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Aug - Sep 2008
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Hot As Rice
She's the newest, baddest mamma jamma this year, and don't you forget it. But folks are saying Erykah Badu's New Amerykah: Part One (4th World War) doesn't fit comfortably in the diva's discography. Part of the problem is, as smart and funky as it is, the album holds on to its secrets because it's just the first part of a duo. Indeed, fans who love her debut, Baduizm (1997) are arguing that New Amerykah doesn’t have the distinctive “neo-soul” flavor that made Baduizm a watershed moment in “modern” R&B. With her delicately evocative voice that still seems rightfully descended from Billie Holiday, Badu revealed that she was a free spirit on Live (1997), and also loved hanging out, a wondrous fact best born out on Worldwide Underground (2003), a tasty treat of bump-n-bass jams. New Amerykah, it becomes clear on first spin, is a more serious affair, exploring themes of war, identity and renewal. Badu speaks as clearly and boldly as ever, part shaman, part ordinary lady. She dedicates "The Healer", a track on which she plays the part of a mediator between the world's children and hip-hop visionary J Dilla, and declares hip-hop to be "bigger than the government". "The Cell" tells the sober tale of Brenda who "died with no name/nickel bag coke to the brain". She casts a unflinching eye at her own failings on "Me"--"Had two babies [by] different dudes". These cautionary fables are ably supported by an impressive cast. Production credits go out to Roy Ayers, Madlib, Shafiq Husayn, James Poyser, and Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson. Final, verdict: the album is baleful, contrary, preachy, sassy, breathtaking, and Badu is at some wonderful crossroads in her career. (Motown, www.motown.com) Len Cho
Carla Bozulich has christened her group after her previous album. With this act, she is declaring her new solidarity with a bunch of people who've shared her musical vision over the better part of a decade, and support her quest for spiritual and political purity. The album closer declares as much. On it Bozulich shouts out visions of “rubble and blood,” telling us “we are all the same,” that “when all hope is gone, there’s only one thing left --- love!” Evangelism has never stood well with experimental music, but this is no piece of advice Bozulich has time for. In its hard-headedness, Hello, Voyager is musically all over the place, flying from bruising grunge ("Truth Is Dark Like Outer Space”, the jagged “Smooth Jazz") to sad ballads ("The Blue Room”, “Paper Kitten Claw") and orchestral themes (the sublime “For the Li’l Dudes"). And with members of Thee Silver Mt. Zion playing behind her, Bozulich knows her canvas of beautiful gloom is never disassociated and never less than ardently polychromatic. (Constellation, www.cstrecords.com) Lee Chung Horn
Portishead has made a new album after years of silence. 3 is a difficult and harsh record. This is mostly because it is bereft of most of the turntablist trickery of the previous two records. Without Geoff Barrow's atmospheric samples and scratches, the music's earlier "lushness" and "softness" is missing. Vocalist Beth Gibbons may possess one of pop music's most distinctive voices, but her lyrics here are some of the weakest she's ever written. At many moments, the lofi analog sound of this album comes very much to the fore, making it resemble a soundtrack from any of the many strange underground art film from the 70's. Hip coffee lounges who play tracks from the much cooler Dummy aren't going to chill with the songs from 3. There is one gem, though--"Deep Water", a glimmer of devastating beauty in an otherwise, rather downbeat tome. (Island, www.islandrecords.com) Russ Tomkins
Remember Burial's glorious full length album from last year? That was dubstep, one of the hottest electronic genres at the moment. Thanks to the ensuing media heat, labels have been scrambling to find new producers who can do the genre, and there's been nary a blog that hasn't equated Burial’s meteoric rise to the work of South London’s Beni Uthman, commonly known by his recording name Benga. Actually, Uthman has been releasing minimal dub downtempo before Burial’s debut. His schtick is monstrous, warping basslines, and a few meticulously repeating samples. Certainly, Benga can bend lower frequencies than anybody else, and music on Diary of an Afro Warrior would decapitate people on a big system. Yet, there are difficulties. The UK single “Night”, for example, doesn't go anywhere. It's five minutes of cowbell, shaker, a farting horn, and a small synth line. It achieves little. “Go Find Them” features words, one of the few on the record, delivered through a vocoder over a taut bassline. Again it is hugely repetitive. Most of the other fare on the album fit in the same format. If this is the best dubstep has to offer, it'll suffer the same fate as speed garage -- at best, subgenre; at worst, oddity. (Tempa, www.tempa.co.uk) Amy Maraj
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Erykah Badu-New Amerykah:
Part One (4th World War) (Motown/Universal)
Evangelista-Hello, Voyager
(Constellation) 
Portishead-3
(Island) 
Benga-Diary of an Afro Warrior (Tempa) 
