An Acute Case: 1 December 2023

Studying success to find ways to fail

Danny Brown: Quaranta
After the disavowal of melodic niceties that was SCARING THESE HOES, this change of direction is almost as jarring as Brown's most antic verses. Given reports of tardiness from artist and label, that doesn’t appear to have been planned. But it happened anyway, and further establishes Brown’s status as a conceptualiser with few equals. Here, he tunnels into a sound that's unmistakably dark though rarely claustrophobic. Too much ventilation in the beats and nourishment in the textures for that. Matching the sonics with the baldest rapping of his career, his interior world has never been this accessible, from depression to heartbreak, gentrification, and hardscrabble childhood. He remains capable of mutilating his vocal cords on the fast ones and serving up such idiosyncratic imagery as “out of place like carpet in the kitchen” whenever he wants, but mostly he relies on the kind of phrases that acquire life-changing resonance in recovery programmes. Which, if you didn't know, is exactly where he ended up. Here’s the bummed-out portrait of what came first. A MINUS

Buck 65: Punk Rock B-Boy
The “tactics of an autodidactic polymath” are largely unchanged since Richard Terfry staged his surprise comeback with last year’s King of Drums then consolidated it with this May’s Super Dope. Rhymewise, he’s still up to “riding in an orange Bugatti with Lauren Shehadi doing foreign karate” and rattling off “componentry”, “potpourri”, “poetry”. Music-wise, the developments are marginal. Between the Woody Guthrie-sampling ode to crate digging, one-stringed-Ethiopian-violin-sampling ode to his sweet tooth, absurd twitter chatter of his first ever(?!) skit, and dream-state history of hip-hop’s undersung pioneers, the novelty value has a regenerative effect on his by now familiar moves. What’s more, there’s almost a through line, with various DJs popping up to give instructions on how to scratch or find drum breaks just by looking at the grooves on a record. While the name-checks are decidedly old school (Phase 2, Lady Blue, Kool Herc, amongst other “earth angels changing the world with two turntables”) the takeaway is loud and clear: “hip hop will never die / no words truer than.” A MINUS

Margo Cilker: Valley Of Heart’s Delight
While only a few of these prettily arranged pastorals is forceful enough to make you drop what you’re doing, each modest effort is warm, buoyant, and ameliorating. Which is most of the point for a weary 30-year-old who chews her words like they belong to her but follows her tunes like they’ve got a mind of their own. Half lead her back to the home where she doesn’t feel like she belongs, the other half to distant parts of the American heartland that remind her of the home where she doesn’t feel like she belongs. That home being Santa Clara Valley—long since lost to our tax-shy tech overlords. If that’s one reason for her wandering spirit, it’s likely that the thankless labour of aspiring musicianhood is another. Now on her second album and opening for Drive-By Truckers, she’s got pause to reflect on lessons learnt from her wandering years. “I’ve got hills to climb in my own sweet time” is hard-won wisdom. As is “I’ve got time now / I’ve got know-how / I’ve got only to write the end.” You could say the same for “it takes two to tie up a line only sometimes” or, even more severely, “if it all ties together are we better alone?” But judging by her delivery, those are paths she’d rather avoid. A MINUS

corook: serious person (part two)
Nashville-based Corinne Savage combines sock puppet novelty with intense emotional candour so deftly that the gap between them is as indistinct as the gender binary they puzzle out every day. But because they’re a song crafter of painstaking exactness, their meaning is never unclear. Though none of these 5 songs matches June’s slightly less short and slightly more serious serious person (part one) for featherweight melodies or heavyweight hooks, each one establishes sound, story, and intent. Pick the bones out of “I’m not me perfectly but I’m perfectly me” if you want, but on a song titled “Alien” it makes perfect sense/sense perfectly. Taking the lead from surprise hit “if I were a fish”, the mood here is lighter, leading to such interesting developments as a goof rap on “party party party!”, some loud singing/quiet music intros that recall Brian Sella, and a “wee-oo-wee-oo” hook that recalls Bobby Valentino impersonating a police siren. That’s my idea of artistic growth. A MINUS

Dan Ex Machina: Ex’s Sexts
An abuse album that doubles as a political album, and not by accident. “Just cause it's illegal / don’t mean I broke the law" Dan Weiss bitterly lisps on “The Second Half of America”, a minute later clarifying his target with “that orange bastard / he may have the last word / but he tweeted his password.” “Oldest Prick in the Book” addresses the same “demagogue who thinks he’s a demigod” before “Then-Wife” widens the lens on abuse of power to include men who buy women’s silence, and the title track details the first time Weiss failed to get consent. Depending on the flexibility of your interpretation, “Giant Rat” may be his most successful attempt to combine his themes. Ska horns, jangle tunes, and a lie-ability pun Carly Pearce recorded first aside, the musical mode is more straightforward than last year’s All Is Ours, Nothing Is Theirs. The most ambitious moves are a hardcore interlude split into four parts averaging 42s and the 10-minute cringe finale. Both are fine in their equally unpleasant ways. But it’s the songs where Weiss balances his gifts for pop form and teenage riot riffs that make him an artist worthy of your time. Also, wafer-thin transition times. B PLUS

Open Mike Eagle: another triumph of ghetto engineering
Not just his musicality that's taking the hit anymore—half of these are barely songs. But he's still among the best jokers "otherground" has to offer. And when he's not, Video Dave assists. ** (“BET's rap city” “WFLD 32”)

Romy: Mid Air
Just cause I’m too self-conscious to have a healing experience on the dance floor, doesn’t mean some all too breathy singers can’t. *** (“Did I” “Enjoy Your Life”)

thanks for coming: What is My Capacity to Love?
After performing more simple addition on Everybody’s Crushed than kids TV, Rachel Brown discovers breaking up and articulates their vulnerability with impressive insight. That the offbeat guitar tunings and laptop loops leave any aftertaste at all is impressive, I suppose. ** (“Loop” “Depends”)