​This seven-piece ensemble hails from Seattle and for the last seven (or so) years have been putting out some of the most soulful and sophisticated music of this decade. Their sophomore album, The Dip Delivers, shows their commitment to celebrating as well as continuing the tradition of soul music that was forged in the mid-20th century. There are no frills when it comes to the band’s make up or recording style, just pure musicianship and passion poured into each track.
 
The album opens with soaring vocals from front man, Tom Eddy. The old school vocal flare cuts through each track on the album with the help of the analog grit as the album was recorded directly to tape by Eddy and lead guitarist, Jacob Lundgren. These two along with Brennan Carter on trumpet, Levi Gillis on tenor sax, Evan Smith on baritone sax, Jarraed Katz on drums, and Mark Hunter on bass met at the University of Washington in the jazz program. The dedication to the preservation and subsequent reinvention of this timeless sound was the foundation of this project that has grown into the sound we hear today.
 
The album winds through heavy swing, funk, doo-wop, R&B, and other classic sounds creating an album that fits the ear of any who give it the time. “Advertising” brings a strong presence through organ and guitar riffs that take up the foreground. This is a departure from the usual horn-heavy sound that comes from the “Honeynut Horns.”
 
We cool down next with “Adeline.” The smooth vocal harmonies call back to the golden age of doo-wop in the 1950’s. The seemingly simple form of the song is finessed by Eddy and his ability to stretch time while molding his melodies and exploring the pocket laid down by Katz and Hunter in the rhythm sections.
 
“Atlas,” “Slow Sipper,” and “Spiderweb” are The Dip in all their glory. These mid-tempo hits dig deep into the the mellow and ragged groove of this album. Each selection has the opportunity to explore some level of space, grit, and soul.
 
“Starcastle,” feels like a return home. Since first their self-titled freshman album, the backbone of the band has been infectious horn backgrounds and the ability to shift time on a dime. Opening with a swing horn melody, the guitar then takes the reins while the groove transforms into funk with horn stabs placed perfectly behind the beat.
 
The Dip is refreshing. They have embraced the organic sound of their instruments and bring a level of precision and musicianship to them that creates an individual sound necessary for the emotion felt in this new take on an old school sound. The careful study of the soul tradition of yesterday has allowed The Dip to reach a new audience and new generation of soul fans today.

​In the foot-hills of Bloomington, Indiana sits the University of Indiana and one of the most renowned university music programs in the world at the Jacobs School of Music. Durand Jones relocated to this thriving mid-western college town in 2012. Arriving with his alto saxophone, he was unaware that in four years he would be the lead singer of one of the deepest soul bands on the scene today. Fast forward to 2019 and fresh off the release of their debut full-length project, Durand Jones & The Indications are in the middle of a world tour across the US and Europe.
 
What was meant to be a one-and-done recording project steadily grew gaining traction through the power of word of mouth and with the help of independently owned record stores. It is an appropriate organic growth for this band root in such a warm organic sound. As their bio states, “Durand Jones & the Indications aren’t looking backwards.” The spirit of ‘70s soul is clearly there, but these like-minded-twenty-somethings have their feet planted firmly in the present with pop and hip hop influences shining through their conspicuously crafted sound.
 
The five-piece band is rounded out with drummer Aaron Frazer, guitarist Blake Rhein, bassist Kyle Houpt, and organist Justin Hubler. Having all studied audio engineering at Indiana, the band was able to really focus their attention on how to create a sound that pushes soul music forward.
 
“Morning in America” opens the album and sets the tone with messages spanning from the opioid crisis to inequity in Detroit. It is a dark opening for an album brimming with sweetly soaked timbres.
 
“Don’t You Know,” the project’s lead single, packs a heavy vocal punch. Compared to their debut EP, the group veered towards a more vocal-based sound for this latest project. Falsettos and rich four-part harmonies are packed into very corner.
 
Tracks like “How Can I Be Sure” and “Sea Gets Hotter” provide further evidence of the vocal prowess Jones and the band bring to this album. Elevated melodies are the centerpiece of these tunes, however a piano breakdown in “How Can I Be Sure” is a dramatic flare whose power is felt strongly in the track.
 
As the band makes their way across the country this spring and summer it is inevitable that they will leave a memorable impression. Their dedication to their sound and the craft of songwriting can be felt on this most recent record. It is a collection of sounds that invites their audiences to unite in a shared sense of positivity towards the present. It is an invitation to push forward in a time where getting lost in wishing for a romanticized version of the past is easy to do. 

​I am a sucker for the organ.
 
The Delvon Lamarr Organ Trio was formed in 2015 and has been blending soul, jazz, R&B, and rock seamlessly ever since. The group is based in Seattle and just celebrate the one-year anniversary of their debut LP released in March of 2018, Close But No Cigar. The group featuring Jimmy James on guitar, David McGraw on drums, and Lamarr on the B-3.
 
Like almost all of Colemine’s roster, The Delvon Lamarr Organ Trio has done their research giving the legends of this music the necessary level of study for their own performances to be both a history lesson and fresh interpretation of the genre’s tradition.
 
There is a clear versatility to the group. Both bebop and more gospel-based tunes hit hard throughout the album. On the gospel side of the sound, the influence of Booker T Jones and The Reverend Al Green are explicitly celebrated on the tracks “Little Booker T” and “Al Greenery.”
 
While study and imitation play a large role in this album and this trio’s sound, their versatility extends to tracks such as “Between the Mayo and Mustard.” This is one of many moments on this project where the individuality of this group is highlighted. This vamp-based jam is rich with percussive licks from all members while Lamarr explores the pluckier high end of his instrument.
 
“Raymond Brings the Greens” trudges forward with a dirty solo from James cementing the clear chemistry between the trio. Lamarr lays a solid and lush foundation for the guitarist to dance over while McGraw never ceases to leave the pocket.
 
In my opinion, the organ is an instrument that brings life to music unlike any instrument–it quite literally breathes. What is so special about the organ is how its addition to any musical setting instantly transforms a piece into a piece about timbre. The organ has such a vast possibility of sounds that an organ trio becomes a ballet between the overtones and timbres of the instruments involved. It is a beautifully colorful sound that is easy to get engrossed in.
 
Close But No Cigar is a masterful exploration of this classic trio format. While they don’t reinvent the wheel, Lamarr and his trio do drive this vehicle with an undeniable swagger.

You look on stage to see a piano, bass, and drums and one might immediately expect the classic sound of your traditional jazz piano trio. When Dawn of Midi takes the stage this instrumentation is flipped on its head completely shattering expectations and pushing the definition of jazz. The trio pushes the sound so far that the freedom and fluidity typically associated with jazz music is completely restricted with robotic precision and incredible sequencing of varying rhythmic permutations flowing through the three musicians.
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Dysnomia is the group’s second album and garnered great praise after it’s release in 2015. It's just under four-years later and every play through this album feels fresh and gripping. In order to fully appreciate the meticulous planning and composition that went into this project you need to carve out 46-minutes devoted to following the complex and hypnotizing journey through the entirety of this album.
 
The album has such a distinct pulse throughout, yet it is almost impossible to ever know where the downbeat of each measure passes. The looping in each instrument often subtlety shifts dramatically changing the pulse and underlying time feel.
 
Opening with “Io,” the bass creeps into the picture followed closely by the piano’s muted strings. While only a trio, the group finds ways to push the limits of their sound. Throughout the entirety of the project each instrument it can be heard as a drum. For the bass and piano to be used melodically is a rarity. “Io” morphs into a complex rhythmic cocktail that gives a feeling of heavy swing near its completion by shifting accents among the given loops.
 
While each track is a cohesive and complete thought, the album plays as one long seamless journey. It is an international journey–while based in Brooklyn currently, the trio with members whose origins are Pakistan (Qasim Naqvi, drums), India (Aakaash Israni, Bass), Morocco (Amino Belyamani, piano). The heavy utilization of polyrhythmic ideas feels as though it potentially stems from this cultural make up.
 
From “Io” the band maneuvers through four more tracks before “Ymir.” The beginning of this, the sixth track on the project, is the end of a first act. The band has gradually made their way to one of the more simple rhythms and certainly some of the most thin sounds thus far. The first 20-seconds of “Ymir are a deep breath in before a a new theme emerges introduced with ringing piano harmonics and an arpeggiated bass line. The theme of the high harmonic seems to carry through until we are met with a familiar deep, low, and wide piano attack that calls back to the opening moments of the album.
 
Dysnomia is unlike anything I have ever heard. The band is currently on a hiatus as the trio all pursue individual projects. The hiatus is on the heels of a 4-year span touring with this album and, from what I have read, the album can only hope to mimic what the live experience with Dawn of Midi is like. 

I first encountered this album right after its re-release on Erased Tapes back in the winter of 2017, but took it for a brand new release. It wasn’t until I dug deeper into the history of the ensemble that I learned of their leader, Simon Jeffes and co-founder Helen Liebmann and this orchestra that toured and recorded extensively between 1972 and 1997. I was all the more intrigued as their sound, even in 2017, seemed fresh and beautiful in a uniquely simple form.
 
The concept for PCO came to Jeffes in a hallucination caused by food poisoning in France in 1972. A poem came from this hallucination with a message of embracing the quality of randomness in our lives. He translated this message as one of acceptance, and carried this message as the driving force of PCO.
 
Jeffes, a classically trained guitarist, composer, and arranger, saw similarities in the limitations that came with the classical music and rock genre tags but admired the freedom within the folk music idiom. Embracing a message of randomness and acceptance, the sound of PCO is often hard to label. Within their albums, certainly within Union Café, a laundry list of influences, cultures, and genres are explored. Most often this exploration is heard within the context of a minimalist and folk aesthetic.
 
Union Café was the avant-pop band’s final of five full-length studio releases before Jeffes death in 1997. “Scherzo And Trio” opens the album sounding like a boogie-woogie tune with an added layer of grit. Harmonically this open slides in and out of dissonance without loosing its “chug-a-chug-a” push.
 
“Nothing Really Blue” is one of the more tantalizing tunes on the album. Opening with pizzicato strings and piano, a soft vamp begins to grow. A melody is sounded from the piano finding a way to sound like a blues riff, pop song, and spiritual all melded into a single phrase. The soft energy manages to keep your attention for all five-minutes of the tune hinting at a crescendo at times, but remaining comfortably in a somewhat reserved pocket.
 
In “Organum” the presence of folk roots is strong with a clear influence of irish jig tradition. There is a nostalgic tint to the track that I attribute to the sort of neo-renaissance-sounding accompaniment to the melody. It is a polished take on an old-fashioned sound heightening the sense of timelessness that seems to come with every release from PCO.
 
The spirit of this phenomenal band is carried on with Arthur Jeffes, the son of the late PCO founder. Arthur was the catalyst behind the rerelease of Union Café viewing this final release as PCO’s “least exposed” album due to, perhaps, poor timing. At the time it’s original release it was only availbe on CD–the digital marketplace for music was not in-place and the vinyl renaissance was still some years from kicking in. Erased Tapes helped to spark a renewed love of this important collection of musicians from the latter half of the 20th-century. With help of Arthur Jeffes, the polished, eclectic, and unassuming genius of Penguin Café Orchestra remains strong today. 

Originally published in On Queue December Pt. 1, 2018
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It is closing in on its 1-year anniversary, but the rich combination of organic and electronic that takes the reigns of Nils Frahm’s first major release since 2015 continues to fascinate my ear with the incredible proficiency in both production and minimalist composition that Frahm brings to the table.
 
The quality of recorded sound is the driving interest for Nils Frahm and has been since his very early introduction to music. His father was a photographer designing record covers while Frahm was immersing himself in the music of classical and contemporary composers. This duality that tugged on him for his early development as a musician shaped his unconventional approach to the piano sound which features an eccentric combination of classical and electronic music.
 
After his 2015 release, Solo, Frahm embarked on a mission to create a studio room from his dreams. The location was in the Funkhaus, a well known 1950s-era recording complex that sat in East Berlin. For two years he outfitted this with the gear that was most important to his sound–an arsenal of pianos, synthesizers, strings, percussion, and even down to a custom bult mixing desk. Funkhaus became a place where Frahm’s interest with the quality of sound could blossom through the various natural reverb chambers and vintage gear available to him.
 
The result was All Melody. While it sits in one’s ear with a somber tone, there is never an overwhelming sadness felt. The rhythmic energy in synths and voices heard from one track to the next keeps the energy moving forward. Despite the seemingly disparate timbres for the main voices in the project, All Melody is a structurally sound and cohesive body of work.
 
The most killer track to my ear is “A Place.” For me, this represents the most effective and musical use of delay I have ever heard and I have a hard time believing it will be dethroned anytime soon. When played through a pair of nice monitors or headphones, the incredible sonic architecture is put into full perspective. The pulse of the track is an articulate synth chord that is panned right of center. As this chord progression continues the layers of delay grow to populate the rest of the sonic field in a rhythmic and meticulously charted manner. Vocal textures join the rounded tone of the synth as well as a harmonized and syncopated flute melody.
 
“My Friend the Forrest” recalls back to the impressive catalogue of solo piano works Frahm has released in his career. The piano, muted and surrounded by a subtle but expansive blanket of reverb, speaks with the voice of both the stings and the hammers and levers. It is a texture that gives a new and warm life to the piano. Melodically, this track is oozing with soul and a bluesy riff that repeats throughout the song.  
 
The beauty of this album is in the fine details. Frahm knows how to used recording technology and the mechanics of his instruments to his advantage making somewhat simple musical ideas come to life with intense emotion and detail. Unrelenting exploration of space and texture have lead to this beautifully ambitious release that has aged well this year.

​The album opens with oscillating string chords immediately hypnotizing the listener. We are effortlessly pulled in by the spell of this Brooklyn native.
 
Garzón-Montano was raised in a family with French-Colombian heritage and with strong musical roots. His mother a member of Philip Glass’ ensemble, he was encouraged from an early age to find his instrumental voice. Starting with violin, Garzón-Montano grew to learn drums, guitar, keyboards, and an array of other instruments while studying at Laguardia High School for the performing arts.
 
Jardín is packed with colorful arrangements that are as diverse in their sonic make up as the cultural and artistic makeup of Garzón-Montano’s upbringing. The delicate and lush opening statement of “Trial” leads into the lead single of the album, “Sour Mango.” The combination of lyrical and harmonic complexity creates intriguing timbres that propel, not only this track, but the entire album forward.  
 
Thick and blocky vocal harmonies meander effortlessly throughout the album. “Long Ears” features background vocal runs that flow in front of the busy and percussive groove ending in an expressive outro with a choir of vocal layers coming from Garzón-Montano. “Crawl” and “My Balloon” feature two of my favorite bass grooves on the album. Both syncopated groves support stylistically disparate tracks– “Crawl” a danceable and more traditional neo-soul song and “My Balloon” a sonically explorative experience grounded in a hip hop driven feel.
 
It is rare when such a wide range of influences and experimentation can come together so cleanly to create a cohesive final product. The common thread is the distinctive vocals and vocal mixing that sweetens these tracks that carry a deeper meaning often relating to the topic of isolation.
 
In an interview with HNHH in 2017, Garzón-Montano says, “I wanted to make music that would remind people how beautiful life is – how delicate their hearts are. A Garden is full of life, and growth, and beauty. I named the album Jardín hoping for it to create a space for healing when people put it on. I’ve always wanted to make music that is healing, comforting, and funky.”  Just as if you were to look at a vibrant flower bed, the variety of color and presence of fragile, but beautiful life shines through. 

The legend of Quasimoto began in the year 2000 with the release of The Unseen. The mind behind this now legendary series of albums is none other than producing legend and Stones Throw stalwart, Madlib.
 
It is said that the producer decided to rap over some of his own beats one day, but was not satisfied with the sound of his voice. He took his beats, slowed them down, rapped slowly, and then sped them back up to speed producing the distinctive high pitched voice of this notorious alter ego often referred to as “Lord Quas.” The album title for the debut release in 2000 was a reference to the fact that the MC was meant to be invisible. Soon, however, an animated character drawn by Madlib and Jeff Jank became the infamous face of this character.
 
Over a span of 13-years, three Quasimoto albums were released with the latest release, Yessir, Whatever, coming in 2013. The album serves as a compilation of songs that were released on rare and out-of-print vinyl and produced throughout roughly a 12-year-period. The character of Lord Quas is a menacing one meant to represent a bombastic and larger-than-life gangster. Violence and drugs are frequent topics in Lord Quas’ verses even though their references are sometimes thought to be a parody.
 
A characteristic element of all Quasimoto releases is the back-and-forth between the high pitched voice of Quas and Madlib’s true voice. On “Broad Factor,” the opening track of Yessir, Whatever, we hear this interchange with Quas on the verses and Madlib on the hook. Originally released in 2004, this track is a cover of “Nod Factor” by Mad Skillz but sexualized in only the way Lord Quas could get away with. Biz Markie’s “Pickin’ Boogers” and Showbiz & AG’s “Fat Pockets” were also graced with this Lord Quas treatment on earlier releases.
 
The psychedelic and magic mushroom infused journey through the mind of Quasimoto with tracks like “The Front,” where Madlib calls out those who look for shortcuts and try to weasel their way into his circle for personal gain. He’s been paying his dues and mastering his craft for years only to be met with snakes in the game.
 
“Planned Attack” gained the most traction on the album as the lead single. Lord Quas lays down the facts on how he and Madlib are the hottest duo on the scene putting other MC’s careers in danger. The track serves almost as a “who’s who” through many different era’s of hip hop with samples from names such as Busta Rhymes, Jeru the Damaja, Bran Nubian, and Big Daddy Kane.
 
The legend of the elusive Lord Quas remains intact to this day as fans and followers of the underground hip-hop scene wait patience for the MC's next coveted appearance. 

[Originally published in On Queue October Pt. 1]
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If you are ever given the opportunity to see a Peanut Butter Wolf live DJ set, don’t hesitate and immediately get tickets. There are few people who have the ability to turn DJing, often viewed as a passive action with little skill other than buttons needed, into an eclectic display of music history and musicality. Once I saw Peanut Butter Wolf live, I went home and drove into any recorded set I could possibly find. I stumbled across one done for Bandcamp Weekly earlier this year. The set featured many new and old gems signed to Stones Throw Records including a single from a then upcoming release by Jerry Paper. October 12th was a long awaited release day for me and Like a Baby did not disappoint.
 
Born Lucas Nathan, Jerry Paper is based in LA and draws on his experience moving from New York city to the West Coast while exploring themes of “the endless human cycle of desire and satisfaction.” The laid back and low volume album bristling with wavy synthesizers and reverb soaked vocals is co-produced by Matty Tavares, a member of BADBADNOTGOOD. Those familiar with the jazz fusion and free improvisational style of this band and Tavares voice on keys and synths will feel right at home.
 
There is an undeniable dreamy timbre through the entire album. It is a pleasant blend of psychedelic rock meeting wistful synth textures of electronic music. For lovers of lo-fi, there is more than enough to enjoy. The album begins as though it is powering on. “Your Cocoon” (the single featured in Peanut Butter Wolf’s set) climbs up to speed into a wash of funky drums and plucky guitar accompaniments.
 
“A Moment” has an undeniable bossa nova flavor to it made clear through the driving brushes on drums and the silky background vocals. “My God,” another single from the project, is a melancholy meditation on the true importance of financial worth. Many of the narratives sung through the album are sometimes hard to decipher due to the unique and thick processing done to Jerry Paper’s deep vocals. This does nothing to take away from the album and adds a mystique that compliments the sound.
 
I feel like there is a definite embrace of what may be seen as “cheesy.” It is a quirky sound, but it is so refined and self-aware that it sets itself apart in its own category. The album is as pleasing to listen to as it is filled with deep commentary on the reality of our surroundings allowing the listener to sit back and relax or interact in a more thought provoking manner. It is a soft-rock masterpiece that has been well worth the wait.

Shigeto is, without a shred of doubt, one of the most important musical idols/inspirations in my life. From a musical and production standpoint his sound is intricate and enticing, but his pull from my perspective comes more from his overall career and how he has structured his “business.” I see all of his endeavors as serving a larger goal of giving back to the communities that have fostered his development. These endeavors have mainly revolved around the Detroit and Ann Arbor, MI scenes and, being a fellow Ann Arbor native, I feel incredibly fortunate to have benefitted from many of his projects.
 
Most recently, the Portage Garage Sounds label (founded by Zach Saginaw aka Shigeto, and his brother Ben Saginaw aka Kenjiro) residency on Thursday in Ann Arbor has been a must-go for my friends and me. A chance to unwind, sit with friends, dance, or observe some incredible DJing chops, it is a perfect example of how seriously Shigeto takes cultivating and curating a thriving scene for a community close to him to enjoy.
 
No Better Time Than Now was my introduction to the work of this producer, drummer, and DJ despite it being his third full-length release. The myriad of influences fly by in a dizzying wave as this album progresses. It disorienting in the most positive sense of the word and all stems from his unbelievable grasp of rhythm and time. “First Saturn Ring” acts almost as a powering on sequence, a feeling made stronger by the slowly intensifying synth arpeggios and soulful chord changes. After booting up, “Detroit Part 1” sets a pace of driving sounds and beats that are carried through the rest of the album.
 
A new world and new structure is built with each track often with light and subtle touches of beauty. This process is no more present than it is in “Miss U” and “Safe In Here.” The most beautiful track to my ear is “Silver Lining.” A grove is slowly built behind textured piano and kalimba samples. The rich, tape soaked sound hugs the listener bringing to life the portrayal of a silver lining shining through.
 
The variety within Shigeto’s catalogue never fails to amaze me. I can always find my way towards new elements to tune into within his music and there is something to fit every mood. But like I said, if there is one thing I take away from Shigeto it is how he has built his career and how he chooses to give back. Thanks, Shigeto, and see you on Thursday. 

I’m a sucker for music that comes from visual artists. The way I almost always hear music and write music is grounded heavily in visual imagery. I think this draws me to artists whose creativity lies in both of these worlds. I found Tycho’s music at a time where my desire to seriously pursue music grew and my awareness of what was sonically inspiring to me was consistently at a heightened state. Awake, the third studio album for Tycho, became influential in the growth of my understanding production methods, sound design, and generally my preferred musical aesthetic.
 
Scott Hansen is the mind behind Tycho, and ISO50 for his photographic and design pursuits. The most striking aspect of his music will always remain the effortless blend of organic sounds, vintage hardware, and modern aesthetic into a singular and unique voice. It is this well documented post-rock and ambient mixture that feeds into the driving bass and rhythm under colorful and broad colors and textures.
 
There are a few qualities of this album that standout to me as being products of Tycho’s experience with visual art–the awareness and use of texture along with the uncanny sense of space and depth throughout the record. There is never an element out of place or jarring with entrances or exits. Everything has a place and a role in the building of tension or the changing of perspective. “Awake,” the opening and title track for this album, is a perfect demonstration of the masterful build Hansen can conjure in this album. The way the album is mixed, the listener is able to enjoy the intimacy of the drums and guitar attacks while simultaneously gazing in the deep landscape created by beautiful reverb.
 
“Dye” slowly crawls towards euphoria as Hansen and his band reach a climactic arrival in the final minutes of the track. With a strategic thinning of texture before this moment, the arrival of echoing guitar chords carries a surprising amount of emotional weight.
 
I hear the opening of “See” in a similar light and quality as the opening of “Awake.” There is the mesmerizing duality of intimacy and vast open space heard with the opening and echoing guitar notes. The claps that begin the track carry with them a slight grit or crackle that settles in perfectly to the clean and pure mix that follows. It is a moment when the seamless connection between organic sounds and modern aesthetics is clearly exposed for the listener to enjoy.
 
This is one of the first albums where the importance of listening to a project front to back struck me. In a time where music is created to fit a model that is geared towards on demand streaming and short attention spans, the message an artist is trying to convey across an entire project is often lost. Each of the eight tracks on Awake can stand alone as a beautifully crafted song, but there is certainly a macro sense of build and development felt when these track are woven together. It’s beautiful, it’s colorful, and it’s a strikingly emotional release that has the ability to invoke strong imagery while you listen. Close your eyes and enjoy. 

​Across all Ghostly International releases, a common trait is an unbelievable attention to the quality of sound. There is so much to learn from the mixing techniques of the roster of Ghostly artists and each of their individual styles. Lusine’s Sensorimotor has emerged, to me, as one of the most compelling releases on this label for its meticulous attention to detail.
 
Jeff Mcllwain has released many projects for Ghostly since 2003, but this latest release seems to lean in a more meditative direction, almost as if beautifully suspended in time. “Canopy” is the stunning opening track to this album. It begins with a slow fade in of bells and music box chimes creating a shimmering cloud. As if born from this cloud, a pulsing and gritty melody appears. It is an almost five-minute build that leads into my favorite track on the album.
 
“Ticking Hands,” is more rhythmically driven than the opening statement from Sensorimotor, but presents an equally visceral profile. The featured vocalist on this track is Mcllwain’s wife, Sarah. Through the processed vocals and somewhat sporadic melodic plucks of the track, a story of separation appears. The couple wrote the track together “as a king of catharsis of the time we spend apart when I’m touring.”
 
The driving rhythmic pulse continues for the remainder of the album with a few exceptions such as “Chatter” that hark back to the opening thoughts of the album. “Won’t Forget” reintroduces a heavy groove after “Chatter” with masterful vocal chops and a chord progression that leaves a pop-influenced silhouette on this attention grabbing track. “Flyaway” is a thumping and pulsing synth anthem that is paced perfectly, gradually adding layers that compliment an already captivating rhythmic foundation.
 
I discovered Lusine completely by accident and I am forever grateful for this discovery. The Texas-raised and Seattle-based musician can evoke personality and emotion from the warm melodies and arsenal of electronic tools at his disposal. The most compelling elements of his previous releases seem to have converged on this 2017 release finding the perfect balance of experimentation and strong musical reflexes. 

​The Menahan Street Band was my introduction to Daptone Records. Back in 2013 during a deep YouTube tangent, I stumbled upon a video of Donald Glover/Childish Gambino at Amobea Records going through what was in his record bag on that day. He pulled the debut album from this Brooklyn-born band. Thank you, Mr. Glover, for opening up this whole new world for me.
 
There is a chance you have heard The Menahan Street Band without realizing it. The classic soul sound has drawn the attention of some the most active hip-hop artists on the scene right now. The likes of Jay-Z, Kendrick Lamar, 50 Cent, and Kid Cudi have all pulled samples from the band’s two full-length studio albums.
 
The band is comprised of members from the Dap-Kings, El Michels Affair, Antibalas, and The Budos Band–all members of the Daptone family. It is a classic set up of guitar, bass, drums, organ, trumpet, and saxophone playing loop-based grooves in the bedroom of a Brooklyn apartment on Menahan Street. The band is not trying to reinvent the wheel. This is a sound that is battle-tested and has survived all the way to the new vinyl age we are living in right now. The Menahan Street band is a collection of incredibly talented musicians that are playing a familiar sound, but they do it with incredible swagger and prowess.
 
Make The Road By Walking strikes a beautiful balance between powerful backbeats and bass lines, striking melodies, and quirky sense of humor. “Tired of Fighting” begins with drums and congas in a laid back pocket setting the gritty funk tone of this track along with woozy guitar slides that appear throughout much of the album. Dave Guy on trumpet (who you now see playing with The Roots on tour and every night on Jimmy Fallon) and Leon Michels on saxophone provide the buttery harmonized melodies on top of this punchy rhythm section.
 
“Home Again!” is a cheerful soul track with an infectious bounce. The warmth of the changes, instrumentation, and analog tape all combine for this highlight of the album. “Going The Distance” plays in my ear with a slight sense of comedy. It begins with the dark funky feel that is heard through the majority of the album. As the song develops, a triumphant bass line and horn crescendo lead into a sixteenth note based groove that gives off vibes of something like the Rocky movies to my ear.
 
Simplicity is the key with this band and this album. The power of good chord changes and simple patterns that are played with unbelievable feel is put on full display. There are no frills with instrumentation or recording tricks, just good songwriting. After their second LP, the band has gone on to back other vocalists on Daptone Records, but I’m crossing my fingers a new full-length MSB project is in the works. The world needs it. 

​One of the vocalist the Menahan Street Band went on to work with was Charles Bradley. The incredible story of this soul journeyman unfortunately came to an end in the fall of 2017 when the singer lost his battle with stomach and liver cancer. Daptone released Black Velvet in November of 2018 as a compilation of the stray tracks that accumulated over the decade the singer spent with the label and with the Menahan Street Band backing him.
 
It was an incredible case of right time, right place for Bradley who got his big break in his mid-50s. He grew up in a house stricken with poverty and neglect. He worked many odd jobs throughout his life across the entire country, but never left his love of singing. He sang in many small venues under the name “Black Velvet” as a James Brown impersonator. In 2002, Bradley had made his way to New York right as Daptone and their revivalist style were hitting their stride. Bradley introduced himself to co-founder Gabriel Roth and the rest is history.
 
Time and time again on his albums, Bradley effortlessly turns the pains and sadness in his life into powerful and heart-wrenching music. Yet, one of the more memorable moments on this latest release is the voiceless “Black Velvet.” Acting as what feels like a tribute, the tune spans three and a half minutes and searches for words the entire time. A guitar with a heavy level of tremolo meanders through the whole tune, almost like a weeping melodic replacement for the lost member of the group.
 
“(I Hope You Find) The Good Life” is a noticeable departure from the usual pained and weathered tone of the narrative and voice of Bradley. The singer pleads with a lost lover who he needs to let go of spending much of the song simply talking to this person.
 
Neil Young’s “Heart of Gold” makes an appearance on the album, but with a new coat of paint. The horn section takes control of this classic tune turning it into a driving soul track. It’s moments like this that are both the beauty and slight downfall of this album. The nature of the compilation album allows us to see the development of his style while signed to Daptone, but also creates a somewhat disjointed mix of tunes.
 
I wish I had the opportunity to see Bradley in concert. Even in interviews and videos you can immediately tell that his true energy and spirit of this music was only on full display in the live setting. This tribute album is a wonderful celebration of a man who never lost sight of the true happiness singing and being on stage brought him.

​In Yorba, the word Akokán translates to “from the heart.” If there has been any thread between the Daptone records I’ve described thus far, I think “from the heart” may perfectly describe it. Then it is without surprise that one of the newest editions to Daptone Records has created a sizable buzz among their listeners, including a Grammy nomination for Orqesta Akokán’s debut LP.
 
The album’s driving force is its vocalist, Jose “Pepito” Gomez along with the producer, Jacob Plasse and arranger, Mike Eckroth. Unlike most of the other releases on the label, Daptone made a road trip to the band’s home turf in Havana, Cuba and to EGREM recording complex and the Areito Studio to record the album. The spirit of analog recording is certainly preserved at the national record label of Cuba. The studio was founded in 1964 and had a complete monopoly on music production in the country for roughly its first 20-years of operation. The result is the most extensive catalog of Cuban music in the world that is continuing to grow.
 
This is the first time the label has moved beyond the American roots of its traditional sound and homage to history. This new group is an amalgamation of Cuban musicians, many of who have lived through the period of Cuban music the album aims to emulate and preserve. The mambo tradition is alive and kicking with a lively percussive punch on this release.
 
A favorite of mine on the album is “La Cosa.” The rhythm section and horns each display their own aptitude while accompanying each other providing rhythmic stabs behind the melodies. When the trumpets step forward the saxophones join the congas and timbales and vice versa.
 
The arrangements by Eckroth are the glue of the entire album and are just plain stunning. Like I mentioned before, much of the band are veteran wind and rhythm players from some the legendary mambo bands of Cuba, but there are a few young players from New York as well. Certainly these players are incredibly well versed in mambo music, but there is always the risk of conflicting sounds and styles due to the geographical and generational differences. The listeners, and for that matter the musicians, have no time to contemplate this as the arrangements come at you with such energy and power that the 40-minutes the album lasts flies by with infectious joy.
 
I know very little about the history and tradition of Cuban music, but that takes nothing away from my experience with this album. I’m ready to dive into the roots of how we got to this album, the stories of the musicians in the orchestra, and the larger history of this music. Taking a risk and moving away from the American tradition for a moment was an extremely successful endeavor for Daptone. It is hard to think of a group and an album that better represents this unique label than Orquesta Akokán. 

​It is closing in on its 1-year anniversary, but the rich combination of organic and electronic that takes the reigns of Nils Frahm’s first major release since 2015 continues to fascinate my ear with the incredible proficiency in both production and minimalist composition that Frahm brings to the table.
 
The quality of recorded sound is the driving interest for Nils Frahm and has been since his very early introduction to music. His father was a photographer designing record covers while Frahm was immersing himself in the music of classical and contemporary composers. This duality that tugged on him for his early development as a musician shaped his unconventional approach to the piano sound which features an eccentric combination of classical and electronic music.
 
After his 2015 release, Solo, Frahm embarked on a mission to create a studio room from his dreams. The location was in the Funkhaus, a well known 1950s-era recording complex that sat in East Berlin. For two years he outfitted this with the gear that was most important to his sound–an arsenal of pianos, synthesizers, strings, percussion, and even down to a custom bult mixing desk. Funkhaus became a place where Frahm’s interest with the quality of sound could blossom through the various natural reverb chambers and vintage gear available to him.
 
The result was All Melody. While it sits in one’s ear with a somber tone, there is never an overwhelming sadness felt. The rhythmic energy in synths and voices heard from one track to the next keeps the energy moving forward. Despite the seemingly disparate timbres for the main voices in the project, All Melody is a structurally sound and cohesive body of work.
 
The most killer track to my ear is “A Place.” For me, this represents the most effective and musical use of delay I have ever heard and I have a hard time believing it will be dethroned anytime soon. When played through a pair of nice monitors or headphones, the incredible sonic architecture is put into full perspective. The pulse of the track is an articulate synth chord that is panned right of center. As this chord progression continues the layers of delay grow to populate the rest of the sonic field in a rhythmic and meticulously charted manner. Vocal textures join the rounded tone of the synth as well as a harmonized and syncopated flute melody.
 
“My Friend the Forrest” recalls back to the impressive catalogue of solo piano works Frahm has released in his career. The piano, muted and surrounded by a subtle but expansive blanket of reverb, speaks with the voice of both the stings and the hammers and levers. It is a texture that gives a new and warm life to the piano. Melodically, this track is oozing with soul and a bluesy riff that repeats throughout the song.  
 
The beauty of this album is in the fine details. Frahm knows how to used recording technology and the mechanics of his instruments to his advantage making somewhat simple musical ideas come to life with intense emotion and detail. Unrelenting exploration of space and texture have lead to this beautifully ambitious release that has aged well this year.

​Number eight. I remember being hipped to Vulfpeck in Sweetwaters Café in 2012 and since then time has flown by. It has been an extremely sonically rewarding experience to follow this band that has done so much for the community that I grew up in. They really have inspired a community and brought a new energy to the concept of the modern funk band. With their eighth studio release I feel a bit of nostalgic energy back towards the early days of the band with the four core members, especially Theo Katzman, having a more pronounced presence compared to some of their more recent releases.
 
The first four songs feature the vocal talents of Theo Katzman and cover the bases in terms of your “pop anthem subgenres:” we open with a quasi gospel rock feel in “Half of the Way,” an almost disco joint with “Darwin Derby,” a singer-songwriter vibe with “Lonely Town,” and a ballad with “Love is a Beautiful Thing.” This fourth track was originally featured on Katzman’s latest solo project, Heartbreak Hits.
 
The structure of Vulfpeck seems too simple to be so out of the ordinary. The band notably splits royalties evenly among all parties on original tunes and then has a more traditional payment structure for covers. Covers have become a staple of the ongoing Vulf project in both the album and live show setting. The band has often covered many songs on solo projects of Katzman and frequent collaborator, Joey Dosik.
 
There is an effortless sense of community that comes from this practice that is infectious when listening through headphones or live. The familiarity the musicians have with each other carries over into the audience filling the room with positive and comedic energy. Watching the progression of the band has meant seeing this energy skyrocket to an all-time high with this latest release.
 
The second half of the album feels like a window back into the early catalogue of Vulf. Basic band setups with drums, keys, and bass dominate this second half with whimsical melodies over heavy bass lines throughout. “Soft Parade” has a polyrhythmic, three-against-four feel in the bass that gives it some nastiness as I envision a carousel go ‘round and ‘round.
 
“Lost My Treble Long Ago” is the Joe Dart feature of the eighth studio release. Speed, agility, and precision–Dart is at his finniest on this heavy funk tune. “Disco Ulysses (Instrumental)” is perhaps a sneak peak at what is to come in 2019. As we saw with numbers like “My First Car” and “Christmas In LA,” Vulfpeck likes to draw out the life of a tune by releasing the instrumental before the vocal version. Both versions in all the cases of this strategy can stand alone as hits showing the talent level of the musicians associated with Vulf.
 
I’m absolutely a fanboy of this band. Driving way out of my way or planning trips to see this band or its members perform an unnecessary number of times is something I’m guilty of. But it is the energy I was talking about that keeps me coming back. When you are in a room with them or they are in your headphones you have no choice but to smile and nod your head. The music, the personalities, the cult following–Vulfpeck is the real deal and still feel as fresh and new as ever.

​A video that seems to always show up on my Facebook feed and suggested videos on YouTube is one by Vox called “How J Dilla humanized his MPC3000.” It must be my history on the internet that is feeding the algorithms, but I literally see this video 5-10 times a week on my feeds and, I’ll admit, I have a hard time not watching it every time it comes up.
 
The basic premise of the video is explaining how J Dilla’s main compositional tool, the MPC3000, shaped his sound and a generation of music to follow. One of the collaborators and producers that worked heavily with Dilla during this time was Madlib, the producer behind the cult classic Madvillainy record along with MC, MF Doom.
 
Released in early November of 2018, Madvillain Vol. 1 takes the idea of humanizing this style of production to an extreme level. Abstract Orchestra is a Hip-Hop Big Band from the United Kingdom that is steadily building a loyal and supportive fanbase. The group is led by saxophonist, Rob Mitchell and is dedicated to bringing a new energy to some of the most storied music in hip-hop’s canon.
 
This album comes on the heels of their summer 2017 release, Dilla, exploring the music of the legendary producer in the same manner they do with the music of this infamous duo. The group takes straight-ahead and modern arranging techniques and applies them to the loop-based music of Madvillain. The album begins with “Accordian,” an arrangement of one of the most popular tunes on the original album. It is a bouncy and bright take on a track that originally drags with a slumbering quality. A strong backbeat, swinging sax harmonies, and a muted trumpet solo add a jazz characteristic to the mix.
 
“Raid” has to be my favorite arrangement on the album. The opening sample features “Nardis” as played by the one and only, Bill Evans. After this opening statement, the magic of live ensemble looping kicks in. The ensemble bounces heavily in the pocket and with some incredible rhythmic accuracy. As the track wears on, the beautiful orchestration of the arrangement takes the foreground.
 
The lo-fi feeling that is so present throughout the entirety of the original project is lost with Abstract Orchestra’s interpretation. This is certainly not a negative. More than anything it is a reminder of the importance the technology Madlib used was to his signature sound. The power and precision that the musicians in this group play with deserves to be heard through the high quality and clarity of this mix.
 
As someone who is a sucker for quality big band arrangements, this album was an immediate purchase and addition to my collection. The somewhat sinister quality of the Madvillainy is kept, but with a new twinge of brightness and forward energy. Just as Dilla and Madlib humanized the technology behind their legendary sound, Abstract Orchestra is taking it another step further. Perhaps this step moves the music outside the immediate realm of hip-hop, but the swagger of their original source material is never out of site.

​I feel like I’ve heard Makaya McCraven’s name at least once a week for this entire calendar year, and rightfully so. It has been a busy year for the Chicago based drummer and producer.
 
Having gone to school in the Pioneer Valley of Massachusetts and being somewhat tuned in to the jazz scene there, the name of this extraordinarily original drummer was constantly being brought up. McCraven, while born in France, was raised in the Pioneer Valley where he was quickly noticed and mentored by some of the geniuses that reside in and around the campus of the University of Massachusetts Amherst. The community included the likes of Marion Brown, Archie Shepp, and Yusef Lateef.
 
It feels like a common story these days for jazz musicians and students of his generation and younger to have a love for jazz along with an obsession for hip hop and great MCs and producers. McCraven was no different. Wu-Tang Clan, A Tribe Called Quest, Busta Rhymes, Nas, and Biggie were frequently in McCraven’s ears as he was growing up. Perhaps it is a common listening pallet for those of his generation, but there are few that have been able to harness the characteristics of this genre crossover with such mastery as McCraven has done time and time again.
 
Where We Come From grew from a residency in London during October of 2017 and is a true testament to his musical roots. McCraven was joined on stage at London’s Total Refreshment Centre by Theon Cross (tuba), Joe Armon-Jones (keys), Nubya Garcia (saxophone), Kamaal Williams (keys) and Soweto Kinch (saxophone and voice). Two days of live shows were recorded and brought to be mixed and mastered for another two days in London. On the fifth and final day was “Fresh Roasted.” This event brought together some of London’s most prolific producers for a live beat-making and remixing showcase. The stems from the earlier performances were chopped up on stage and put on the album contributing to its certain mixtape feel.
 
The recordings were originally meant to be bonus material for McCraven’s second 2018 release, Universal Beings. Listening through to the result of this 5-day musical escapade, however, it becomes apparent how cutting any of the material from these London sessions would be nearly impossible.
 
McCraven is known for his jam session style of performing–he and the other musicians improvise the entire show resulting in mostly loop based material. It is a format that places the musicians at a heightened level of awareness that can be felt in any of his projects, and especially this one. The spirit of the live performance is preserved in this record. The energy level is almost overflowing from the first note and the audience voices their admiration for the group.
 
It is an extremely innovative record, sure, but with the musical background McCraven comes from it feels like this project has been living inside him for years. Where We Come From is a brilliant displayed of everything that is crucial to the musical identity of Makaya McCraven. 

​It spans only three medium-length tracks, but packs an emotional knockout punch.
 
Stuart Howard, known as Lapalux to most, was signed to electronic music juggernaut Flying Lotus’ label, Brainfeeder, in 2010 after a simple cold email to the producer and founder. Since then, a steady stream of EPs and remixes have been released with widespread praise for the precision and attention to detail Lapalux brings to the table.
 
The concept for this limited edition cassette revolves around loops. Lapalux likens the process of making a record to the cycle of life. He states making a record is “a never ending cycle and a slowly developing loop, much akin to the feeling of what it is to be alive, to die, and the afterlife.” The movements of this project fit this form: ABOVE represents life, BETWEEN represents death, and BELOW represents the afterlife.
 
A 4-track tape record is the instrument of choice. Lapalux has established a voice that is a masterful blend of analog and digital traditions. The whole project was recorded live and in one take with Lapalux manning the fader controls of the tape recorder. The tape contained loops of short music ideas he had recorded and then played back at varying speeds. The result is an intensely rich and introspective collection of ambient tracks.
 
“ABOVE” evolve the most of the three tracks–where we begin is far darker than where we end. In many ways this makes sense to me as from Lapalux’s perspective, or for anyone reading this post’s perspective for that matter, life is the the process where progression can be traced. We have no sense of “reality” for the other processes portrayed in this project.
 
The opening track begins with a single sound mimicking a tolling bell. It is gritty, dissonant, and dark, painting a grim picture of life from the early moments of the track. Slowly a repeating three-note figure fades in and the bell melts into the background become engulfed by the wet reverb of this repeating figure. I hear something a little different every time I listen–sometimes this figure is being sung by a choir, sometimes it feels like like a guitar, sometimes all I can hear is the static that sits in the background and the crackling tape noises. This is the core of beauty in minimal music for me– it’s a simple pattern and takes so many forms and the shift between these forms is triggered by such the smallest and, what feels like, most insignificant events. By the time “ABOVE” fades out, the opening bells have given way to a bright landscape of many open intervals and major sonorities.
 
In the final thirty-seconds, however, the faint sound of the bells grows once more leading into “BETWEEN” or the representation of death. This bell becomes analogous to a heartbeat as it opens with force and strength, but struggles to remain heard and beating at the end of its life.
 
“BETWEEN,” as one might predict, is rather dark. The sound of waves that have been pitched down create a sinister opening and are joined by a dark bass drone. A similar ambiguous choir-like instrument sets a new pattern of four notes that continue through the track. In perhaps an effort to simulate a rising towards heaven, sounds are added from the bottom up. The last layer to be populated is a shrill series of squeaks that grow in number and intensity during the last couple minutes of the track. As the track fades out the sound of waves remain. Somehow they have also risen now being played at a truer pitch painting a calm and peaceful scene to end this representation of death.
 
In my eyes, “BELOW” perfectly captures the uncertainty of the afterlife. The duration of this third and final track transforms these two locations into sonic modes, keeping one foot in each in a careful balancing act. It is a meditative uncertainty that seamlessly transitions between a muddied darkness and a warming glow. A loop of two synth chord stabs fades in with a trail of reverb following each attack. The initial attack is highlighted by a deep harmony, but what resonates are shimmering harmonics–immediately heaven and hell are presented as separate but linked modes competing for our attention.
 
As of late I have been fascinated by records that treat the mix or sound design as an instrument on a record. The quality of sound, mic placement, recording medium–the attention to these aspects of recorded and electronic music can sometimes make or break the musical content. Lapalux has taken an old and forgotten (to most) recording device building an album whose identity is directly connected to this piece of equipment. A profound and meaningful concept is combined with genius production yielding a powerful, while brief, spiritual window.
 

Son Lux has left me speechless time and time again. The Son Lux project consists of Rafiq Bhatia, Ian Chang, and Ryan Lott. Lott, a composer from Los Angeles, started the group and with the help of Bhatia (guitar) and Chang (drums), the group has forged a captivating sound blending electronica and rock beautifully.
 
In February of 2018, the group released their sixth full-length album, Brighter Wounds. A masterpiece in itself, the group treated this project as they have their other releases. This structure includes an intricate series of remixes and reworked versions of track and small motifs from their full-length releases.
 
The band writes, “Brighter Wounds is at the center of a body of work, where songs often appear in different iterations. This has been a trademark of the Son Lux project from the start to investigate songs from each album from multiple angles and present the results.” Yesterday’s Wake is the continuation of this investigation.
 
The EP consists of two reworks (All Directions II and All Directions III) as well as two brand new songs that are ripe with “DNA” from the album.
 
All Directions II builds slowly as a meditation on a single string melody. The texture grows and brightens as the short opening track evolves. It is an orchestral opening that borrows from the bands earlier work such as “No Crimes.”
 
“Delivery” is the first new full song on the EP and it is mesmerizing. A beautiful mix of electronic and acoustic instruments blends together creating a hypnotizing descending line. Tonally and metrically it is hard to place the tune from the beginning. Instead, Lott’s vocals lead us to a heavy drop of frantic and punchy drums laced with driving bass lines and synths. The dry and crisp mix on Lott’s vocals stands in the foreground of this maximalist texture.
 
“All Directions III” takes the same string melody from the opening of the EP and recontextualizes it. Slightly faster with a noticeably more jagged accompaniment, this rework feels like and interlude leading into the centerpiece and title track of the EP.
 
The fourth and final track “Yesterday’s Wake” is dripping with gospel influence. An organ is the main character from the beginning remaining steady with the chord progression and a flurry of distant drums and strings play in the periphery. Lott sings with a much more somber and reserved delivery–his words quiver with emotion as the final verse comes to a close.
 
Needless to say, if you are unfamiliar with Son Lux’s earlier work, start from the beginning. What makes this group so special to me is the way you can trace the progress and evolution of their sound through their structure of remixes and reworks. While it stands alone as a brilliant EP, its full brilliance is reviled when you are able to recognize the musical ideas that return from projects past to create this grand work of art.

​I think many people can vividly remember where they were during election night of 2016. No matter who you supported in the election, the outcome was a shock and if anyone tells you otherwise, they are lying. That feeling of shock heightens your senses and movements, conversations, sights, smells, pretty much everything presents itself with greater clarity and greater impact.
 
The day after the election, Gabriel Kahane boarded a trail in Penn Station in New York City. The Brooklyn musician has had a quiet but steady rise crafting a sound that falls somewhere in between classical art songs and pop music and has been often appeared in musical theater productions. The impressive list of collaborators listed on his website includes Sufjan Stevens, Andrew Bird, Blake Mills, Chris Thile, Punch Brothers, and Paul Simon. On November 10th, 2016, however, it was just Kahane boarding the Lake Shore Limited Amtrack line having left his phone and connection to the outside world at home and was ready to listen.
 
For the next 13 days, Kahane, traveled west across the country talking to his fellow travelers on the train. He would strike up conversations in the dining car and record these conversations from memory in a diary. By the end of his journey, he had collected 70,000 words of memories and conversations that turned into Book of Travelers.
 
Kahane’s tenor vocals wind up and down his range often soaring into falsetto. His piano language is, for me, the most intriguing part of the album. He is able to find a perfect balance of space, form, and instability. “November” opens the album and introduces the voice and piano as two forces often working in harmony, but a clear division and tension shines through in select and strategic moments perhaps mirroring the divisions so apparent in the country during the time of this journey. In the manner of a hymn, piano and voice move together in harmony in the early moments of this track. As early memories of this journey are sung by Kahane, unstable and dissonant colors are added to the hymn.
 
Kahane’s reflections range from the tragic story of a man paralyzed with fear of returning home in “Baltimore” to the bittersweet “Little Love,” where contemplations as to what is to come with the process of aging are old over a quietly swinging piano accompaniment. The album plays out as a collage of memories with Kahane drifting in and out of a conversational tone–the melodies can sometimes feel interrupted such as an incomplete memory.
 
A truly striking moment of Book of Travelers comes in “What If I Told You.” Unlike many of the other tracks on the album that shift between conversation and reflection, the song plays out almost as a verbatim conversation. Kahane is talking to a black woman named Monica. Her family is an upper class family that has ancestral ties to southern slavery. She is taking the train south to Mississippi to a funeral despite her sons’ fear of racial violence towards her in that region of the country.
 
It becomes clear to Kahane during his hours of conversation in the dining car that much of the division present in the country is manufactured online and by a class of media that benefits from the dramatic void being created by this separation. We are being taught to fear real connection and real conversation. Book of Travelers is a beautiful attempt at combating this trend as a raw and emotional portrait of the United States during a time of profound unrest.

​I look out my window and I know I have seen this day before: 45-degress, overwhelmingly grey, driving rain…I guess that is what happens when the list of places I have called home includes Michigan, New England, and the UK. Some Time entered my life on one of these gloomy days in March of 2018. Snow was falling but not sticking while I watched construction trucks slog back and forth out of my window at Amherst. The campus felt quiet despite this industrial noise and that left room for this album complete the painting that was this dreary day.
 
It opens with a sorrowful cry from the saxophone (Hayden Chisholm). In “Fata Morgana,” we are immediately thrown into an environment of melancholic beauty that does not cease until the record has completed. It is a sonic world where climatic tension and build is not common. Rather, the quiet meditation with each song exploration of this delicate sound unfolding naturally and peacefully.
 
Each track ebbs and flows with a comforting warmth and a frigid bite. “ ‘t Wout” opens with solo piano which trembles with a pensive energy before harmonized saxophones enter and driving pulse ensues.
 
There is an obvious and meticulous attention to detail with this album. Gooris, who is a rising star in the Belgian jazz scene, has channeled all of his energy into ensuring all aspects Some Time reflect the dream atmosphere created with the compositions. The pacing of the album’s track list, the aesthetic of the mix, and the impressionistic album artwork all convey homogenous bittersweet and hazy tone.
 
A tour de force on the album is “Rêver.” The opening saxophone solo leads into a response from the piano free in time before a simple bass line sets the tempo. The eight-minute track cycles through everything from improvised solos to almost chamber music-like lines and counterpoint between the saxophones. There is the sense of a slowly building momentum with the drum groove gradually intensifying in the latter half of the song. The increase in activity is slowed to a stop with the next track, “Earthings,” a lucid and plodding display of dark saxophone tones.
 
My favorite moment of Some Time comes with the “Close” and “Open.” The opening saxophone duet sets forth a process of recontexualization among motifs and drum patterns. A piano motif at the end of “Close,” closely related to the opening saxophone duet, is heard in a syncopated and almost free rhythm in relation to the sixteenth note based drum groove. The piano continues through the division of the two songs. The drums reenter clearly outlining the beat with a hip-hop infused groove that is joined, once again, by a saxophone duet. While mirroring each other in instrumentation and density, “Close” and “Open” provide an inventive repurposing of musical material that so strongly adds to the character of the project.
 
I wish I could find more information on this brilliant trio and the composer, Wout Gooris. The internet presences of the young pianist is stark, but his other releases follow a similar compositional style. It is early in this young musician’s career and I’ll be following his moves closely from now on. 

Between 2016 and 2018 I was on the road a lot. Between school on the East Coast and summer employment on the West Coast, I logged a lot of miles in the Honda Civic and grew to love the cross country road trip as a form of travel. Among the many hours that the stereo was on, two albums were consistently played for the early morning shift of driving: the olllam’s the olllam (featured in On Queue July) and The Party, a quasi-concept album from a small-town Saskatchewan named Andy Shauf.
 
Shauf was raised in a musical family that owned an electronics and music store which allowed him to hone his musicianship on many instruments from an early age. He often played Christian music at his church, but this was not the environment Shauf wished to be making music in. As he moved through high school, he played with a number of pop-punk bands before moving to the capital of Saskachewan to record his first record and tour through the small DIY venues across Western Canada.
 
After a couple bedroom-produced albums and EPs, The Party is a strong and realized work with a thematically intriguing and cohesive narrative arc. The album seemingly revolves around one night where 10 songs guide us through the events a particular party. All aspects and personalities typical to your average awkward house party are explored through the understated and delicate vocals and mellow instrumental arrangements played entirely (with exception of the strings) by Shauf.
 
The album opens with “The Magician.” The protagonist is already unsure, unsettled, and unaware of what is to come of the rest of the evening. Hiding his true self from everyone is his preferred state of being. We arrive at the party in “Early To The Party,” and face everyone’s nightmare of arriving before anyone else, feeling like a burden to the host, and finding anything to do to pass the time. The noticeably more mumbled tone of Shauf’s vocals gives the character a decidedly anxious guise.  
 
The feeling of being out of place is intensified during “Twist Your Ankle.” We’ve moved into a reflective mindset during the morning after the party. Drunk and stumbling around, our protagonist pursues a love interest who wants nothing to do with the character. Embarrassed and dejected, regret fills his head.
Perhaps the most impressive track, “Quiet Like You” outlines the conversation between our main character and his best friend’s girlfriend who has recently broken up with his friend. In his gleefully drunken state, our protagonist makes attempts to win her over in a flirtatious conversation that throws his best friend under the bus. All of this to see her fall back into the arms of his friend at the end of the song.
 
The merry bounce of “Quiet Like You” is balanced out with the weight of tunes like “To You” in which the protagonist invites his friend outside to leave the party in order for him to confess his true feelings that straddle a romantic line. The song opens with the protagonist talking to his friend named “Jeremy.” The gender of the friend is never explicitly reveled, but clues hint at this romantic interest being towards a male friend named Jeremy. “Yeah / Tell the guys and laugh it up / Why am I even surprised?” says our narrator after being rejected.
 
There are few albums I have obsessed over more than this one. Each listen through I find new elements that I fall in love with. You can listen to the story, the beautifully crafted instrumentals, or how these two interplay to create the scene of the party. The narrative is hypnotizing in its simplicity. Everyone has faced the characters in this album during their lifetime and have felt the butterflies of anxiety that come with the simple but powerful experiences described. The music portrays this simplicity with stripped down lyrics, melodies, and arrangements that thrust a feeling of insecurity to the foreground. I find myself revisiting this album and the story of this party often, just as I revisit my own memories sporting a similar cast of characters.

Full disclosure, I was rooting for Phantom Thread for best score at this year’s Oscars. I can’t say I was surprised Alexandre Desplat walked away with the award and now, closing in on a year removed from the release of The Shape Of Water, this score has really grown on me.
 
I came to realize my original gripe with the academy’s decision came while considering the pure music–I had strong feelings and would still argue Jonny Greenwood’s music from Phantom Thread, when separated from the image, held my attention and interest in a more captivating and enthralling manner. When I gave the Desplat’s score the attention it deserved (i.e. considering it in association with the beautiful visuals of Guillermo del Toro’s film) I realized how much attention was put on the color and timbre of the score resulting in a perfect sonic interpretation of the dark, enchanting, and unnerving world where the story unfolds.
 
Desplat is a giant in the film scoring world. The French-Greek composer has collected two Academy awards and seven nominations for his work. He frequently provides the soundtracks for the brilliantly quirky films of Wes Anderson. Desplat’s filmography for both English and French films is extensive, but I have a hard time finding another one of his scores that accompanies a film with such convincing and accurate representations of the film’s characters.
 
The film begins with the title theme, “The Shape of Water,” it is a bubbling and mystifying cue filled with a feeling of “fairy tail turned dark.” The steady harp motif that rises and falls behind the melody throughout paints a picture of bubbles or maybe of the hypnotizing motion of waves rising and falling.
 
The flute, piano, accordion, harp, and other instruments in the upper registers lift the score to tell the love story above the looming evil, heard in the strings, that seeks to tear Elisa (Sally Hawkins) and the amphibian creature (Doug Jones) apart. Low strings in “The Creature” feel as though they elude to the infamous theme from Jaws as flute stays near its lower range.
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We are introduced to Elisa’s leitmotif in “Elisa’s Theme,” a playful theme that warms the listener. The plucky flute lines in this theme can be heard later in the score during “Overflow Of Love.” Elisa’s leitmotif returns slightly altered and seems to stop and start almost as if lost for words or for breath.
 
This feeling of desire continues in “Underwater Kiss,” in which Elisa’s theme and the opening title theme are passed back and forth giving the listener an idea of this conflicted love story.
 
The brilliance of this score lies in the subtle changes in timbre and phrasing that shift the audience between the excitement of love and an overwhelming sensation of fear in the blink of an eye. With the love story between human and creature, not much is said, but it is clear what is felt. For Desplat, what he says (the melodies) may appear simple, but how he speaks in this score makes all the difference.

​Vertigo has quickly vaulted to the top of almost all film junkies’ rankings of Alfred Hitchcock films, although at its release it wasn’t necessarily a box office hit. Many attributed this to the tragic nature of the ending while Hitchcock was quick to blame his aging lead, James Stewart, who he felt may have not been a convincing love interest for 25-year-old, Kim Novak.
 
Hollywood gossip aside, it is safe to say Bernard Herrmann’s score, the fourth collaboration between these two masters of their craft, is a major contributor to this film’s infamous milieu. One must look no further than the legendary opening title sequence to hear this. Saul Bass created a spiraling animation that is accompanied by music that, quite literally, has vertigo. A repeated pattern of major thirds seems to spiral into a never ending abyss.
 
The plot has been compared to that of Proust’s “Tristan und Isolde,” which was famously made into an opera by Richard Wagner and premiered in 1865. This is widely considered as the pivotal moment in music history where classical music was no longer reliant on a tonal center or common practice harmony–it is the foundation of 20th century music. These sentiments, and even quotes from Wagner’s opera, fill the score adding to the eerie glow of the story and setting. Whereas tonality relies on the use of half steps and a mixture of minor and major intervals, Herrmann’s opening gesture with equally spaced major thirds immediately disorients the listener in an unsettling vortex that cannot be shaken, not even during moments of great desire and passion.
 
Herrmann cleverly uses leitmotifs associated with love and obsession throughout the film. These themes and motifs grow, transform, and mature as the plot unfolds. It takes a psychological toll on the listener as the score seems to point the audience towards a certain conclusion while having to sit hopelessly as the plot unfolds.
 
The most famous moment of the score, besides the opening sequence, is “Scene D’Amour.” The climax erupts as Stewart and Novak embrace for a kiss. We hear the love theme as it cycles through emotions of joy, romance, haunting fear, and back again. Herrmann so brilliantly, through his uses of motifs and orchestra, is able to communicate this love will not last for ever.
 
My favorite quote from Herrmann reads, “to orchestrate is like a thumbprint.” The importance of color in his music and to his ear is what made him one of the greatest film composers of all time. his style was well suited for the eerie thrillers that Hitchcock became so well known for and Vertigo was certainly the the pinnacle of this collaboration. Herrmann’s contribution to this film deepens the picture so beautifully that the music has, as Alex Ross puts it, “found a life outside the film.”

​Before getting into the score, if you have the opportunity to see “Ryuichi Sakamoto: Coda” I cannot recommend it enough. It is an incredibly well thought out biographical documentary about Ryuichi Sakamoto. Rather than just starting from the beginning and move forward with the story of his life, we see him in the present day as he works on a new album and fights a caner diagnosis while working on the score for The Revenant. Through this struggle, we hear about moments in his life and his story is told.
 
But back to the matter at hand, The Revenant. For those that have seen the film, the images and landscapes we see are breathtaking. The vastness and power of nature is put on full display. The three composers masterfully create a soundscape that is representative of the immeasurable landscape, which at times can be hauntingly silent, and the slow and painful death that Leonardo DiCaprio inches towards.
 
Much of the power in this score lies in the mix. The opening theme is a simple two chord motif that sits in the air with wind noise underneath it. This two chord motif appears throughout the score. It feels a slow and painful heart beat–each instance takes increasingly more effort. After three or four cues of mainly ambient drones or reverb soaked chords, “Killing Hawk” introduces the gritty and percussive sound of col legno strings when stringed instruments are hit with the wood of the bow rather than the hair. It is an unnerving attrition to the soundscape.
 
“Goodbye To Hawk” melds together strings and synthesizers playing slowly swooping melodies in front of synth basses that pulse in the manner of a funeral march. The use of synthesizers is a surprising choice in a film that is so deeply rooted in nature. There is an uncanny balance between these instruments and devises that enhances the sense of a churning expanse rather than a confusing muddle of voices.
 
One of Bryce Dessner’s contributions to the soundtrack is perhaps the most emotional cue of the whole film. “Imagining Buffalo” does not waver from the minimalistic theme of the soundtrack, but the additive process and layering of strings creates a rising chorus of beautiful dissonance. Low and high strings call and respond to one another while a middle range drown stabilizes the chord. Like many of the cues on this soundtrack, I am left in astonishment of the emotional power of a single, drawn out chord.
 
The color palate of the soundtrack is as cold as the wind that sweeps through Alejandro D. Iñárritu’s western. It becomes hard to make a distinction between beauty and terror as you sit within the slowly evolving textures. In many ways this mirrors our experience with nature–the beauty of the natural world can become a source of unrelenting terror and pain without warning.