700 Bliss: Nothing to announce for album review

Some of the fiercest political arts of the past year can be found in club music. whether cross Lauren Jamesbrain reflections, anyMessy bangs, or Charlotte Adigiri And the Police PopolThe satirical takedowns, the dance floor, gained doubly weight as a platform for expressing grievances about government neglect, societal dysfunction and police violence. 700 placethe experimental duo of Philadelphia poet/rapper mother of mor She was born in New Jersey DJ is forbiddenjoin the fight on their debut album, rallying the club’s devious voices in a racy counterattack on the existing patriarchal forces.

Husband’s debut, 2018 Spa 700, East Coast club music has been stripped down to a gray husk perfectly suited to Moore Mathers’ dark rap. on me I have nothing to declareDJ Haram challenges the Moor Mother with more intense beats, and the rapper responds with a new vulnerability to her music. Her prophetic discourse retains all the eloquence of the spoken word, and she enriches her lyrics with compelling historical lessons that highlight America and Europe’s historical plunder of black culture. The music is anchored by a mixture of frenetic cup drums and percussion, bulbous bass, and jagged noise lines. There is hardly a line on the album where the sound is not processed or repositioned, and the result is a hall of mirrors that wraps around the musicians’ personalities.

beginning of I have nothing to declare It is the most accessible, only because other species are welcome briefly on the table. They hint at R&B on “Nightflame,” as Orion Sun’s chorus slides between fast-rolling kicks and Moor Mother’s casual wordplay (“Emma reading, newsroom/Pussy Good, Emma’s perfume/teaching, classroom/Emma walking, ballroom “). Elsewhere, The Anthology lays out a tapestry of African and Caribbean dance in the manner of aggro techno stomp, and pays tribute to pioneering figure Catherine Dunham, the choreographer and anthropologist who brought Afro-Diaspora influences to American dance.

Representative charade Divide the album into thirds. “EasyJet” is a bogus booing session about 700 Bliss dripping with fake sarcasm (“Literally, who wants to hear that crap?”), while “Spirit Airlines” is a big-breasted response that speaks to a level of confrontation seen throughout the record. Over the, I have nothing to declare Moaning with electric paranoia burning under the covers like a bedroom monster. Take a double shot and you’ll see it everywhere—in the high-pitched keys of “Discipline” that mimic John Williams jaws Trait; The drums of “Sixteen” that explode like fire. Drum kicks with powerful punches that step like Godzilla over “Bless Grips”.

Over the course of the album, they gradually abandoned the rigid club beats in favor of raucous abstraction. More Wins begins with an abrasive bleating noise that makes the atmosphere claustrophobic, leaving only the tiniest pockets of air for barely decipherable words, pin-prick clicks, and coarse vocal manipulation. The song is the ultimate in hype on the album, but the other moments are more grumpy in its political expression. “Candice Parker”, which bears the great WNBA name and features a Palestinian artist interrupt, very timely, given a recent Supreme Court draft opinion indicating that Roe v. Wade may soon be overturned. “They’re raping our mothers while you’re just taping,” Moore groans as the lovable breakout blows about her tonic disdain. Meanwhile, “The Capitol” recalls disturbing memories of the January 6 attack on the Capitol. Through a scattered barrage of sirens that keep the listener on constant alert, Mother Moore performs the last verse in a preachy rhythm, recounting the event in patriotic context as “a call to arm itself/in the sale of humanity, one war at a time.”