From the Republic of Youth

This album is gorgeous.  I’ve had a few “new” album encounters with things that stopped my otherwise plodding autumn.  Contemporary releases to bring youth and belief within reach once again.  Early in the fall I had some Kendrick Lamar and Quasimodo on the mix, considering Hip Hop anew, considering the unstoppable reinvention of African American artistry. 

A friend steered me to Mbongwana Star from the Congo, which caught me immediately, having me play the flanged guitar and odd Kongotronic loops, catchy hooks in an indecipherable language as second and a third time.  A copy of the Malian singer Fataou’s debut release came here from home in the form of a CD with album art and photos.  Tactile pictures, the odd connection with a product, that is different from seeing a photo on line or seeing a song as software.   Once again, I played it immediately again, the moment it was done.   And then began playing it for others.

A life could be prioritized around new music for a little while at least.  But it isn’t now.  Finding new music that works doesn’t just happen.  If it isn’t part of what you talk about with people, if it isn’t what you’re looking for when your shopping or on line, it isn’t likely to fill your world.  But you know it’s out there.  And it fills out the soul so powerfully when it hits, like rain water on identity.

“This album” is this release by “Ego Death” by The Internet.  This came to me through a friend, but via his teenage son, which feels appropriately like a gift from the republic of youth.  The mix, firstly, is undeniably refined.  The grooves calmly demand my attention, and we’ve a living group of musicians, calming me down with trustworthy hands.  Syd tha Kyd is an iconoclast of lush wiser-than-thou vocals, cool, assumed gynocentricity, nerdy in her Mohawk, and clearly not giving a fuck.  I’m listening to it over and over and over and sooner or later I wont.  But for now I have music to share and it feels like spring crocuses pushing through my heart’s dirt.