Sunday, May 8, 2016
I’m beginning to view my friend Emma Lewis as some sort of harbinger of entertainment doom. Back in January when I posted a review of David Bowie’s fantastic new album, Blackstar, on to my blog, I sent a copy to her on the fourth day of the year and six days later, I woke up early in the morning and read a very polite tweet she sent: a developing BBC report that Bowie was dead. Fast-forward to three months later, and I returned home after a supermarket run and there was another Emma tweet about Prince and his death. It took a while for the realization to hit but as I reached for the remote to turn on the TV, I sat down fearing the worst. Emma’s tweet had struck again!
The passing of both musicians dominated the news cycle over a twenty-four hour period, only punctured by the scant official information from their respective families and an even scanter burial process. In an era where everyone has a short attention span to any one news item for too long, it was touching to see stations like BBC and CNN break away from the new normal and stick with their coverage. But many younger music fans wondered why? Neither Bowie nor Prince were even on the pop charts at the time of their deaths even though neither had completely gone away from the realm of music. Here in Jamaica, the “Billboard generation” were in unison trying to figure out who the hell David Bowie was. Some even had no idea who Prince was until they heard “Purple Rain”. For some, not even that helped.
While Bowie’s influence as an artist may be harder for them to recognise immediately, it’s difficult to imagine why Prince was drawing so many blanks: he would occasionally be played on local radio or even at the soul music section of every dance/club right there with Michael Jackson and Whitney Houston. Personally, if I had I been a teenager in 1984, ‘Purple Rain’ fever would have no doubt engulfed me but all I remember of that year honestly was the Los Angeles Olympics and Merlene Ottey. It would take my high school years and Marlon James to bring Prince squarely in my music appreciation. Back then, James was writing brilliant music reviews for the Observer and Prince was mentioned in every single one of them. Bowie featured at times too. James would use both men to illustrate how daring an artist could be and how fearless, especially when bending the rules of pop music to serve their own purposes. But it wasn’t just their music that bonded fans to them, it was their unique style and fashion that transcended gender norms and challenged convention shamelessly and with very little restraint. Where Bowie applied gaudy mascara and dresses to confuse us with ambiguity, Prince put on pumps and writhed his hips as a call to arms and still got your girlfriend. Both were foraging into untapped version of pop music and culture, building glorious uncertainties along the way, both springing fully formed from the mount of the well Little Richard originated.
I came across a Popmatters article written by Joseph Vogel that explained how Prince was depicted as a sort of licentious rebel. He was deemed as the raw, self-taught genius from the streets of Minneapolis and sex and transgression. The same applies to Bowie but his aesthetic was unreservedly rebellious, queer even. He drew all the freakish fringe groups in society unto himself long before Madonna collected her underground gays and Lady Gaga had her little monsters. Bowie originated the school of thought that pop stars must continually change up their approach with every album, that they embrace technology and new music ideals. The 1970s saw him morphing from gender-identity questioning (Hunky Dory) to alien sexual life-force (The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust & The Spiders From Mars) to total music abolitionist (The Berlin trilogy). And, in America, it was Prince who took up this challenge long before it was fashionable to do so. Prince didn’t just bask in the task of shocking fans with lyrics but with performances too. Even before Purple Rain cemented his status of legend, albums like Dirty Mind (1980), Controversy (1981) and 1999 (1982) had ingrained in the American collective that some sexual yet undeniably beautiful monster was raring to get out of him.
Several leading music publications have since lauded Bowie as the most influential rock artist of all time and it’s pretty hard to disagree with them. If we say Bob Dylan is the greatest cultural solo artist in music history, no one can deny that but Dylan’s influence is so encompassing of American culture that he remains an unlikely figure-head for anyone in this generation to even want to replicate. Mark you, Dylan influenced Bowie but not musically, just in the sheer stubborn way geniuses develop music. Like Prince, Bowie was a genius one deemed friendly enough to copy or to openly gush about. You could imagine jamming at a concert with both or grabbing a pint—Dylan, not so much. A huge part of it is the willingness of these artists to realise their scope on pop culture and respond to it. Look no further than Bowie’s “Changes” and its open-ended meaning. Both men were able to operate within a chart-driven industry too yet not be slaves to Billboard numbers in the pursuit of their craft. Who can forget when Prince stopped using his name and sported a symbol on his face in protest over his contract? The money side of the industry didn’t interest him even though I’m sure he was proud of Purple Rain’s twenty-four consecutive weeks atop Billboard Albums chart, a feat that clearly won’t be duplicated.
Nor will their individual greatness ever been replicated but every time you listen to D’angelo, Miguel or even Frank Ocean, et al. you hear distinctly the influence of Prince. As for Bowie, every British artist from the last thirty years who has made it big in America owes him a debt. Yes, even your precious Adele (and she has acknowledged such). It not even just the young artists who are indebted but some even older. Prince gave Sinead O’Connor her break with “Nothing Compare To You”, Chaka Khan got “I Feel For You” and The Bangles got their first top 10 global hit when he rebooted “Manic Monday” for them. As I saw Stevie Wonder tear up on CNN with Anderson Cooper over Prince’s death and grappled with that---I mean, this was the iconic Stevie Wonder---I couldn’t help but feel the need to play “When Doves Cry” that night. I had done the same with Bowie’s “Young Americans”---both songs are perfect pop summations not only of the respective careers of both men but of the way they elevated music to an art-form. I haven’t stopped playing either since…
Thursday, April 21, 2016
Sunday, January 17, 2016
Top New Show:
AMERICAN CRIME: from Oscar winner, John Ridley, comes a gripping look at race relations in America, Each character has their own devils dealing with, irrespective of outward calm. Oh, and finally a show had the range and emotional connection to land the brilliant Regina King an Emmy. (ABC)
the rest (in no particular order):
UNBREAKABLE KIMMY SCHMIDT: looked away by a cult, Kimmie emerges into the modern world to hilarious results. (NETFLIX)
ANOTHER PERIOD: follows the lives of the Bellacourts, the first family of Newport, Rhode Island, at the turn of the 20th century with all the slapstick it can muster. (COMEDY CENTRAL)
GRACE AND FRANKIE: two women find themselves thrown in a tailspin when both their husbands come out as gay—and want to marry each other. As expected when Lily Tomlin is around, a lot of mayhem ensues. (NETFILX)
ASH VS THE EVIL DEAD: somehow from the ashes of 1980s cheese horror films, this return of Ash feels fresh and funny. (STARZ)
FRESH OFF THE BOAT: Eddie is a young Asian-American with a fetish for black hip/hop being grown up with two younger brothers and a mom as serious as a job. (ABC)
CRAZY EX-GIRLFRIEND: I usually hate anything parading as a musical but this is a clear winner. (CW)
BLUNT TALK: Patrick Stewart stars as a newscaster slowly losing it amid the hectic pace of his life. (STARZ)
CATASTROPHE: the British version of You’re The Worst, just way funnier and more raunchy. (CHANNEL 4)
THE GRINDER: when a beloved TV drama actor (Rob Lowe) leaves his show, he becomes a comedic burden to his poor younger brother (Fred Savage). (FOX)
Top New Show:
Monday, January 11, 2016
Monday, January 4, 2016
When David Bowie emerged three years ago with a new album (The Next Day) after a decade of virtual radio silence it caught everyone by surprise. Quite a feat for the pop/rock visionary: his entire career has been based on daring shock value complimenting his brilliant musical output. But the choice of Where Are We Now as lead single suggested a calmer, tamed Bowie, an old fartsy image to go along with his advancing age. Personally, I feared he was turning more into Leonard Cohen and less like Tom Waits. Okay, that’s a bit unfair to all three men but this is the man who gave the world Ziggy Stardust and androgyny to the music industry as a tool of fabulousness, so irrespective of his age, the stakes are always high.
In my summation of that album, I noted it “brims with shocking ferocity while revisiting his heyday of the 1970s but not stealing from it.” And listening to it now, this still holds true. Bowie has always had a genius for matching lyricism appropriately with vocals, as evident on the entire DNA of If You Can See Me but for his trademark intensity, only You Feel So Lonely You Could Die truly matched what came before it.
No such restraint with Blackstar, as evident by the title track (also the lead single). Released in November, the track is a creepy reminder of the visionary Bowie is: it’s a three-tier track that starts out with a subtle jazzy texture and him mumbling over abstract lyrics before mutating into a darker, funkier chant, “I’m not a pop star/ I’m a black star…” repeated sublimely until the track peters out. In short, fantastic Bowie is back.
It’s the sore thumb standout but the remaining six tracks that complete the album are not filters by any means, instead they’re jazz/pop tracks that move with ease and groovy pace. Two are particularly phenomenal: Tis A Pity She Was A Whore is Bowie like we haven’t heard in ages, almost drunk-raving mad with a propulsive electronic beat juxtaposed to blissful horns. The frantic beats and his atonal vocal work shouldn’t go so well together but damn if it doesn’t shoot its own load successfully. What makes this so stunning is the fact that this is a superior reworking of a track he did two years ago that served as a B-side to another song included on Blackstar (Sue (Or in a Season of Crime)), almost as if he revisited them and realized the switch was needed. Besides, no one can spin a frantic piece of pop like Bowie—well ever since Prince lost his way—and wiggle out of it just as frantically as he went in. There’s also I Can’t Give Everything Away, where an ethereal groove plays the perfect foil to his, “seeing more and saying less” scowl. As the closing song, we can see how it fits into the new Bowie reality.
The other songs on the album all benefit from Donny McCaslin’s tremendous saxophone work and the jazz team he carried with him, both working in tandem to be the album’s other clear choices of MVP. It’s also great to hear Bowie experiment with drum ‘n bass and let on that Kendrick Lamar influenced the album. One can’t help think the ending chorus of the title track was indeed a play on the rising prominence of the rapper merging into a global superstar. Either way, there’s no bigger compliment for a musician to get sake for Bob Dylan saying the same thing.
In avoiding making another rock album—by producer Tony Visconti’s own admission—David Bowie has surreptitiously turned into a new type of star at 69, the type that eludes the folly of his peers because he’s not trying to sound cool, he just fucking is cool. And that’s by not committing the often-made mistake of ripping his former self off or fronting with whichever flavor of the month musician is around. No, Bowie has simply reinvented himself and trusted that we’re open to his ongoing evolution. This lack of cynicism or chart-awareness matches his entry in pop culture and it’s clearly how our lovable Ziggy intends to ride out in the end.
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
A new year-end champ is crowned!
1.D’angelo Black Messiah: almost overnight, fifteen years of radio silence ended and the remarkable career of D’angelo resumed in the strongest way possible. We know he’s a perfectionist and its clear Black Messiah was worth the wait: you hear it in the sweetly-timed production one every song. The refrain in D’angelo’s voice isn’t praised enough but here it guides everything, like water gently cascading through a stream. He’s political too: The Charade keeps racial profiling in check with huge swathes of groove while Back To The Future takes prying eyes off his physique with nifty lyrics.
2. Kendrick Lamar To Pimp A Butterfly: modern-day masterpieces by Badu, D’angelo and Outkast come readily to mind when one imagines the playlist Kendrick must have been listening to when planning this album. It is a co-dependent relationship acknowledged, one he expertly masters time and time again on To Pimp A Butterfly, never skipping the truism emanating from the state of America’s constantly charged stance to the black male.
3. U.S. Girls Half-Free: as the second track of Meghan Remy’s remarkable album begins, a woozy reggae beats bleats out and when she utters the first line, Grace Jones pops out of her mouth. It’s a magical effect, one that Half-Free utilizes repeatedly, not caring if you’ve won over or not. In fact, Remy’s so confident of her goods that immediately she sneaks in the greatest interlude I’ve heard this decade, It’s a telephone conversation where she confesses that she was “hot stuff” as a little kid and sardonically ruing that she’s just another woman with low self-esteem. Low self-esteem dominates the rest of the album as the women in Remy’s tales get to work, settling into their bad choices and living silently with their lives.
4. John Grant Grey Tickles, Black Pressure: sometimes an artist has to undergo self-realization before the need to record becomes clear. Former Czars singer, John Grant has faced quite a lot the past few years and it shows on this stunning new album, one that Beck would kill for, with its deep-base pop and funk. Grant said he wanted to record an album in response to all the times someone called him a faggot. That makes Grey Tickles, Black Pressure his it-gets-better stand and a great one too.
5. Joanna Newsom Divers: five years ago, on the chorus (which she sang only once in the song) of Good Intentions Paving Company, I dawned on me that Newsom would have to bridge the gulf between her and adult contemporary fans put off by her fabulous lyricism. And here is Divers, that obvious compromise that sounds accessible yet still totally a Newsom project, one where only she could pull off. There’s no animal tale here or history legend sake for the absorbing Sapokanikan and yet Newsom reels us in, leaving us breathless from her steady, peerless craft.
6. Susanne Sundfor Ten Love Songs: while the music-buying public buys the new Adele record and swears she’s soul incarnate, critics are still in awe of Sundfor’s latest because its better, simpler and more soulful than 25 by a mile. This is the type of Nordic pop that has been topping year-end lists ever since we caught sight of Robyn. The opening arc here—all the way to the majestic Fade Away—is so awe-inspiring, so full of pure vocal magnificent that you’ll find yourself putting them on loop for days.
7. Julia Holter Have You In My Wilderness: Domino Records is virtually maintaining its own fabulous collection of freak/folk artists and now Julia Holter has finally put out the album that feels right at home. Right from the whimsical opening two tracks, the album draws you into its universe of sparse beats and her wild imagination. Joanna Newsom better watch out: there’s a new baroque pop deity rising.
8. Miguel Wildheart: at the same time when The Weeknd went mainstream only to lose his unique soul identity, Miguel fully realized his. Wildheart is a slinky collection of grooves that jangle with pop, hip/hop and alternative. And he doesn’t shy away from the corn-dog sex this new school tend to focus on but, here at last, he’s mastered it.
9. Grimes Art Angels: it’s hard to realize that Claire Boucher has been away for three years but her absence did make our hearts grow fonder for her insanely-catchy electronic music. With every release, Grimes has been embracing pop and Art Angels is no different, even if it’s a sort of night-life, DIY jigsaw model that no one else does better.
10. Siskiyou Nervous: never heard of this Canadian band before, then join the club but it’s no surprise why it’s on the long list for the Polaris prize. Lead singer, Colin Huebert. Has a tremulous voice and his band quietly plays up, molding their sound to get in sync. Nervous is an apt title because the tension throughout the record feels in grating, personal yet deliciously so.
Monday, December 14, 2015
Here at last is the final section--closing out the year with history: for the first time since I started this list in 2007, one artist has four (4) songs in the top 10. Also, by virtue of having three (3) previous songs in the top 10, the artist (Kendrick Lamar) has passed Noah Lennox for the person with most overall top 10 songs (7).
Lamar, by virtue of claiming the top spot, now is the first artist on my lists to have a #1 album and #1 song....
It's been a titanic year for him but the rest as well. Here goes:
1.The Blacker The Berry (Kendrick Lamar feat. Assassin): is the obvious reference to the upheaval and hurt blacks still feel at police brutality post Trayvon Martin and Ferguson ( ‘sometimes I get off watchin’ you die in vain/ its such a shame/ they may call me crazy/ but homie you made me/ black don’t crack, my nigga…’). And that’s what makes The Blacker The Berry such a great song: amid the maelstrom of superlative production and lyricism, Lamar keeps everything dead honest and vulnerable. And unabashedly black.
Kendrick Lamar Ft Assassin- The Blacker The... by rawpa-crawpa
2. Fade Away (Susanne Sundfor): trapped between its obvious longing for 70s ABBA and early 00s Robyn-esque pop structure, Fade Away manages to maneuver both decades with delicious skill. The immediacy of Sundfor’s voice means this could be mid-week loneliness or Sunday church revivalism---it’s that fantastic.
3. Wesley’s Theory (Kendrick Lamar): references so many struggles while beating us relentlessly with an originality that reduces everything in his path useless. From sampling Jamaica’s own Boris Gardiner to slyly taking on Wesley Snipes’ public tax evasion case as a means of cautioning over-spending, it spins but never loses focus or its firmness.
Kendrick Lamar - Wesley's Theory (Feat... by bestofmusic1
4. King Kunta (Kendrick Lamar): the free-loading mentality gets a toxic shakedown on King Kunta, a track that slyly posits sexual politics with phallic power (‘bitch where you when I was walkin’?/ life ain’t nothing but a fat vagina…’)
5. Back To The Future (Part I) (D’angelo): after removing his presence from us for nearly fifteen years, D’angelo realized that a return track had to be on his album. And we all know what the return track contains: first, it confirms the artist is back, (‘no matter if you lose/ you got to come back again/ pay some dues…’). Secondly, it must demand respectful distance, (‘if you’re wondering about the shape I’m in/ I hope it ain’t my abdomen/ that you’re referring to…’). Thirdly, it has to fucking rock. D’angelo ticks off all the boxes in style, the ending dripping with so much spectral funk that it’s as if he never abandoned his crown.
6.Lazarus (VV Brown): when she steps into the club, VV Brown manages to construct shards of noise that’s in sync to the absolute best of what house/hop can offer and this is her best yet.
7.That Battle Is Over (Jenny Hval): not many self-empowering records are done aimed for women past child-bearing age. With that in mind, or, rather looming on her horizon, Hval prattles on the upside of those years. The titular battle of course is motherhood, wifedom, corporate-climber, any persona a woman has to acquire to please or to accommodate everyone else. Hval is previewing but cheating also and there’s rising guilt.
8. Billie Jean (Dawn Richard): a hustler’s spin on the Michael Jackson classic? Not quite but not totally off the mark either.
9. Sapokanikan (Joanna Newsom): she’s off telling stories again, Joanna Newsom is known to spin tales more grand than any contemporary artist and Sapokanikan is no difference. The title, as you might know, is the former name for Greenwich Village, and by the time she’s though, she’s thrown in figures painted by Picasso, poetry by Shelly as well as a tender scene of impending death and how gracefully it’s handled. As always, we’re left spellbound.
10. Alright (Kendrick Lamar): the opening lines of the brilliant Alright echoes Sofia’s (Oprah Winfrey) lament in The Colour Purple (‘alls my life I has to fight, nigga…’) over a jazzy web of resentment and misogyny ( ‘what you want/ a house or a car/ 40 acres and a mule/ a piano, a guitar/ anything, my name is Lucy, I’m your dog…’). Indeed, the entire second verse rapped by Lamar is the closest thing any rapper has ever come to beat poetry on record: it’s that on point with its rage and hideousness.
11. WTF (Missy Elliott feat. Pharrel): with Timbaland apparently too busy to produce, Elliott’s highly anticipated return was produced by Pharrell but who misses Tim when the result is this exhilarating?
12. Worth It (Danny Brown): no matter how hard he tries to shed his joker image, Danny Brown cant, at least not yet but Worth It makes the case that there’s goodness in the role. Make no bones about, few can rival Brown’s bravado and even fewer could topple this effort. Brown has this effortless way of tossing off these types of gems but their experimental feel is greatly undervalued. We’ll look back at this phase in his career one day and appreciate—and nod our heads—all this goodness.
13. Sugah Daddy (D’angelo): the way D’angelo hypnotizes with his grooves, you’d be excused for not realizing how fuck-boyish this track is. Embedded within its coda are lines like, “I hit it so hard I made the pussy fart” and, right after, “she said it’s talkin’ to ya daddy”. Let those lines sink in next time you’re bobbing your head to it.
14. Prisoner 1 & 2 (Lupe Fiasco feat. Ayesha Jacko): containing one of the year’s best lines (‘hate is habitually accelerating terror…’), Lupe constructs a modern tale of life in prison. After spitting out darts for just over four minutes, we hear a gate close and then the track spins upon its head into some unique territory, with Lupe the ringmaster, breathlessly holding it all together.
15. Blur My Hands (Lupe Fiasco feat. Guy Sebastian): seen as a flip-off to Atlantic, Lupe holds nothing back but even he’s upstaged by Sebastian’s soaring vocal work on the chorus. But if Blur My Hands is indeed a veiled diss track, it’s also Lupe’s clearest show of appreciation to his fans who’ve stuck by him throughout the turbulence.
16. Flesh Without Blood (Grimes): Boucher terms the music on Art Angels as “bro art” and the more I think about it, the more I think she’s fucking with us. In fact, I think she must be slightly amused at the great reception the album’s been getting because, as becomes obvious if you listen her pack catalogue, she’s been spinning these gorgeous songs for four years now.
17. Everytime Boots (Julia Holter): fans of Holter must be brimming with pride that they stuck with her, now that she’s arrived to pop and fashioned something s breath-taking and catchy that even Joanna Newsom must be a little envious. The last verse is gloriously held in refrain before cutting off the rush of blood to our heads.
18. Voodoo Doll (John Grant): pop music is littered with great pep talk tracks but I reckon no one’s ever made one this funky before. Voodoo Doll is the stuff Prince would be adding to albums thirty years ago or even Beck too, you know. If he still had a sense of fun and daring. It’s been a tough time for Grant but he knows it makes no sense moping about it s he’s gone to his mirror and slapped both jaws and put this on blast.
19. Ratchet Commandments (Tink): that Timbaland sonic reign just won’t let up and here he tosses a gem to Tink, who’s just 19, and she outlines the new rules of what’s not acceptable in her generation’s dating life. She takes no prisoners or sides here, both men and women get lined up against the wall, whether its hoes, (‘if you know your pussy loose/ you a ho/ so do better…’) or gen X-ers desperate for social media significance, (‘every night doing the most up on Instagram/ maybe that’s the reason why bitches they can’t keep a man…’).
20. Damn That Valley (U.S. Girls): one of the unforgettable scenes in Spielberg’s brilliant ‘Saving Private Ryan’ was that shot of the army car driving up to the farm. The mother sees it from the kitchen, turns the front door slowly and as the general steps out, collapses. She knows the news will be horrible but wasn’t prepared for the moment. It’s the same shocking reaction Meghan Remy has on the track, camouflaging the pain with a sumptuous reggae beat and Grace Jones affectations.
Saturday, December 12, 2015
the penultimate edition...
11. Bjork Vulnicura: A lot has been made about the production value of Arca and The Haxan Cloak on the album but any Bjork album really only focuses on one thing: that sultry voice. A few tentative moments aside, when she lets it caress songs like Lion Song and Family, the familiar blissful awe of Bjork’s stature as the greatest female pop musician since the mid-1990s is strongly reinforced.
12. Jazmine Sullivan Reality Show: on the verge of quitting the music industry, Sullivan reconsidered and here it fueled her best work yet. Every track bristles with so much passion and now she’s added grit to them, in line with those divas she’s idealized for so long. Sullivan is adding her own individual flavor however.
13. Lupe Fiasco Tetsuo & Youth: a record he claims is partially inspired by his youth in Chicago, revealing how much pop suffuses his hip/hop consciousness. It’s always challenging when merging both genres but Tetsuo & Youth succeeds because it leaves conflict to resolve itself lyrically and up to whatever perspective you grasp from whatever tale Lupe is spinning.
14. Panda Bear Panda Bear Meets The Grim Reaper: no one’s made my year-end list more than Noah Lennox and it’s because dude knows how to made great music. While Panda Bear Meets The Grim Reaper doesn’t climb as high as previous efforts, it’s the sweet craft and production that remains firmly intact. His solo efforts have always reinforced those tenets.
15. Gem Jones Wurm Man Dubiosity: if the band was reveling in Prince-mania on their debut last year then now they’ve ditched him for psychedelic 1960s Jamaican ska. And it’s quite a revelation: the wobbly production and acid-trip vocals all coalesce to form one fully approved transition with the only regret being that they didn’t include more songs.
16. Tyler, the Creator Cherry Bomb: citing Stevie Wonder as the influence for your album is sure to garner attention but when the second track (Blowmyload) starts to revel in eating pussy topped off with accompanying sounds, that’ll raise even more eyebrows. Tyler is known to skirt controversy but here he didn’t need it: the mash up of ideas work fiercely and the lyrical flow is his strongest work yet.
17. Of Montreal Aureate Gloom: after the failure of their last album, it’s nice to see Kevin Barnes getting back to what attracted me to them way back in 2007: the wacky, queerness of the lyrics and production. There’s sadness here too (‘sometimes you get the punishment somebody else deserves’)—the album partially being inspired by his separation from his wife but the scattershot nature of Aureate Gloom enhances the listening experience rather than sink it.
18. Nadine Shah Fast Food: with Adele releasing her new album at the end of the year, most people will now forget the other British women who released stuff during the year. Such a pity because Shah’s Fast Food is by far superior to 25. Here is an album comfortably straddling the pop/rock divide on tracks like The Gin One and Fool. Fast Food as a title is misleading—in fact, one can argue that what Shah has offered here is the polar opposite: great, slow-paced pop/rock that builds to several climaxes that leaves one breathless.
19. Bop English Constant Bop: James Petralli spends more time in the band White Denim but whereas he is just a piece in that group’s aura, he shines brightly here solo, mark you, with the band providing help at turns. These eclectic songs move along at a snappy pace but still have tenderness, like the standout Long Distance Runner.
20. Erykah Badu But You Caint Use My Phone: only Erykah Badu would have the temerity to dare do an entire mixtape based on one of her own songs (Tyrone) and Drake’s inexplicably popular Hotline Bling. The moments are crazy fun: the funk abstraction of Dial Afreaq to the unstated tenderness of Hello, featuring her ex Andre 3000. Badu continues to find amazing ways to reinvent herself without hiccup in her two decade old career.