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Review: YG, Still Brazy

YG largely trades the personal for the political—and gives up very little of the partying.




YG, Still Brazy

Despite all its ratchet excess, My Krazy Life left a lot of space for YG’s mom: It’s her voice on the intro, giving the rapper holy hell for falling into the same gang-banging pattern that put his daddy in jail, and it’s her being apologized to on the album’s emotional closer. She shows up—in spirit, at least—throughout, keeping her son smart and self-aware while he indulges the benefits fame has afforded him. She doesn’t always get through to him, but her words and his reverence for them lent YG’s party album an affectingly personal appeal.

With Still Brazy, the rapper largely trades the personal for the political—and gives up very little of the partying. It’s no coincidence that the hook “fuck Donald Trump” works in each of these contexts: “FDT” is an uncompromising diss track that honors the object of its ire by never mincing words. YG and featured artist Nipsey Hussle ruthlessly mock Trump’s policies and lob the kinds of schoolyard-worthy personal attacks the presumptive Republican nominee has made a hallmark of his campaign. Unsurprisingly, their taunts are way funnier (“Where’s your L.A. rally?/We gonna crash your shit!”), and their off-the-cuff, freestyled flows (along with the protest march and picket signs of the song’s video) make the raw sentiments resonate with their irrepressible outrage—and our own.

YG’s moral compass is pointed as truly north as it’s ever been, but his good sense elsewhere is sometimes contested by his biggest bugaboo: females. “She Wish She Was” finds YG directing the same character-assassination aptitude he righteously brought against the Donald at various unfaithful women, and the pettiness is off-putting. It helps that, musically, the track isn’t the joyous party cut “FDT” is; Dr. Dre’s abrasive snare blasts, subterranean bass, and moody keyboards insinuate paranoia, making the bitterness and hate of the song feel almost symptomatic of the album’s sociopolitical vexation. It also helps that most of Still Brazy’s coiled aggression is saved for better occasions, like the tense, noir-ish scene depicted in “Who Shot Me,” YG’s detail-oriented internal monologue mulling the circumstances that could’ve led to an attempt on his life, or the finale, “Police Get Away wit Murder,” which sends the album out on a blistering condemnation of cop-perpetrated violence.

These tracks represent some of the best-produced hip-hop music of the year. While My Krazy Life got a lot of mileage out of executive-producer DJ Mustard’s minimalist G-funk, the new album draws from more diverse collaborations. The rudimentary melodicism of “Word Is Bond” and “Bool, Balm & Collective” register merely as convincing Mustard imitations, but flourishes like the springy guitar hook on “Who Shot Me,” drunk drum programming on “Why You Always Hatin’?,” and simmering high-hat on “Gimme Got Shot” all feel as much true to YG’s aesthetic as they are an advancement of it. But it’s “Twist My Fingaz,” with its P-funk talk-box and “Forgot About Dre” synth line, that feels like Still Brazy’s most accomplished song, one worried to greatness. YG doesn’t waste its sonic bounty, projecting more personality as a performer than he did anywhere on his debut, especially in the drawled earworm of a chorus.

After My Krazy Life, it wasn’t immediately clear, especially amid the deluge of SoCal luminaries like Kendrick Lamar and Vince Staples, if YG would make a lasting impression, or if his success might be limited to its moment—not unlike his former partner, DJ Mustard, whose own star has faded since their split. Still Brazy presents an almost too-perfect answer: Right down to its title, its tactic feels familiar. But make no mistake—musically and lyrically, this is an expansion. If there were only more ways one could feasibly imagine spelling the word “crazy,” you’d almost think YG could keep doing this forever.

Label: Def Jam Release Date: June 17, 2016 Buy: Amazon



Review: Guster’s Look Alive Is the Sound of a Band Rejuvenated

Guster’s eighth album buzzes with inventiveness, charm, and youthful dynamism.




Guster, Look Alive

Guster has long been associated with “college rock,” and not without reason. Even though every member of the Boston-based band is now over 40, they still make bright, hyper-polished alt-pop tailor-made for campus radio. The band’s eighth album, Look Alive, adds synths and contemporary production flourishes to their sonic repertoire, but all the hallmarks of their sound remain: winsome melodies, soaring hooks, and tight, immaculate songcraft that combines the best of Britpop, 1960s folk, and post-grunge.

Like most Guster albums, Look Alive has a few duds, a few modest successes, and at least one showstopper—a song that makes you wonder why the band was never more successful. On 2006’s Ganging Up on the Sun, that song was “Satellite,” a shimmering power-pop masterpiece that split the difference between the Shins and Neutral Milk Hotel. Here, it’s “Hard Times,” which also happens to be the least Guster-like track on the album. Drenched in Auto-Tune, buzzing synth frequencies, and stadium-ready percussion, the song doesn’t sound anything like “Satellite,” let alone like the band’s output before 2000. Yet, true to form, it’s a remarkable piece of pop. “Sinister systems keep us satisfied/These are hard times,” Ryan Miller wails. It’s a simple statement, but it makes for a stunning chorus, and Miller’s effusive delivery renders it the most cathartic moment on the album.

On “Not for Nothing,” the band ventures into dream-rock territory, surrounding themselves with icy synth textures that wouldn’t sound out of place on a Wild Nothing track, while “Hello Mister Sun” is unabashed bubblegum pop that pays homage to whimsical Paul McCartney tracks like “Penny Lane” and “Good Day Sunshine.” Likewise, the sprightly “Overexcited” bounces along with a spoken-word verse and pounding, piano-centric chorus. While none of these tracks tackle complex themes, they’re playful, infectious, and eminently listenable.

Many of Guster’s best-known songs delve into same subject matter: newfound love, crippling heartache, the pain of being young, restless, and alone. Yet much of Look Alive is more elliptical. “Maybe we’re all criminals and this is just the scene of a crime,” Miller sings ambiguously on “Terrified,” forcing the listener to fill in the blanks. “Summertime” similarly defies easy explanation: Brimming with obscure religious imagery, whispered background vocals, and references to an unspecified war, it follows no logical narrative, instead allowing the track’s mood—a feeling of triumph over some great adversity—to tell the story.

For better and worse, Look Alive’s production mimics the spacious, ‘80s-inspired aesthetic that pervades much of contemporary indie-rock. “Don’t Go” transplants a prototypical Guster melody into a synth-soaked songscape, while the title track seems expressly engineered for Spotify’s Left of Center playlist. Still, the album never feels like the work of aging musicians struggling to stay relevant; it buzzes with inventiveness, charm, and youthful dynamism.

Label: Nettwerk Release Date: January 18, 2019 Buy: Amazon

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Review: Toro y Moi’s Outer Peace Bends Boundaries with Mixed Results

Chaz Bear’s sixth album as Toro y Moi bends the boundaries of club music, albeit with mixed results.




Toro y Moi, Outer Peace

Having already concocted brainy dance music under the alter ego Les Sins, chillwave trailblazer, synth-pop alchemist, and psychedelic rock enthusiast Chaz Bear fully embraces the dance floor on Outer Peace, his sixth studio album as Toro y Moi. Pulling from sources as disparate as R&B, tropical house, and trap, the California-based singer bends the boundaries of club music, albeit with mixed results.

Upon first listen, it seems like Outer Peace colors a rough sketch of a dystopian future where the material is mistaken for the immaterial, technology becomes a gateway to the metaphysical, and fleeting pleasures, prompting ever greater hedonistic pursuits. It doesn’t take long to realize, though, that this dystopia isn’t some future prospect, but the present moment. With lines like “Mystic staring at his phone for oneness,” Bear masterfully defamiliarizes our world, exposing the absurdity of the digital age.

Bear charmingly pairs this oft-heavy subject matter with club-ready grooves. The existential crisis of “Who Am I” is juxtaposed with sweetly pitched-up vocals and a fizzy patchwork of synths. Bear’s playful approach to house music ensures that no amount of existential dread and doom can dampen the mood he creates throughout the album.

Bear’s tinkering, however, isn’t always transportive. The rather vanilla tropical house beat of “Baby Drive It Down” recalls Drake’s dancehall-lite, with a lifeless performance from Bear. His experimentation with trap is at first promising on “Monte Carlo,” with the support of a dreamy pillow of vocal samples, but coming in at two minutes, the track feels one note, lacking any tempo changes or even a bridge, suggesting it was perhaps better fit for an interlude.

The cover of Outer Peace depicts Bear gazing intently at a computer screen, surrounded by instruments in a clean, sterile room. He reportedly created the majority of the album during an unaccompanied two-week retreat off Northern California’s Russian River, and this isolation can be felt throughout. The album’s title represents the remarkable possibility of finding freedom from the outside world by letting loose on the dance floor and experiencing liberation in a crowd of strangers. Bear certainly takes the album there at several points, but in the limited scope and cerebral slant of these too-brief songs, he loses that outer peace.

Label: Carpark Release Date: January 18, 2019 Buy: Amazon

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Review: Joe Jackson’s Fool Is a Concise and Punchy Nostalgia Trip

On Fool, Joe Jackson sounds younger and angrier than he has in years.




Joe Jackson, Fool

Joe Jackson has spent the better part of four decades trying to put some distance between himself and his debut, Look Sharp!, a collection of acerbic new-wave pop songs that earned him the label of “angry young man.” But on his 21st album, Fool, he sounds younger and angrier than he has since 2003’s deliberately retro Volume 4. Maybe it’s a symptom of nostalgia: Fool, after all, is being released almost 40 years to the day after Look Sharp!, accompanied by a tour that promises to draw from Jackson’s entire career.

The album’s first two singles, “Fabulously Absolute” and “Friend Better,” both seem to deliberately rekindle the spirit of 1979: the former with its wiry post-punk guitar and synth riffs, the latter with its snotty vocal cut from the same cloth as early Jackson hits like “Is She Really Going Out with Him?” Even the refrain of the opening track “Big Black Cloud”—“No luck, no money, no sex, no fun”—is torn straight out of the London punk playbook.

Not all of the album calls back so specifically to Jackson’s debut: With its jazz-inflected piano and flute, closing track “Alchemy” is a welcome return to the moody sophisti-pop of 1982’s Night and Day. More often, however, Fool‘s refined pop-rock recalls an amalgamation of styles from Jackson’s “classic” era while also reflecting his late-career maturity. Tracks like the elegiac “Strange Land” marry his long-standing jazz and classical ambitions with his undeniable knack for pop melody in a way that doesn’t shortchange either.

Jackson, though, still hasn’t quite shaken his tendency to overextend himself. The title track is well-played, with some virtuosic runs by longtime bassist Graham Maby, but it also careens from Jackson rapping into a megaphone to a madrigal-like bridge to a synthesized surf guitar solo. The Beatles-esque “Dave” holds together better musically, but its character study of a pure-hearted but simple-minded everyman, who could have something to teach us about slowing down and enjoying life, feels cloying and condescending.

If Fool doesn’t quite measure up to Jackson’s sterling early work, it’s still more concise and punchy than 2015’s Fast Forward and less self-consciously arty than his late-‘80s and ‘90s work. By now, Jackson has surely come to terms with the fact that he’ll never be able to outrun his new wave days; keeping it as just one of the tools in his expansive arsenal is a fine compromise.

Label: earMUSIC Release Date: January 18, 2019 Buy: Amazon

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