Music Journal #015

Live In County Cook Jail begins with prison staff acknowledging the the higher-ups in the jail, received by what's largely booing, a little clapping and also laughter from the inmates. Their cheek turns to enthusiastic appreciation as B.B. King walks out, to perform favourites such as Every Day I Have The Blues and How Blue Can You Get? What makes this live record so great, is that you can feel the mood of the unconventional audience between, and throughout, the songs the blues legend and his band play. The chemistry and atmosphere is brought through via the sheer honestly in the environment - no pretenses, only sincere understandings. There's a brilliant few minutes at the end of Worry, Worry where B.B. King delivers a sermon as serious as it is entertaining, directed to the women and men about how love should be respected. My favourite renditions of The Thrill Is Gone tend to be the ones where B.B. King really comes across from rock bottom, but when he performs to a crowd of this kind, he opts for something not just uplifting, but inspiring - a stroke of genius towards the end of the album which I'm sure was deliberate yet feels wholly natural and from the hearts of the band.

My problem with Flume's self-titled album is that, behind how generally nice and amicable it seems, it doesn't really bring much to the table to really make a case for it's existence in album form to me. There are a fair few jams on there, sure, the oomph and vocals on Holdin On are pretty irresistible. Unfortunately, listened to as a whole, the record wears pretty thin pretty quick. It dances with all the themes that were lumped beneath the 'post-dubstep' banner a couple of years ago, and sure if it was released back then I might've felt differently. But it wasn't, and instead I've spent plenty of time in the past couple of years listening to blog-buzz bedroom producers doing the same thing - I guess Flume packaged it nicely ad marketed it better. I couldn't really connect emotionally to the album, and the tricks fell out of the sleeves from the offset - faux-dubstep, hip-hop or house, there's always the sweeping synths that aren't panned so well and overdosed on reverb. It's a nice listen, and I'm a sucker for this sound, it's just that the record is also almost instantly forgettable for me - there's no distinct character in the tracks. It reminds me of XXYYXX's album in that respect - well-executed and slick, showing talent but perhaps a lack of maturing creativity? I won't ignore future releases but I do remain unconvinced.

Moderat develop a damn near perfect pop sound on II. Channelling hallmarks of their first record, such as the reinvention of Rusty Nails, which has evolved into Bad Kingdom, they've changed more than I'd expected. Because the lead singles of this album and their last carried such similar vibes, I thought it would indicate a similar, yet more refined effort. Instead, II has had all the fat cut from it, and certainly a shift in the balance has taken place - Apparat's fingerprints are far more frequent on each track this time round. It's a welcome change, as Modeselektor have already shown what they can do - their Monkeytown beats are still present, such as on Versions, but everything mid-range upwards is all Apparat. He dresses layers of sparkling electronica over each other while Modeselektor's contributes are surely subtle on Let in the Light, though perhaps I disservice them with these assumptions. Intervals are kept short and sweet, while vocals are more prominent across the half-hour or so. Moderat conjure magnificent clouds that obscure and mystify, slowing things to a crawl, or infuse you with rushing joy on a whim. The consummation of the album, with Damage Done preparing for the expansive This Time outro, is administered with expert craft, and I'm more than desperate to see how Moderat bring their sound to their live show.

Transcendent. Liberating. Exponential. Organic. Calm. Superhuman. Innate. Riveting. Pulsating. Impulsive. Constructive. Surreal. Dreamy. Loved. Danceable. Expressive. Emotional. Pale. Charming. Nurturing. Well-mannered. Shamanistic. Soothing. Delicate. Glowing. Harmonised. Grateful. Trembling. Whispering. Fond. Calculated. Textured. Soulful. Soaring. Expansive. Relentless. All-encompassing. Jon Hopkins' Immunity is an astonishingly well-crafted album that is simply a blessing to hear.

AlunaGeorge disappoint with their full-length debut, Body Music. The record gets off to a strong start with the mellow Outlines gentling pushing things before the duo launch themselves full swing into breakout hit, the uncanny, aptly-named You Know You Like It. Followed by singles Attracting Flies and Your Drums, Your Love, and then Kaleidoscope Love, it means four of the first five songs on the album are tracks listeners are more than familiar with. Even if most of them are great, they're nothing new which perhaps does hold the album back a little. Music has come a fair way over the past year or so, and their heightened attention as a result of their You Know You Like It EP meant people were looking for them to move some way too - I know I was. Bad Idea is the first time I begin to notice how similar all of George's productions are - it seems like every other track begins with a hyper-pitched voice sample, for example. Aluna's voice strangely draws you in, but I maintain it isn't strong enough to hold its own. The pair have figured out how to get the balance right on track, and then more or less duplicated the process over and over until they've ended up with an over-long sub-par release. There are some anomalies, of course - Lost & Found is ridiculously catchy and Just A Touch is still one of their best songs. On the whole, it is really nice-sounding pop music that is easy on the ears, it's just that there has been no growth since prior releases, despite the huge change in context, and their debut is too drawn out and too similar throughout.

Robert Glasper’s well-honed skill as a jazz pianist is the common ground that holds his Robert Glasper Experiment’s album Black Radio together. It’s his influence that allows the music to flow through different grounds of black music, bridging that gap between jazz and soul, hip-hop and R’n’B in the most tangible of ways. The flesh of each track is well-tendered too. After Lift Off sets the tone, or rather the free, room-for-growth state of mind, Mic Check strikes an early moment of genius with a sound collage of ad-libs as his guests – yet to perform – test the recording equipment. Erykah Badu is one such voice, who helps construct a wonderful single in the form of the deeply heartfelt Afro Blue, followed by Lalah Hathaway on Cherish The Day, which features the most wonderful sax solo. The hip-hop on the album strikes the areas you’d expect, with Lupe Fiasco and Yasiin Bey (FKA Mos Def) going over bars in the vein of what they’ve experienced before, while providing the political-socio commentary that would be expected of them. Bilal sings between Lupe’s verses, and makes some other appearances too, but it’s a pleasure to hear Yasiin Bey sing as well as rap. Another highlight is the soft, soulful and wooing Ah Yeah, where Musiq Soulchild and Chrissette Michele exchange harmonies. It ends with something of a wild card as the Robert Glasper Experiment go all vocoder on Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit, ending the romp on a high.

Whenever Rashad Becker is mentioned, his vocation as a professional, and exceptional, mastering and sound engineer is too. This does have some bearing in his productions - he has a keen interest in the nature of sounds, as opposed to songs, and the way in which we experience sound. One thing I note from his interview with Robert Henke is his contempt for ‘music-hating environments’, such as cars or perhaps on gym playlists on iPods or whatever. As I type this on a train, I think about how different Traditional Music of Notional Species Vol. I sounded in my bedroom, from speakers and subwoofer instead of 3.5mm-jack headphones. It’s certainly a weird and wonderful, unique and memorable experience in either setting. There are two parts, Dances and Themes, each split into four acts. Themes is more drawn-out in nature, with sprawling drones and foreboding ambience, jumping from subtle to bludgeoning on a whim. Dances is concerned with the atomic, breaking things into every little motion and countermotion, and it feels as if the music is physically attempting to talk here, instead of simply conveying communication. I’ve dodged what the music actually sounds like here, mainly because it’s so difficult to describe. All I will say is close your eyes, imagine the underbelly of a futuristic city, neither utopic nor dystopic, simply really, really busy. The bustling cars in the sky greet constructions and there is a lot of noise, largely because everything is digital and robotic and completely driven by sound, as opposed to vision, as if every car used SONAR bleeps and screeches. If you follow a frequency far enough, there’s no telling where it might take you.