Moor Mother—Black Encyclopedia of the Air

Black Encyclopedia of the Air finds Philadelphia performance poet Moor Mother (Camae Ayewa) surrounded by uncustomarily restrained accompaniment. Where Ayewa’s previous albums spat in the face of their listeners—at times pulling at the fringes of noise music—Black Encyclopedia hushes things up; gargles with potential energy.

This may sound like a defanging. It’s not. If anything, Ayewa’s confrontational performance is vitalized by the vacuum which surrounds it. Writing is one thing—delivery altogether another. To my mind greatest compliment an artist can receieve, which is certainly true in Ayewa’s case, is that no-one else could deliver their material. Moor Mother is a singular voice in every sense of the word.

Its's not the first time a more subdued approach has appeared this year. Recently, Rhode Island noise musician Lingua Ignota stripped things back for her album Get Ready Sinner. As an unfortunate side-effect, the lyrical and thematic one-dimensionality of that album’s lyrics stumbled into unavoidable relief. The opposite is true here; Ayewa is a considered, thoughtful and fantastically intelligent lyricist whose work only reveals greater riches the closer we scrutinse.

But Ayewa is not the only voice on Black Enclyclopedia. Unfamiliar voices explore unfamiliar territory and give this album a broader perspective than had Ayewa, skilled as she is, chosen to make it a one-woman show. These guest performances, which feature on around half of the album’s tracks, are cannily used. You never know what to expect: features range from sweet, melodic vocal hooks to jittery verses exploring lockdown paranoia and sinister governmental duplicity.

The most persistent motif of Moor Mother’s work—a gathering together of history, a collision and entanglement of past and future—is just as present here as it was on her stunning debut Fetish Bones. What truly impresses, though, is her ability to explore this concept from so many angles; to so consistently refresh and defamiliarise a theme, to the extent it feels unprecedented every time.

Black Encyclopedia of the Air is available for purchase and streaming here.

Words: Andrew O’Keefe

Best Available Technology—Inscape Routes

Inscape Routes, the new album from Best Available Technology, is a nostalgic and unpredictable collection of ambient dub. The whole album feels oddly lyrical, provoking easier comparison to the quixotic likes of Micachu, or Archy Marshall’s A New Place 2 Drown, than any artists working more firmly within the genre. The fundamentals are obviously there—beefy subs and scratchy, delay-laden percussion. But they’re just the foundation for something altogether stranger. Most of what Inscape Routes has to offer is half-song, half…something else. The album’s plaintive instrumentals speak as forcefully as any lyricist you might think of—but they are also as delicate, tremulous, and spare as the skeletons of dead leaves.

Inscape Routes recycles some well-worn sounds of the 1990s, and some of its synth splashes will leave listeners soaked through with nostalgia. But this album re-contextualises those sounds, deliberately strips them of their vigour and leaves them stilted and struggling. The result is something bittersweet. It’s the last embers of an optimistic fire, one that was lit some decades ago, finally fading into the inky air. Inflatable armchairs rotting on a tumulus of the Packington Landfill. And yeah: it’s become quite trendy to write rave culture eulogies recently—2017 Bicep weepie ‘Glue’ is testament to that. But as you might have guessed, Inscape Routes commits harder to the abstract—and to having ideas of its own—than most deconstructionist club stuff.

About halfway through, Inscape Routes even deconstructs itself. Mid-album track ‘Arc Stoked’ is demolished, to segue into quasi-concrète sketch ‘Observation Hill’. The transition is as wonderful as it is surprising—and is just one of many breathlessly inventive displays of musicianship on the album.

Unconcerned with evoking a specific time or place, Inscape Routes is instead the sound of transience. Like a bullet, it moves through, punctures, and distorts the tissue of its subject. Inscape Routes scrunches some of the last few decades’ musical styles into piles of tangled tape on the floor, and invites you to have a little dance on them. It’s a thoughtful, generous and really fun album.  

Inscape Routes is available for purchase and streaming here.

Words: Andrew O’Keefe

Liars—The Apple Drop

Recent Liars releases have felt like acrimonious breakup albums between founding member Angus Andrew and his own band. 2017’s TFCF was particularly difficult to get on with and, despite having its fans, felt at times like an uncomfortable, messy and spite-fuelled vanity project. For new album The Apple Drop, Liars’ mojo is restored by a talented selection of new blood; especially drummer Laurence Pike and lyricist (and Andrews’ wife) Mary Pearson Andrew.

The Apple Drop is not only more ambitious than its immediate predecessors, it’s more accessible. Liars’ typical weirdness takes the backseat in an album propelled by more infectious (and more conventional) melodies than the band has ever produced before. Edgier fans won’t be thrilled to hear “Liars go radio-friendly”—but they’d be turning their backs on some impeccably constructed material. Andrews’ knack for putting together a great, straightforward tune—and to incorporate others’ ideas—is a surprise that’s both revelatory and welcome.

‘Big Appetite’ is probably the purest example of The Apple Drop’s M.O. It’s a bit like a Stereophonics song, except it’s written and performed by people who are actually trying. And on the other end of the scale you have ‘Sekwar’, which mixes a Baxter Dury drawl and the sort of instrumental you’d expect from Thom Yorke (better than it sounds). In all instances Andrews’ collaborators absolutely make this album. Laurence Pike’s drums are brilliant without exception and slot neatly into a canvas of performers who sound like they’ve known each other for years.

Special notice must be given, too, to the album’s engineering. The vastness of its sound belies its modest budget, like Andrews and company hijacked Kanye’s ridiculous pop-up studio in the Mercedes-Benz Stadium changing rooms and made use of all his very very expensive computery things.

The sum of these parts is a fresh, vibrant and approachable course-correction for Liars—a band who, just a few months ago, were on the ropes. The best comeback since Rocky IV.  

The Apple Drop is available for purchase and streaming here.

Words: Andrew O’Keefe

Lingua Ignota—Sinner Get Ready

Lingua Ignota’s latest remake of the 1987 Swans album Children of God is a quieter affair than followers may expect. Kristin Hayter hails from an active noise scene in Rhode Island which has until now provided her stylistic template—and an endless supply of abusive men to draw inspiration from. Sinner Get Ready swaps out screeching power electronics for restrained analogue instrumentation, giving further emphasis to Kristin Hayter’s intense vocals than ever before.

This proves a double-edged sword. The strength and vulnerability of Hayter’s performance shines brighter. The deficiencies of her repetitious lyrics become impossible to ignore. It sounds uncharitable, but Hayter is a one-trick pony; she uses religious iconography to explore the power dynamics of violence, abuse and revenge. This is interesting the first few times you hear it but very quickly feels hackneyed and overwrought.

Similar to Nick Cave’s compulsive invocation of Jesus, Hayter’s treatment of Christianity feels awkward and lazy, like a first-resort attempt to cram power into their work. Perhaps this exposes a bias in my own enjoyment of noise—but I can’t help feeling that a vital layer of abstraction and transcendence gets lost in all the structure and dogma. When Hayter was turning everything up to 11, it brushed the transcendence that lies within organised religion—the zenith of which can be found in the album Yirat Hashem, by an unknown artist. Quieten things even a little, and the whole illusion crumbles and feels like fool’s gold.

Sinner Get Ready is enjoying a rapturous reception but I can’t really figure out why. Lyrically and thematically it retreads the exact same ground as its predecessors—and instrumentally it is nowhere near as brave, unusual or arresting. Previous Lingua Ignota album CALIGUA was the body and the blood of Christ. Sinner Get Ready is some nice crackers and communion wine that got delivered to the church by Brakes.

Sinner Get Ready is available for purchase and streaming here.

Words: Andrew O’Keefe