An Acute Case: 4 October 2024

Whirlwinds, wonder boys, all-rounders, and all-timers

Armand Hammer: We Buy Diabetic Test Strips
It took till this duo’s involvement in the ØKSE experiment (below) for me to get what all this creeping atmosphere and broken rhythm is about. Unsurprisingly, it’s the jazz-rap reliable commentators told me it was a year ago even though I couldn’t hear it. That doesn’t mean sax honks so much as a general organising logic; though it divides into 15 songs, each one contains countless discrete parts, with woods and ELUCID hiding round every corner. The unmusicality can be jarring, especially as these two are amongst rap’s least euphonic MCs. But it’s a natural fit for their hoarse, stony-faced delivery. As a simple soul, I gravitate to the straightforwardly beaty middle section that runs from “I Keep A Mirror In My Pocket” to “The Gods Must Be Crazy”. Their erudite word slinging doesn’t explain itself, but it’s full of dry wit and veiled wisdom, and if you really want a reason for their abstractions, you could do worse than “there’s no comfort in facts sometimes.” B PLUS

Louis Armstrong: Live In London (Live at the BBC)
Perfect host, impeccable band, timeless material; the only thing slightly lacking is the audience. But as this 1968 concert followed an improbable string of shows in a working men’s club in Yorkshire, Armstrong is well-practised in coaxing taciturn Brits to participate. After easing them in with the first two numbers, he invites them to sing along to “You’ll Never Walk Alone”, which is stirring without approaching Anfield on a European night. The “my hide’s already tanned” gag on “Rockin’ Chair” is played coyly, which is sensible given it’s a sure laugh for a crowd he manages to whip into clap-a-longs on both “Hello Dolly” and “When The Saints Go Marching In”. “What A Wonderful World” gets an airing fresh from knocking The Beatles off number one, as does “Bare Necessities” less than a year after The Jungle Book hit UK screens. As someone who sang that in assemblies through junior school without complaint, this exercise in giving the people what they want really pushes my buttons. All I ask is that you round off your Louis on the Beeb experience by checking out his Desert Island Discs appearance a month later, in which he chooses five of his own songs and his autobiography. Following a brief rejuvenation, he died three years after this. He cherished this performance to the end. Easy to see why. A

Homeboy Sandman / M Slago: And We Are Here
Cranky cuss thaws out under the influence of the kind of brainy beats that first inspired him to become one of alt-raps most thoughtful MCs. ** (“Being Black is So Nuts” “Maintenance Man”)

Miranda Lambert: Postcards From Texas
No matter what her publicist says, the dual firsts of this album being recorded in Lambert’s home state and on her new label don’t make a dent as far as I can tell. She remains country’s number one all-rounder, so even her lesser albums have the same qualities as her best. Variety and versatility are among her many gifts—she doesn’t just do funny songs (“Armadillo”/“Alimony”), sincere songs (“Looking Back On Luchenbach”/“I Hate Love Songs”), and feisty songs (“Wranglers”/“Bitch On The Sauce (Just Drunk)”), she has range within each subset. Less noted is her subtlety—probably because she’s not what you’d call confessional. But try thinking of another country artist who’d not only sing the phrase “dammit Randy, did you ever hear me at all?” that way but build the whole song out from its weary cadence. 18 co-writers (another of her gifts: picking and choosing) maintain her no duds policy, though it’s notable that the sole cover (David Allan Coe’s “On The Run”) is one of the few songs that could threaten her best work. As she says: “lightnin’ in a bottle ain’t what it used to be.” A MINUS

MJ Lenderman: Manning Fireworks
If this wonder boy is a tad overhyped (including by, er, me), it might be because he’s so likeable—unpretentious, quietly observant, a little weird. But rust never sleeps and modesty doesn't shine, so this is still strictly before the goldrush. If he lacks a point (snapshot lyrics about bees nesting in John Travolta’s bald head and McDonalds flags at half-mast are arresting even if they lead nowhere), he does have a purpose: his guitar—from which he compels twangy, winsome tunes with seemingly little effort or forethought. That seems unfocused at first, but because he’s the maestro we know from his Wednesday mothership, a fine band of mostly himself give those tunes just enough momentum. And while he’s only got one way of singing, it’s surprisingly persuasive. Definitely a special musician; almost a special artist. A MINUS

ØKSE: ØKSE
All the avant-jazz must-haves (distressing dissonance, changeable time sigs, cattywampus ensemble bits) from a Den-Swe-Hai-US quartet, plus some hip-hop goodies; namely, one sampler and four Brooklyn MCs. Come for billy Woods’s hyper-detailed verse about airport searches, stay for moody intellectualism and fitful melody. * (“Three Headed Axe” “Amager”)

Lainey Wilson: Whirlwind
Half these songs are fed on rocket fuel, as they better be; Wilson can’t pun like Carly Pearce, emote like Meghan Moroney, or sentiment like Ashley McBryde, so gusto is kind of her whole deal. When the subject matter’s light, she really can be terrific. She proves she can “Keep Up With Jones” (George, presumably) so long as fast guitars equal fast living, emphatically makes the point that “Country’s Cool Again”, goofs up Fleetwood Mac while “Counting Chickens”, and scores the cheating song every country gal dreams of on the almost-rapped “Ring Finger”. The title track and “Hang Tight Honey” hang tight. But the Miranda Lambert hook-up that’s the prettiest thing here almost undoes her—subtle and sincere just isn’t her thing. A cracker band and the bankable appeal of an accent thiccer than her butt sustain interest, and even with heartbreak metaphors about trucks with no gas and cowboy songs about guys with no manners, there are no flops. Not till “Whiskey Colored Crayon”. That’s avoid-at-all-costs. Considerately, it’s at the very end. B PLUS

The Zawose Queens: Maisha
Hard to tell what difference is made by Brit boys Oli Barton-Wood and Tom Excell, but though I’m a little cross they didn’t do more with their time in Tanzania, there’s plenty of interest in a lifetime of sororal harmonies and the peculiar combo of chizeze (fiddle) and illimba (thumb piano). * (“Maisha” “Mapendo”)