and even bad at times (Nav and Gunna are not the kind of the kinds of artists Internet Money should be working with), but that hook is unstoppable - not the most anthemic part of this album, but definitely the most iconic. The closest to ‘bubblegum trap’ we might get.
Cazzu - Una niña inutil
I see what this is-a long, hot, steamy night between 2 complicated people trying to get back at each other and at the rest of the world. Sex and love are risky businesses, and this album knows it, and wastes no time putting itself on all sides of the situation. Cazzu drops her trap rap to become a silky mistress who’s both put people to the side and has been put to the side, and for one night, captured in Una niña inútil, everything somewhat alligns. The past still hits, but it’s a driving forward motif to push things into complicated extremes. Burning down memories in a haze of sensuality and empathy, but by doing so, the memories only become more present and haunting. Opener “Dulce Tortura” doesn’t know that, but “Romance de la Venganza” (“Romance of Vengeance”) does; the mood doesn’t change (it never does), but the attitude. “I should be one like one of those sluts that you’ll fall in love with”, and it clearly upsets her deeply. She’ll try to hold onto control as much as she can, as the next 2 songs do, with the foreplay-induced “Miedo” that expects to get back what it gives, and the steamy “Canción de la Mujer Astuta”, which delves into sex as a ritual that 2 people fall into, like a hot bath that ends up breaking itself, brief like the night.
What’s more interesting is how the album ends up dissipating itself into old habits, Resentment and old feelings never leave as she chats with her old lover, Chita, on “Conversación”, and both send each other venom laced with flowers, as they recognize how hard attraction can be to someone who’s hurt you as deeply as they have-hurt that comes out back again on the low point of the album, “Capricho”, in which you can tell the languid atmosphere can only last for so long without turning repetitive. Good thing this is a mere 20 minutes, and it ends on the ambiguous and confusing “Queja”, a comedown that somewhat manages to reconcile its feelings and admits love with no complaints or former feelings reaching the surface-but always with the feeling that it’s only for the night. Who knows what will happen tomorrow? This album doesn’t, and it kinda seems to like that. It’s a good listen; sensual, yet ragged. Hats off to Cazzu for trying off something like this and making it work.
Katy Perry - Smile
In many ways, props to Katy Perry for putting this project out. It’s consistent, it’s cohesive, it’s short and to the point, it doesn’t negate her past but embraces it, it says what it wants to say and gets out fast. It respects itself and its audience and understands what said audience wants, without necessarily pandering to them. It keeps its ambitions low but rarely misses. It deals with her fallout as a celebrity and pop superstar in a somewhat mature, healthy, and even somewhat playful way, and it doesn’t feel like it’s chasing any trends. If this is what Katy Perry’s music is gonna sound like from now on, good for her! She’s earned herself a break, and while she may no longer be a best-seller, she’ll always have an audience around to check in on her once in a while, and it’s not even half-bad.
Now, it’s not great either, in fact, it’s barely alright, but it’s hard to trash on such a lightweight pop album. Its worst moments are when it takes itself too seriously, when it leans a bit too much on the idea of a pop icon earning her credibility and sense of self-worth back - “Daisies” is a bit too afraid of itself to portray either any empowerment or instability; the phrase “I’m so resilient” on “Resilient” is just not that powerful a line to drive a whole song; and “Not the End of the World” is a disaster of cataclysmic proportions, a mix of orchestral bombast with cheap trap percussion and an ominous vibe that’s too stupid to have any impact. But after that, there’s not much else than just correct pop music. There’s nothing wrong with “Cry About It Later” or “Only Love” or “Harleys in Hawaii”, other than they might as well be 3 minutes of recorded silence - nothing is made to stand out, for better or for worse. Smile works as fine shopping mall music, which is exemplified in the title track - the melody is catchy, the production has enough bass and swell to have an adequate amount of bounce to it, and Katy’s performance is satisfied with itself enough that there’s no need to question what’s going on. The one real surprise isn’t even one that was made for this album, the opening track “Never Really Over”, a surprisingly harmonically complex tune that questions its very existence, as Katy has to remedy her lingering feelings for something long gone - could be a former lover, could be fame. It’s trying to hold on to an ideal of something, and terribly failing. It’s an admirable moment, one of desperation, and one well placed right at the start of the album, so said desperation can be dealt with and sanitized.
Kelly Lee Owens - Inner Song
This is a fine little album that should get not more than a passing nod only to move on to something else. Not an offense against Kelly Lee Owens, who’s certainly a very talented musician and one who I expect to hear more of as the future collides with our existence. Her combination of tech house structures with dream/ambient pop tones and melodies is quite rich and interesting, and this second album of hers is about as good as her last one. Her compositions can be minimal and subdued, with dashes of light in the middle of a very gray and imbued atmosphere-take the adequate cover of Radiohead’s “Arpeggi”, or fearful running of “Melt!” for a good example of exploration of tones, or the bouncy, hazy “Flow” which has some very resigned and sorry synths. When she wants to be melodic, she can even come up with some pretty decent pop songs, like the poppy “On” or the revolving “Jeannette” that spins around various melodies like a carousel in the middle of the night, or the pretty dark alley of “L.I.N.E.”, a forgotten 80s ballad playing at 3 AM. The highlight of course is “Corner of My Sky” with John Cale featuring as the soggy, brought down narrator walking down the forgotten night sky, as he’s surrounded by shadows in the form of raindrops and musical leaves blowing in the wind. By all means, a fine album.
But it’s one that doesn’t give you much to think about, much to grasp onto after the first couple of thrills of discovering new music are through. I wonder if I’ll ever think to myself, “I feel like listening to that latest Kelly Lee Owens album”, I just don’t see that happening. It’s nothing against the music itself, it’s just a matter of commodity. This album provides not much else than a pretty and adequate listen, and once you’re done with that, all you’re left with is an album that seems to be want to be appreciated more than it does being liked. All the tones are in the right places, and the album covers you up in some way or another, but in the end, that embrace never seems to last. An album like Inner Song by Kelly Lee Owens seems to propose some of the limits that come with writing about music-the awful realization that once the writing is done, the revisiting must begin, and that is a harder task than anyone could have asked for. Too bad for Kelly Lee Owens, she certainly seems very nice and makes pretty music-and this is not her problem either if it is anyone’s. The invisible hearer demands for something more, and neither the observer nor the observed can try much harder than this.
Ruston Kelly - Shape & Destroy
A former addict’s comfort. Looking at one’s steps in life and going, “Huh, I guess things finally aren’t so bad”. It’s amazing to hear Ruston Kelly’s recovery since his heartwrenching debut Dying Star from 2 years ago, where even if he was taking steps towards his recovery, there was still a long way to go before anything even close to real comfort came through. Here, you hear the album’s second song, “Radio Cloud”, and it’s already a lane of hard-won smiles and contentment despite the world seeming to bring him down. Hearing his delivery already says a lot-it was once stilted and confused, in pain; now it’s slurred, cheerful, as if he was wrapping his arm around your back joining you to sing along. “I remember what my name is now”, as the roads split wide open in the middle of a wide sunset.
It’s not an easy path though, the one of betterment and finding your way through the light. For every lovely dedication to his wife like “Alive”, a sweet morning kiss in the middle of the country, there’s a slipup like “Changes” or the tease of “Mid Morning Lament”, where the feeling that the cycles are about to repeat themselves again are too present to ignore, and the spiking your coffee might be the easiest thing in the world. Nothing is ever all that simple, and admitting that is one of this album’s best assets, and noticing that through this beautiful, spare music that treats its strumming guitar and pedal steel like gospel is a treat-they have to remember that there’s always someone out there on the other side of the door asking to be let in, and in its own way, that’s a beautiful feeling. Ruston can carry a slow waltz on the appropiately moldable “Rubber”, or praise something that he may not even know is there on “Jubilee” as long as he knows he can go back to that place of security, of being held with no judgement.
This album is more common and less special than other pieces of country music this year, but maybe that’s the point-trying to find the better aspects of yourself throughout the mundane and vulgar, and treating said mundanities and vulgarities with the weight they deserve. Any explorations of self like the epitaph “Brave” are minimal and small, in which he lets every word linger through the acoustic cracks, and he tries to define himself the way most of us would like to-never giving in, never taking more than he could give, always standing by every promise. Vague stances, but powerful ones as well, especially as his snotty delivery suddenly becomes clear and powerful. And the one other moment on the album where he allows himself to give his words more power is the almost-closer “Under the Sun”, one of the very best songs of the year, a lingering ode to a brighter future that might just be around the corner. On paper, it’s another power anthem, but its execution soars through the orange-tainted skies as its finds its nirvana. “Don’t let me catch you crying in the twilight, it’s almost over”; that’s one hell of a mantra. Maybe these days, it might take a little longer, or maybe there’s another hell to go through, but Ruston Kelly’s one of the strong ones.