Tag: Music

Chief Keef – Almighty So 2: Review

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Earlier this year Chief Keef gave us Dirty Nachos with Mike-Will-Made-It, and it was some great stuff, but that didn’t match the hunger for fans who have been awaiting Almighty So 2 for years, which he just released. It’s a follow-up to his seminal 2013 mixtape, and a contrast to the overstimulated Drill beats we’ve gotten used to over the years, making the delivery more sobering and unique, as Keef instills more than just the rudimentary themes we’ve heard him tackle before. Here, he is weaving a tapestry that shows walls broken down and mirrors that give us more of a grounded Keef. He’s reflecting on his career, more so the 0 to 100 that came at a young age, and this feeling of the world on his shoulders. It’s an album that takes a different approach to the production, even when it still has lingering sensibilities from the Drill music he established himself in. Still, l there is some elevated sense of greatness that comes as Keef overpowers the tepid percussion on a few tracks. He speaks his truth, delivering a fantastic and memorable album.

After opening with a riotous intro, Chief Keef brings an eclectic array of music bolstered by different themes, self-awareness, and a mostly consistent production. Though it can be mostly that, the switches into self-reflection becomes an everchanging grasp that showcases maturity. It isn’t anything new, as Keef hasn’t been shy from showing emotion; however, this feels different as the other music surrounding it turns on its head with Keef being heard as having a grasp of it all now, like how positively he can find it in him to focus on himself, as expressed in “Treat Myself,” a contrast of “Believe” where the latter sees Keef at his most vulnerable. Over a soulful production by Keef and Bobby Raps, it’s a genuine switch to hear from the more audacious drill beats. It’s similarly heard on “Drifting Away,” where Keef takes himself through eclectic flips, like the gloomy piano playing in the first verse, feeling ominous and amplifying Keef’s flows and lyricism. It balances the clashing percussion of Drill with some of that 00s soul-hip-hop influence sprinkled within. In the second half, we get more of this and a special flow we get.

As incredible as these moments are on Almighty So 2, not all beats are as intricate or unique as the ones I’ve mentioned; however, Chief Keef isn’t taking a step back, instead formulating aggressive flows, and making some tracks more consumable, like with “Too Trim” and “Banded Up.”  Fortunately, the elements of Drill have become more of a percussional base for the production, allowing for seamless building blocks to form and making the tracks more than expected. The Drill elements can sometimes shroud over these building blocks like the soulful vocals building a cooling contrast to the drums, or when it plays with softer tempos, like on “Runner,” which unfortunately is one of the forgettable tracks off the album. It’s the same with “Grape Trees,” a jarring and forgettable moment with Sexxy Redd, over a forgettable beat and more. These are just the two examples that stood out. Though that doesn’t acquit some beats that play it safe on the drums, Chief Keef brings enough energy to give you something to replay. His lyrics aren’t always the most profound, but the rawness and hardness as he flexes and reminds us through illustrations of his weight in gold and more.

That gangster rap bravado and content we get on plenty of tracks, but shining brightly with “1,2,3,” “Tony Montana Flow,” and “Never Fly Here.” It’s a compensating contrast to seeing Keef tread different lines while being authentic to his style, like the pseudo-love track in “Prince Charming.” It makes it worthwhile to go through, especially for those fans that have been waiting. However, the production’s overall aesthetic and Keef’s direction may not seem to hold the same juice as his mixtape Dirty Nachos from earlier this year, but that’s due to Keef also continuing to show maturity on both ends, even when treading familiar territory content-wise. That eclectic nature of Almighty So 2 is in more than just the production and the writing, as it shows with the features too. Though it may seem typical for some, it was refreshing to hear Michael Blackson again, but as well, the synergy Keef has with artists like G Herbo, Quavo, and the ever-so consistently fantastic Tierra Whack, who makes anyone forget about the slight typicality of the beat they rap over.

Almighty So 2 met expectations and more for me. I know some fans have trepidation in loving this album as it doesn’t have that same zeal and fervor as Dirty Nachos, but it has enough to grasp Keef’s personal growth as an artist and person. It may be a while for some, even if it has some of the trademarks that make Keef great, however, the production is unreal many times, and hearing Keef, along with these other rappers flow with great cadence bolsters what comes out to be a memorably great listen, especially from the flows. Ultimately, it all culminates into one well-rounded album I’ll be looping for a while.

Rating: 8 out of 10.

Kacy Hill – Bug: Review

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One of the better decisions Kacy Hill has made was leaving GOOD Music. It wasn’t a fait accompli due to who Kanye West became, but more so cause her career was stalled in this weird phase where the music we got didn’t feel as authentic compared to the direction she would take with her albums post-GOOD Music. It’s been one of the driving factors for my love of her work, especially as her centralized musical identity brings an easier flow of listening with whimsical writing. Fortunately, that continuation is why her latest release Bug comes off as refreshing, even when it isn’t the most flashy. Kacy Hill can get flashy, but much of the music comes off as really personal, and more so sensibilities and situations woven artistically based on mood, allowing the music to have such amplification instead of another weaker radio banger for the clubs. Her music is melancholy and treads a narrative line that feels very book-like, offering a beginning and end while we hear her world grow with the experiences felt since the release of her last album. Bug continues showing a fantastic talent and one to keep in steady rotation.

Kacy Hill’s music is tender and tells wonderous stories through what could be deemed mundane for most. She’s focused on expression and makes sure it emanates from her vocal performances—from the spirited “Damn” to the more tender “Honey Boba Boy,” Kacy Hill has mastered how to make these tracks boastful in reflecting her strengths. As with her past two albums, she can take something simple and add life, despite some production choices creating turbulence, like the glitchy autotune on the latter song. Though I may be describing something that could be perfect for many ears, Bug isn’t perfect and has faults like “Here I Am,” which falls into the current electronica trend without moving the needle in ingenuity, even taking influence from the atmospheric aesthetic from a Caroline Polachek album. And “My Day Off” feels like a livelier and poppy take on a lesser Bon Iver-influenced record. It’s fine but compared to others, where elements they incorporate give it an elevated platform, it becomes more forgettable. At least much of the album has the charm to keep it from becoming the misnomer in her discography.

The production of Bug is more eclectic in credits than before. Still, at the same time, there is a sense of direction with the sound, transfixing itself within these more summery vibes and fewer sunsets than in Simple, Sweet, and Smiling, her previous album. It offers an interesting contrast that sees Kacy Hill focusing on the lightness of starting a new decade of life as she turns 30 this year and reflects. I can relate, so I can see why she would fall back on comfortability. Despite being a contrast, Kacy Hill and her co-producers do tread a line in a safety net, but for her, it’s not much of a detriment. The last thing one would want is to deliver something too glitzy, and when it does you get something like “Here I Am.” When it doesn’t we get this beautifully nuanced alt-pop production on “Listen To You,” or the whimsical “Poquito Mas,” where the instruments come to life and the smallest touch wiggles out to give you some more, like the in-and-out harmonica in the chorus section. “Frog Rinse” is this lavish electro-pop song with tints of glitch and garage, used as a bridge between the verses.

As with the production, the writing is close to par with what we’ve gotten from Kacy Hill previously, and with consistency, she lets her vocals shine more than her second album, Is it Selfish If We Talk About Me Again. There is a balance between electronica and alt-pop, with hints of pop-rock too, and what rounds it out is the writing, whether she’s deconstructing beliefs within relationships and the growth had between both partners (“Damn”), past internal strife with sharing emotions openly (“Frog Rinse”), or reflecting on her past self and let her know the future is bright despite what she felt prior (“Poquito Mas”). Kacy Hill delivers impactful work that gives us something cool to kick back to and unwind; we benefit that she has something to say, and has creative directions, despite typically leaning on relationships for the stories. Though it’s a common stance, creativity is what takes it over the hill and Kacy does that. It’s easy to get lost in the good, especially after weening out the lesser hits. It’s a fun album to start the summer.

Unfortunately, as positive as I am the few lesser moments can’t be forgotten. Kacy Hill hasn’t made her perfect album yet, but this consistency leaves one hopeful it’s coming. I loved what she did with some of the sounds here, and more; it’s like detaching and reattaching herself to sounds she’s worked with but with unique tonal shifts and performances. I highly recommend listening to this album; it’s so tender and raw, that I’m fluttering with musical glee and want you to feel similarly.

Rating: 8 out of 10.

Girl in Red – I’m Doing It Again: Review

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Though hipster-like in tone, girl in red had been on my radar before the Taylor Swift co-sign and her time opening for some Eras Tour dates, but that co-sign was something that did bring me some delight as she has become one of the few exciting voices coming out of the more popular surfaces of indie music. Her debut was wonderful; dedicating itself to being more instrumental to identity politics in music than trying to muster some sense of attention through overly rustic punk-rock-like sonic notes. Unfortunately, her follow-up, I’m Doing It Again Baby, is a slight detachment, as she begins to be overt with the charm; a missed opportunity to be better than the first, it does have some good songs, but whiffs elsewhere. It’s trying hard with the production, which is more gleeful, but delivers a slightly forgettable sophomoric effort that doesn’t also benefit from having such swift pacing. It comes and goes without leaving much of an impact outside of a few tracks with a replayable vibe; much of that comes from the production by Matias Tellez, her collaborator from the first album who doesn’t seem to have shown much difference between the two, despite tonal shift; fortunately, it has some redeemable qualities.

Unlike girl in red’s debut, there is a tonal shift in the production—more so, it had an idea and never dipped below 90 with its ingenuity and input to its more punk-like and rustic aesthetic for something more pop-rock and commercialized. However, one aspect that doesn’t subside is her talent for storytelling, and she does that in a slightly kitschy way, like with her narrated vocals in between songs as if it’s getting described as more of a book instead of being free-flowing. An instance of this where cutesy charm doesn’t work comes in “You Need Me Now?,” a song with Sabrina Carpenter, that tries slightly hard to be provocative as a pop song that taunts those who have burned bridges. That isn’t to say every song that does so flounders trying to be more than it is; however, it doesn’t have the same juice that a song like “Serotonin,” besides the title song which feels in touch with an elevated aesthetic from the pop-like punk rock tinges of her debut. It’s angsty and understands the complexions of girl in red’s vocals, allowing for something wonderful amidst the flow of try-pop.

Much of the production continues to be done by Marie Ulven Ringheim (girl in red) and her producer from her debut, Mattias Vellez, with some co-production on three tracks. Together they showcase a solid consistency between the two projects, specifically in the strings which contain a similar sense of punk rockabilly angst to contrast some of its more poppy tones, whether through the melodies or synths. Much of it comes in the middle of the album, as Ringheim surrounds tracks “Too Much” to “A Night to Remember” with quality. Still, those in between the mentioned don’t try to elevate past the known, unlike “Ugly Side,” which plays swimmingly with the melodies in the chorus, giving it more of a fleeting but fun inquisitive tone. It makes the more tried and simple vocals of “Phantom Pain” feel weaker than the first few listens as you know there is a direction Ringheim could take with Vellez and doesn’t do so, like with the flatlined mediocrity of tracks like “Too Much” and “A Night To Remember,” where much of it doesn’t feel as refreshing. That isn’t to discredit the writing as Ringheim does come with something to say, and more so than Taylor Swift did on her latest album, but it doesn’t elevate the bad to be better.

Ringheim’s writing is more grounded and humbled; she’s reflecting on her qualities and mediating like a therapy session without feeling much like it. She’s original with her slight confrontational lyrics that keep you interested in what is being said through the mold, even if the final product isn’t as cracked up as it should be. I felt a little steam just waiting for it to pick up, but it never truly does, leaving you fragments of a whole that could be amazing. Unfortunately, Girl In Red has only seemed to change tonal complexions, which may be a detriment as it doesn’t offer anything different from her debut. It’s another disappointment from these emerging acts that I love—I know the consistency remains potent, but the musicality has a rough time connecting thus leaving some songs stuck within this void of forgetfulness. Though that may sound harsh, the highs are exponentially so, and I know I will return to those before anything else on the record. I hope that rings for you too, and if you liked it more that’s even better. Girl in Red is awesome and more should listen.

Rating: 6 out of 10.

Taylor Swift – The Tortured Poets Department: Review

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Since 2020, no artist has had an oversaturated presence in pop and the overall zeitgeist than Taylor Swift. From surprise drops to re-recordings of her albums, and a total of 4 new albums, including the newly released The Tortured Poets Department, it’s easy to see how one may feel that it’s too much; the Swifties feel otherwise, but this new album continues to prove many things, most importantly, a much-needed divorce from Jack Antonoff. As evident through the album, some of its strongest works come from works with Aaron Dressner of The National, who offers a different palette more astute to what has been Taylor Swift’s strengths. It says more when his work speaks louder (ironically), as it isn’t hooked on more tepid and forgettable pop flavors that Antonoff has made his. The two create some solid work here and there, but the balance is inconsistent—more tracks are tiring and lacking fruitful pushes from the production that it doesn’t feel as inventive or new. I haven’t felt this way since Reputation, and with TPD, it’s a sign that Taylor Swift needs a new producer and doesn’t need to try hard to be someone she isn’t.

The Tortured Poets Department is an interesting writing exercise for Taylor Swift; Her writing isn’t styled through poeticism, she’s more of a composite of a direct storyteller, who has recently grasped the art of fiction with Folklore; However, Swift goes about the writing here with some focused poeticism within potent storytelling, despite some questionable lines that are bad, but not to the levels it’s been memified like that of “going back to 1830 without the racists” line on “I Hate It Here.” Though if we’re being honest, much of the writing isn’t as cringe as people make it out to be, these examples are just more glaring because they come out of left field like “You smokеd, then ate seven bars of chocolate/We declared Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist/I scratch your head, you fall asleep” from the title song. It’s easy to make these assessments and say much of it is poor; however, we get some approaches that can be mediocre, but you give it some points for being something new as a finite product. So it’s there and can cause some slight pause, but Swift is consistent and comes with some highlights, especially on the Dressner productions and “Fortnight.”

“Fortnight” starts the album on a sobering note with one of Antonoff’s better co-productions, this time alongside Louis Bell, a vocal producer she’s worked with on Lover; he gives both Taylor Swift and Post Malone great synchronization, layering the vocals so beautifully that it makes you forget about the tepid production that relies too much on its strings. This lover’s tale of two humans, antithesis of each other, speaks glowingly about their lust through their lavish vocals; unfortunately, that doesn’t reflect positively with “Florida!!!” where Florence Welch outshines Swift as a writer and performer, making something out of a predominately weak track. It follows a thematically resonating track in “Fresh Out The Slammer,” which is equally weak. It further shows a lingering disappointment from the quality emanating from Antonoff, despite understanding this output and current status level already adding to the saturation. It doesn’t fully benefit her that relatability has shifted now considering her new level of superstardom, especially the overexposure—she tackles that on the album, and only one of which feels centered and authentic to her (the final song). However, it’s easy to separate the two and look for what can get delivered, especially as Swift keeps us close to her life, and shockingly telling off the Swifties.

As evident through the years, Taylor Swift draws from her romantic life to establish these wonderful compositions that elevate meaning through tone, like “Never Grow Up” off Speak Now or “Dear John,” and that isn’t a knock; as she focuses on her relationship with Matt Healy from The 1975, here, and at one point Swift calls her fans saboteurs “But Daddy I Love Him,” and mostly because of the outcry over Healy’s past problematic situations. She doesn’t want the outside noise to be a factor in maneuvering her personal decisions, a subject she leans on with the final track of the album “Clara Bow,” named after the actress who left the limelight due to the stress of fame, amongst other factors. It’s a solid track that reaches, but it’s good to see Taylor Swift successfully deliver something self-aware and non-cringe like the contentious “Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me,” where she aims at the media and their perception of her, or the equally try-hard “The Alchemy.” It makes “So Long, London” more powerful, and “loml,” as she aims Joe Awlyn, her ex, the latter via a commitment angle. We’ve had reports in the past where Taylor Swift assumed he was the one, but as quiet as the relationship was, this builds into the histrionics of it. How she weaves them makes them a standout, benefiting quite a bit from Aaron Dressner’s production.

The Tortured Poets Department has replayable hits from Taylor Swift, especially as a vocal performer, i.e., the melodies and harmonies bolstering others. Still, Jack Antonoff doesn’t help as you get composites of sounds we’ve heard before or more so doesn’t do much to make it pop, that even Swift’s talents can supersede its mediocrity. Though that isn’t to say there isn’t solid synergy here and there between the two; “Guilty As Sin?” sees Taylor Swift at some of her horniest, as she plays to being with someone was the antithesis of her political grandstanding from her 2019 documentary Miss Americana. It’s fantastic via minimalism. “Down Bad” uses spacial allusions like beam teleportation and planets to expound on this relationship she’s describing. It’s fantastic via minimalism. “I Can Do It With A Broken Heart” feels like a throwaway from Midnights but it’s fun as Antonoff strides in doing less. There is enough here to enjoy, but it’s mostly an oversaturation of nothing that doesn’t offer much to replay or reflect on. I wanted to like The Tortured Poets Department as any Swift fan, but it lacks the juice to make me care much for it, especially seeing how reflective it is toward her current status in life.

The Tortured Poets Department is a formidable project for Taylor Swift as she tries to keep it grounded in reality. But her reality is warped, and the writing is evidence of that, even if the quality is good, relativity strays from what we’ve gotten in the past. It’s hard for me to love this as much as others, but it has some quality moments to reflect on, specifically, the Dressner tracks as they have more juice than whatever Antonoffs making. At least the music isn’t total crap, and I can get something out of it, but it won’t be one that I go to as often as others like 1989 and Folklore.

Rating: 6 out of 10.

Maggie Rogers – Don’t Forget Me: Review

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Maggie Rogers has always been at odds with genres, formulating these intricate pieces of pop that elevate past the greater plains of Alaska. She’s trying new things and retaining a sense of self without having fans think about any change made within her artistry; it’s authentically her—through thick and thin Rogers continues to find new avenues to explore, and with her latest album, Don’t Forget Me, she does that with sheer greatness. Don’t Forget Me is unlike previous records. Rogers and co-producer Ian Fitchuk (Kacey Musgraves’s main producer), weave together something more intimate with structurally fluid instrumentations that radiate through a sonic motif that starts and ends with a lack of synths. It’s playing less to the tinges of danceable pop, with something more nuanced in Folk and Soft-Pop Rock, an honest detachment I’ve seen coming, especially as Rogers’ 2023 was full of memorable moments and sharing stages with legendary performers/singers. Still, she channels artists like Carly Simon, Emmylou Harris, Joni Mitchell, and Rita Coolidge. Don’t Forget Me caught me by surprise, and in a majorly positive way; the tracks have lavish fluidity and tender depth, making it Rogers’s best work to date.

Don’t Forget Me isn’t perfect, as glowing as I may sound. Still, it’s damn near that, especially when it never placates style, keeping the focus on a steady path toward modernized pop nostalgia, one where the overtures from external genre influence mold into the production, and the subtle tinges make you hear something profoundly new. With “Drunk,” you instantly hear the twangy country-folk strings on a slight reverb open this more commodified but nuanced take on 70s Country-Pop-Rock; it comes after a smooth and minimalistic profound production, that exemplifies the album’s co-driver, the vocals. They radiate differences, burning depth into the paper as the lyrics offer a sense of wonder, even if you have some typical linings like its abundance of different sonic complexions that root out the strengths in her vocals, like the elevated flows of “On & On & On” and “If Now Was Then.” It’s humbling, but more so because it is a platform set up to elevate Rogers’s beautiful voice, without the guise of something grand like “Honey” or “Retrograde,” compared to some of the more stripped-down songs on previous albums where these songs appear. It finally feels like she’s letting loose while also delivering her I’m HERE album.

What I mean by that, is that this is the album where Maggie Rogers will finally reach the heights one expected when we saw the video of Pharrell Williams being surprised by her rough cut of “Alaska” during her studies at NYU. Though the production doesn’t aim to be like the past, you can tell there is something special here. I love how more band-like it feels, where you can hear the rugged layers of the instruments colliding to create something unique and refreshing, like the lively “The Kill!.” Like it, much of the album feels like a time capsule, weaving dustier textures into its production, like with “Never Going Home” and “If Now Was Then” and how It reminded of 90s country-pop, like Wrecking Ball by Emmylou Harris—these songs also highlights one aspect of Maggie Rogers that shines above all, her writing, especially as a storyteller; someone who can paint the picture and let the pre-chorus or chorus speak like an internalized emotional monologue. Rogers is singing about doubts, memories, and love, but does it so mercurially that the parallels heighten when listening to the lyrics and the emotional impact.

It’s exponentially heightened in her ballad “I Still Do,” and it’s focus on the harmfulness of making it work when a relationship needs a break or an end. It continues a thematic consistency that surrounds it with reflections and personal growth within relationships, while still allowing itself to balance interpersonal with personal, even when it is more of the latter. Love is an interesting concept that can get tiring due to a song’s construct, but Maggie Rogers doesn’t make it so, like with “So Sick of Dreaming,” which focuses on individuality instead of wishful thinking. Unfortunately, some instruments may give you a step back, as sometimes playing it safe, but that can be fine based on the impact of other elements. However, that feels purposeful for the fluidity that comes from the writing and melodies created by Rogers, inflecting more of the known. One favorite is “Drunk,” which adds some danceable melodies to its delivery, invoking a higher presence as if you hit positive drunk levels without the alcohol. As well, themes may overlap, but the music’s technical qualities bolster these songs above the fray, though more glaringly with “Never Going Home,” which I adore. 

Don’t Forget Me capitalizes on its title, making the listener remember Maggie Rogers for months, and years to come as her evolutions as an artist is one fans will cherish. For non-fans, the album finds footing in creating a grounded spectacle that wallows through your brain like harmonious chimes on a cool, breezy summer day. It isn’t to say previous releases were weaker because of aesthetics or production, but we get something that elevates Rogers more than the synth-laced heaters of her last two albums. This one keeps itself realized through unique instrumentations colliding with the vocals smoothly, making it one sequential flow of greatness. I loved it a lot, and there is only hope in thinking you may as well; give it a listen and let me know what you think!

Rating: 9 out of 10.

Nia Archive – Silence is Loud: Review

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Throughout the last few years, we’ve seen a wave of an ever-growing presence in pop’s attraction and homogenization of club/electronic music. Some have done so with gusto, creating these hybrids that can pack a punch, like Romy’s debut, or flounder like Yaeji’s debut album, With A Hammer, but when it hits a high, they become everlasting. UK DJ/Singer-Songwriter Nia Archives doesn’t acclimate to such, opting to focus on identity via love, paralleling some themes to the production. Her debut is titled Silence Is Loud, Nia Archives delivers something without real pop music tones and mediates within a core function that blends Soul/R&B/Indie-Rock notes with Jungle, giving it a new face that expands beyond the apropos, widening the gap between the exasperated and bombastic tracks of her EPs (comparatively) to a more subdued take on Jungle/Drum-N-Bass affluent production that brings out different complexions in the vocals.  Unfortunately, some homogenized percussion with swift pacing makes it a fleeting experience you want to replay to get out all the juice, especially because it isn’t a perfect album;  it’s a stellar debut that showcases more than what we’ve been acclimated to, and Archive’s singing is the icing.

Reading Nia Archives’ write-up for Apple Music (avail. on Genius) adds context to the music and its meaning (I love it), and what stuck with me was what she wrote about how the opening title track; it’s about the love she shares for her brother, even if she doesn’t say it. As someone with a sibling, I know some can relate, where sharing that love is less vocal and more showy; thinking about the latter, it speaks to how silence can still hold significant weight, but to her, it’s less of a misnomer, as her meaning has more depth than just this notion that your silence is deafening. The subtle vocals and melancholy tones offer much to the enigmatic percussion that emanates throughout. It makes the album more of a worthwhile listen—despite the pacing, it maneuvers swiftly through all 13 tracks, feeling like each track has its rewarding presence, but there is still that lingering itch that makes you wish it lasted longer. However, that doesn’t discredit the quality of the music, as it continues to reinvent the subtleties that elevate the production further, like the twangy strings on “Cards On The Table” or the indie rock aesthetics of “Crowded Roomz” and “Tell Me What It’s Like.”

Silence Is Loud modestly tries to expand its horizons with the production, even if it takes a small step back by keeping some of its core base breakbeat infusions mildly similar, dropping more onus on Nia Archives to create impact. That homogenization can become tiring for the track “Out of Options,” where it isn’t as bombastic and you can hear it more; Archives vocals balance it out, but it doesn’t take away the disappointment. Still, the production has the quality to keep it afloat through a few tracks within and around the middle, like “Forbidden Feelingz,” “Nightmares” and “Out of Option;” Archives does enough to tie it together, weaving something unique and more subdued compared to her more bombastic records of prior; when listening to how the loud clashing of percussion weaves itself in a nuanced fashion on the album, it showcases Archives’ fantastic vocals through the riotous layers, offering some catchy hooks, while having its identity stand out. It’s more personable to the experience as she relishes in the genres that got her into music and allows her to emanate some anxiety and other emotions, giving it more to love.

Co-produced with Ethan P. Flynn, a frequent collaborator, they deliver an album with a throughline, never displacing itself for a systematic interpersonal anthem. Though that is a total dig at artists who do because I tend to be a fan of many, that’s more stagnant and dependent on the expected direction the artist takes with the album, of course, but Archives choosing to be more of herself gives it more latching power as an identity piece. It makes tracks like “Killjoy!” and “So Tell Me…” such powerhouses, especially the latter where its pop tinges are inadvertent, giving weight to the atmospheric textures over the enigmatic production. “F.A.M.I.L.Y” is another track that shows its hand, as its modest simplistic percussion patterns are profound like the meaning of family to Nia Archives, a contrast to the more spacey but hype “Blind Devotion.” It leaves you latching to tracks for more than just the positives from the writing and vocals of Archives, especially with a track like “Crowded Roomz,” where its indie rock influence adds parallels to its themes of loneliness and sadness. It uses the setting of a crowded space to amplify that notion, like the antithesis to “Dancing On My Own” by Robyn.

I loved Nia Archives’ debut, but as it turns out, there are some minor inconsistencies. These inconsistencies create a more tepid fluidity that may have some taken aback, especially when the genre/style of the production is from the typical trend of House and EDM influences in music. It’s more like Avalon Emerson’s album than it is something like Romy’s. I loved it for being itself, even if it takes some minor safe routes too, but it all acquiesces into a cohesive flow that will make anyone a fan, even if you weren’t before. From the writing to the production, there is significant synergy that was memorable between production and vocals and that is all I need to have my ears melt with musical glee.

Rating: 8 out of 10.

Fabiana Palladino – Fabiana Palladino: Review

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Emerging from the depths of the Paul Institute (a venture taken by elusive artist Jai Paul and his brother A. K. Paul) was Fabiana Palladino. I’ve known of Paul and his music via friends, and have dabbled minimally; however, when receiving recommendations via articles and singles, it was safe to say my intrigue for Palladino’s debut album, Fabiana Palladino, wasn’t a fleeting one—so as I sat back and played it, I understood why she is one to keep an eye on. Unfortunately, the positives don’t substantially outweigh the negatives; it leaves you with intrigue for a burgeoning career. The negatives are the lukewarm production that looks to ooze out the everlasting and sobering neon lights of vibe-driven pop club sounds of the 80s, leaning heavily into synths as a steering wheel. It’s more whimsical pop-R&B music alla artists like Kate Bush, Prince, and Vesta Williams, though not as potently consistent. Palladino is weaving these influences into something cohesive and fluid, but she predominately makes it safe, never popping in the ears. I wanted to like this more than I did, but sometimes it felt like it wasn’t picking up, even with a solid opener and closer.

It’s safe to say I was modestly disappointed, but it still left me feeling optimistic because of how Fabiano Palladino’s self-titled album starts and ends. “Closer” opens the album with this more empathetic and loverly Soul/R&B pop hybrid that focuses heavily on the percussion’s rhythm, elevating her vocals and giving us something tender and enlightening. “Forever” is more minimalist, focusing more on the vocals to whisk you away on a melancholy note, even though you’re hearing Palladino’s vulnerability. However, what comes in between is inconsistent. It wavers between some heavier and neat 80s aesthetic pop-R&B and more tepid productions, despite keeping it centered and focused in one cohesive direction. Much of it plays it safe. The production doesn’t take chances, rarely feeling provocative. It’s as if she’s taking these sonic influences and carefully constructing them without some sense of chaos. “I Can’t Dream Anymore,” “Give Me A Sign,” and “Deeper,” never get as elaborative or loose as “In The Fire” or “Can You Look In The Mirror.” It’s less meandering and more reflective of an artist trying to stabilize and field identity and set herself up for an expansive career as more music gets produced.

The production being what it is, the element of surprise dwindles as the music tapers into the conventional for retro. It doesn’t know when to be provocative or add some flavor beyond synths, being more just fundamentalist consistency. Playing it safe doesn’t allow its session musicians to shine, making their inclusion feel for naught. It doesn’t flounder in quality, it flounders in its intuitiveness, especially when you have Rob Moose on strings, Steve Ferrone on drums, and her father, Pino Palladino on the bass, but that isn’t the case for all songs. Amongst other session performers, Fabiana Palladino is floating on a river of quaint fluidity, tiring you as the songs progress with slight mediocrity. Fortunately, there is some stuff to love about the album, beyond just lingering hope for growth, and that’s when Palladino’s vocals are in command, making the production feel fiduciary to the final construct. Some that become significant highlights are “I Care” and “Shoulda,” the latter of which creates magic with its strings and takes you on an entrenching journey of doubt. Compared to “I Can’t Dream Anymore” where it drones on without adding much with its synths, it keeps it rather dull, even if the vocals are consistent. 

“Stay With Me Through The Night” is the one track that has stuck with me the most, specifically because it does the retro-pop beautifully. From its production to its vocals, it has all the elements to make something grand, but for what surrounds it, it’s saying a lot. I wanted to like this more than I did, but it doesn’t have the juice to keep you from start to finish. If it did, I’d be more positive about the woven intricacies of the album, but as it flows, there is little to latch on to. When reflecting on its retro notes, there is something to behold and understand from the production, but sometimes you want more pizzazz when you think of retro. And it isn’t this want or need from her, but more that the production could’ve been better, whether more in-song transitions or more elevated instrumentations connecting in sync. It becomes more disappointing when you have tracks like “Stay With Me Through The Night,” “I Care,” and “In The Fire” being so memorable. I didn’t hate the album, I did enjoy it for what it was aiming to do and I’m glad it gets close enough for me even to say that despite my lukewarm reaction, it is still worth a shot.

Rating: 6 out of 10.

Young Miko – att: Review

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My profound admiration for Young Miko as this emerging star will never dissipate as the music she delivers rarely disappoints, even with some of the more skippable returns on occasion. I spoke positively in a piece I wrote last year, where I highlighted her artistry and explained why I loved the music so far; more importantly, I stressed why following her musical journey will be something special, and as someone who has been trailing, that specialness continues to shine with her debut album att. It’s a lavish surprise that expounds on the sounds heard with Trap Kitty and builds something new and different, giving fans a different side where she showcases more than what we’ve heard before. It isn’t all reggaeton or Latin trap, instead, she focuses on feeling authentic and not confined by the parameters of music to make more fun, but prevalent pop music. Like her whimsical R&B-Pop textures of the love song “Curita,” the enigmatic reggeaton flavored “ID,” and the House-centric flows of “Madre,” Young Miko is continuing to explore her horizons while also displaying a sense of identity, even when it comes with some minor rough edges.

Young Miko opens att with this boastful re-introduction where she places herself on this hierarchy of newcomers that have made a significant impact, i.e. what the Rookie of The Year is in sports. Aptly titled “Rookie of The Year,” Miko uses the first minute of the song to reminisce about her growth since “105 Freestyle” from a few years back through this sobering production that gets slightly elevated as it transitions in song to something that elevates the humbling nature into something more boastful and fun. The latter is more so a common trait of her music as it maneuvers and blends into other styles like “Wiggy,” which reminds me a lot of mid-2000s radio-play Hip-Hop that preceded the Trap trend; a time when Hip-Hop had little leeway to be experimental and popping simultaneously. Young Miko subverts that with her use of samples and her flows, making a highlight like the intro song, and songs “Curita,” “ID,” “Oye Ma’,” “Tamagotchi,” and “Tres Tristes Tragos.” These bring new tinges to the fray, giving us significant highs, even when the song-to-song transitions aren’t its strong suit, especially as it changes on a dime so frequently.

Lyrically, Miko’s music can tread through some familiarity with what has become known to be so for reggaeton music, however, her more sultry writing and directness add depth that is reminiscent of when Lil Kim burst on the scene with 1995’s Hardcore. She looks at these themes and situations through an LGBTQI+ lense without catering or succumbing to the contrived elements of reggaeton, making her songs more refreshing, like how with “F**k TMZ” and how she focuses on privacy as a public figure through a smooth but mild hip-hop beat, or when she’s flexing as it reflects her energy and style. Though one can feel that flexing is still flexing, the ingenuity behind flow and delivery with the beat can push it further. It’s evident with the following song “arcoíris,” where she opens the track getting down to the pussy lickety-split; Miko’s music is more than that, and as she assimilates different genres together, you notice that she’s a vocal chameleon. She isn’t a natural singer, but she knows how to let her range shine through what she can do and that’s what makes songs like “Curita” and “Tamagotchi” stand on their own.

Young Miko can rap, sing, and importantly, do so under different styles, like her more 2000s-centric hip-hop blend in “arcoíris” or the electric-crunk blend in “Princess Peach,” continuing to reflect some of that 2000s aesthetic. Though the aesthetic is focused and offers a refreshing insight into what is deemed retro for these new artists—since it’s becoming evident with this new generation, nostalgia has superseded the 80s and 90s—we’re seeing more of 2000s Eurodance, pop, and hip-hop/R&B, becoming more of an impactful influence. “F**k TMZ” has some of that vibe with its minimalistic percussion as subtle vinyl scratches and synths weave something more in tune with this directional flow constructed. “Oye Ma” blends some of that mid-00s reggaeton with modern trap, making something unique and original that builds arguments for someone to keep the album on a loop. I know I did, especially as the two preceding singles amounted to hype that met the levels expected. The singles being complete contrasts of each other made it something intriguing to look forward to and though debuts aren’t perfect, it’s there to sell you on an artist and whether you want more music from them; I can say it’s safe to say, this makes me want more and more.

Att isn’t transitionally fluid, with its constant production changes, but that isn’t as much of a hindrance as the music doesn’t always flounder—the floundering moments being “No Quiere Peliar” and “Offline,” which sound more surface layer to the genres it blends it incorporates, and the vocals can’t elevate them further than skippable; however, for the rest it has this kineticism that makes it a treat to return to. Additionally, with “Offline,” Feid doesn’t offer much to latch onto, despite having such a tremendous run recently. Though a slight negative, too, the pacing can be a slight deterrent as it goes by swiftly. It makes the album feel shorter than its 16-track/43-minute run time, and there is a part of me that wishes her BZRAP session became a hit for the album to occupy the space taken up by “Offline,” but that’s here nor there, as I evaluate based on what I got, and what I got was some significant highs. These faults are needed to show some humanity and humility and further show how raw and personal Young Miko can be, and it makes way listeners to return.

It’s safe to say Att is a fantastic debut that delivers in more ways than not. It does have its mild stumbles, but what debut doesn’t? It makes the album feel more human as you can tell what may have been flowing through their mind. I know Young Miko was crafting a lot with her producers and they come forth matching her quality of work exponentially. Give it a spin and let me know your thoughts, as its fortuitous highs are so significantly high and the lows are just washable forget-me-nots.

Rating: 8 out of 10.

Kacey Musgraves – Deeper Well: Review

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After Kacey Musgraves gave us the phenomenal Golden Hour, her life began to change on a personal front—she divorced Ruston Kelly, her husband, a Country/Americana singer-songwriter, and what stemmed from it was Star-Crossed, her last album, which took a personal journey that detailed the extent of Musgraves heartbreak, and the motions to move on. That latter notion becomes a reflection point for Musgraves, seemingly finding herself amidst the change. Deeper Well eloquently reflects it through the writing and production, showcasing how vibrant it can go. Within her generation and new, Kacey Musgraves sees and hears what connects to offer complexions reminiscent of the genre’s influence, like that of Folk or Blues. These tender genres have spiritually been affluent to emotive music deep-rooted in the soul and show how personally revealing Musgraves is with her words. Unfortunately, the music doesn’t carry such consistency; some mild production and writing don’t give it balance, having Musgraves’s vocals become the X factor that makes or breaks a song, even if it treads familiarity.

The production of Deeper Well trends positively, but others become detractors as it begins to play it safe with its minimalist or pop approach, bringing more reliance on Kacey Musgraves’s vocals to balance it into a remarkable memory. One such is the first three tracks, “Cardinal,” “Deeper Well,” and “Too Good To Be True,” which hearten each other with the connecting tissues that come from the idea of growth. “Cardinal” speaks to the loss of a friend; here, it’s John Prine, and as Musgraves aims to lament, she witnesses a cardinal. Cardinals are like a message from the afterlife, as if one’s spirit flows through them to see you to ensure you never feel loneliness. It’s a tender song that establishes the sentiments Musgraves provides throughout the rest of the album, all centering back on the idea of self-growth, like realizing the split between dreams and reality within a relationship on “Too Good To Be True,” or realizing and loving the little things in life that don’t overbear you, and to cut out the bad with “Deeper Well.” They all highlight what makes much of the album worth a chance, even if I was mildly disappointed comparatively.

Musgraves’s vocals empower and maneuver music. When it gets modestly pop-like, it doesn’t take that step forward. It makes listening to the album feel more like a second literary work that is doubling down on the anecdotes from the first album, especially as the themes overlay through an album that represents, in a way, new beginnings. By expressing that, we get more perspectives on life (whether past or present), but as creative as Musgraves and her co-writers get, not all stand out. Here, I’m specifically talking about “Heart of the Woods,” “Sway,” and “Jade Green,” the latter of which I like, but they do anything creative with their contextual metaphors. “Anime Eyes,” “The Architect,” and “Lonely Millionaire” are significant highlights as she tries to sing about different things, like “The Architect” and the focus on life, earth, and spirituality, and the latter speaks to the depression and loneliness of fame, despite what the exterior tells. It speaks louder because we are in the social media era, where posts can perpetuate a life and feeling that is the opposite. Another highlight is “Dinner With Friends,” which focuses on varying places and actions done with friends that feel like home, even when away from home, but the production doesn’t have the mirroring gravitas.

The production is the weakest part of Deeper Well, primarily because it doesn’t try to extend its reach, drawing little from the percussion and evolving it within some of the more folk-like songs. “Moving Out” is one example of such, as it treads a familiar line without flexing tempos based on the note. It’s direct and fluid, but it doesn’t have the lavish sizzle of “Jade Green,” where the percussion and synths get exemplified through subtle pasting of the chords from the guitar, bass, viola, and cello. The former is more folk-pop, while the latter plays more to country, but it feels that the pop plays it safe, rarely letting the layers marinate, unlike the country one, which is as vibrant as center stage lights. It isn’t for all songs; “The Alchemist” keeps the minimalism focused with the acoustic guitar steering notes from the banjo and piano into a sobering meditation on life. “Anime Eyes” follows suit with twinkly chords and cherry blossom-blooming vibes. “Lonely Millionaire” brings an effervescent atmosphere that takes you to one of those divey basement clubs where a three-piece band plays a soft-rock track that uses synths and percussion to round it in a gloomy but growing bravado. 

It’s safe to say I wish I liked Deeper Well more than I did, but when you have standards set by Golden Hour, it’s not hard to see the modest decline. It’s a great minimalist album that understands the conjectures of what it wants to say but more so as an attachment to her past album, as it continues to explore more about emotions, humanity, and nature. I know fans will get something from this album; hell, they may even find some of the weaker songs better than me, but as it stands, I can’t help but feel like most of this album will end up staying forgettable until we get another “High Horse” like anthem from her. Maybe she won’t, but one thing is clear: her vocals never flounder.

Rating: 6 out of 10.

Tierra Whack – World Wide Whack: Review

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When Tierra Whack dropped Whack World in 2018, she showcased what her potential could reach while slowly matriculating a name for herself through features and some EPs in 2021. Those EPs reflected different genre conventions heard through a decadent array of focused tracks compared to the one-minute songs on Whack World. She takes both and morphs it into something unique and expansive on her debut album, World Wide Whack, where her talents don’t feel wasted, and you’re getting a tinge of what is to come the more Whack grows as an artist. She’s blunt—not one for mincing words as her music reflects her understanding of her self-worth, and the confidence emanating from it makes it refreshing as it doesn’t rely on overt metaphorical complexities, instead giving it to you straight while still having some death like the brilliant “Two Night.” World Wide Whack is a swift ride that tries to suck the juice from each song till there isn’t any left, but Whack has something to say, and introducing herself further is done magnificently, despite leaving you wanting more. It means I loved it as a debut despite some minor wavering issues.

Unlike Whack World, World Wide Whack is fuller as songs are more constructed to have definitive starts and ends. She isn’t necessarily giving us something homogenized in one direction, instead (nearly seamlessly) finding ways to balance songs that may not interconnect even if reflecting the same genre sounds. It shows from the colorful and fun “Channel Pit” to the more bashful and nuanced rap on “Numb,” where sentiments from the title’s dictionary definition are reflected in her voice as she flows on the track. With Hip-Hop being a cornerstone area that is fluid to Tierra Whack, courage gets shown with more comfortability expressed in her singing. After a more percussion-laced heater in “X,” we get that with the beautifully designed “Moovies,” where R&B-Pop textures intertwine and showcase a tender side to Whack as she sings about the intricacies of movie dates. From the hook to the verses, it’s one of the definitive highlights, specifically as it keeps it straight and on track, leaving the percussion simple by comparison, which allows Whack to shine in a new light, different from the brain-fried singing complementary to “Brain Burning,” it’s one helluva debut.

Like the album’s title, World Wide Whack, the world is vast for Tierra Whack, and she knows it. It’s why the album doesn’t feel constrained to one linear direction and allows this myriad of sounds to interconnect with a sense of ease. Many songs have the casings of a smooth, modernistic boom-bap percussion base as others incorporate Jazz, Funk, and R&B through unique factions like the funkadelic “Shower Song,” which sees Whack rapping and singing with the confidence one shows singing in the shower, as all shame and nervousness subsides because it’s just you and the water, and reflects that to a worldview. These interconnecting sounds give her album more character than the limited Whack World, almost as if you’re getting a surprise with each transition, like as she goes from the confident “Ms Behave” to the quirky but oh-so catchy “Channel Pit” or more hardened reflection about the people who have supported her from the start of her career with “Snake Eyes,” interplaying with notions of luck with brilliance.  

The music has a specific flow that allows for the meat of the content to maneuver through the middle of the album, as with tracks like “Accessible,” “Numb,” “X,” “Difficult,” and “Invitation,” where some of her most profound works shine, despite it being an overall delight to go through. The highs show through the intricate and courageously colorful production, even if mostly centered on Hip-Hop. Equally as courageous is Tierra Whack going through without a feature. It allows for a lavish picture of her person without sidestepping for a verse that takes away from her story. It’s a testament to her craft because the singing shines more than the rapping, and that’s one aspect that I will lament on, as it offers proper synergy. Unfortunately, this journey with Tierra Whack isn’t all perfect. Tierra Whack’s bluntness is a positive and a negative, where sometimes you don’t get enough around the edges to expand further, but there is a consistency to not leaving you bewildered with what it wants to say. It’s what separates the fun but minimally efficacious “Shower Song” from the more profound “Two Night.”

Tierra Whack delivers a fantastic album that showcases her talent expeditiously, even during the downer moments. Her ear for production flows beautifully with weaving her vocals through raps or singing graciously, elevating what one expected, especially as the album comes six years later than expected. But if Whack World showed us anything, it was worth the wait because World Wide Whack delivers and then some. There’s no denying I loved the album, even with the minor issues I couldn’t look over, but seeing and hearing Whack and understanding who she is and what she wants to deliver makes it all worthwhile. I know it’s one album I will loop all year, and I hope the same latches on to you, the reader, and (or) fans of her work.

Rating: 8 out of 10.