Tune-Yards – aka New England vocalist Merrill Garbus and partner in bass-playing crime Nate Brenner – have allowed some major pop producers, namely John Hill and Malay, access to their already established and almost aggressively individual sound. Concerns of a disaster in the making may ring out; their first album unbelievably lo-fi and the second self- produced – how would makers of albeit alternative but identifiable r’n’b pop affect the truly eccentric and self-sufficient band’s identity? Well, not as you much as you may imagine or possibly fear. There are changes of course as one would expect and also hope from any artist that has been producing music in excess of five years, but these are subtle and even, on occasion, welcome amendments made to the Tune-Yards manifesto.
2011’s “Whokill” was an astonishing force of nature; it blew everyone and everything that stood in its path away but left Merrill Garbus drained and creatively arid. “Nikki Nack”’s opening lyrics tell of Garbus’ frustrations and the encouragement given to her by a stranger based only on her casual, overheard, singing:
‘You tried to tell me that I had a right to sing
Just like a bird has to fly
And I really wanted to believe him because he seemed
Like a really nice guy
But I trip on the truth when I walk that wire
When you wear a mask, always sound like a liar
I tried to tell him all the reasons that I had never to sing again
And he replied ‘You’d better find a new way’
Garbus’ wide eyed, exclaiming vocals – certainly soulful and often astoundingly powerful – sound pretty much the same on “Find a New Way” as they always did. The change then comes mainly from the songs themselves and Tune-Yards development as writers. Garbus has spoken about her love of sticky, ear worm- songs that attack the brain, embedded forever. One of the objectives she had for this album was to figure out how to write such hooks and incorporate them without compromise of creativity and individuality. Maybe this was the reason for recruiting the producers of, amongst others, Pink, Shakira, Alicia Keys and Christina Aguilera; John Hill and Malay are music specialists who understand how to navigate an artist towards the potential of a great melody. Along with Brenner, the band has again self-written the entire record and this objective of creating catchiness has, on the whole, been met, with many satisfying examples.
The first half on “Nikki Nack” is more convoluted stylistically than the second and also has a lower hit rate. “Water Fountain”, the album’s first single, squashes all of Tune-Yards characteristics and tics into one song. It’s a very tight squeeze; playground skipping rhymes, yelps and ‘yee- ha’s!’, clanging and clattering percussion, exhibitionist vocals and lyrics about a crumbling and under-funded neighbourhoods and a video that references Peewee Herman’s “Play House”. Ostentatious, wacky and be-jewelled, it’s not subtle and, after the initial and undeniable rush has worn off, it’s not enduring either. “Look Around” and “Time of Dark”, both slower tracks, feel longer than their playing time and “Real Thing”, which starts off brilliantly with staccato thrown verses circa “Writing on the Wall” era Destiny’s Child, ends in a tangle of voices and sonic muddle.
“Hey Life” chronicles an existence led too fast accompanied by anxiety and a pressure to cram as much as possible into every waking second; its drumming, synth prods and speed singing all add to the heightened feeling of panic with Merrill central to the ensuing chaos. It’s a minor track in some ways but one that is nonetheless thrilling and manages to avoid any cartoonish inclinations on a track where this could have been an easy temptation.
The strongest section of the album begins with “Stop that Man” which introduces a trio of songs where evidence of growth in song-writing and an ability to apply a more contained but ultimately more rewarding approach is clearly apparent. One of the continued aims of Tune-Yards has been to comment on social and left-leaning political issues with lyrics that are set against predominantly upbeat and dense dance rhythms and beats that imply a celebratory mood. Casual racism, gentrification and sexual harassment are all central themes here and “Stop that Man” questions racial assumptions based on media statistics and news reports and also personal experiences. The song succeeds mainly though by being part angular, glitchy electro clash experiment (it turns inexplicably and temporarily into Blue Monday/ Bobby O for forty-five seconds mid-song) and part glorious, singalong pop song. So if Garbus’ intention was to create a song serious in intention that you’ll also sing and dance along to, she has also again succeeded.
“Left Behind” and the downbeat but not depressing, smoothly r’n’b “Wait for a Minute”, probably the album’s best tune and performance, complete the trio and these moments are some of the finest in Tune-Yards discography to date. There is nothing that rivals the unruly, audacious and already ground -breaking “Gangsta”’ for example, here; the Tune-Yards of “Nikki Nack” are indeed more mannered but also more intricate with one beady eye placed on fine detail and songs that reveal themselves more slowly and reward generously over time. Claims of cultural appropriation, for they have been made, are surely overblown and only on the multi harmonies of the lullaby-like “Rocking Chair”, short and little too on the nose, does the intention grate. Other influences can also be heard, Laurie Anderson, Cyndi Lauper, Missy Elliott and Timbaland, Santigold, Big Boi, MIA and Neneh Cherry in particular all register at certain points but never once could you mistake Tune –Yards for anyone else. “Nikki Nack” may not shout its intentions as loudly as before but its power is found elsewhere, you’ll find yourself madly singing its merits – probably unaware and almost certainly with glee.
One half of eccentric hip-hop due OutKast, this is Big Boi’s second solo album (Andre 3000 has yet to release his debut) following the acclaimed, sturdy and bombastic ‘Sir Ludicrous Left Foot’ from 2 years ago. “Vicious Lies and Dangerous Rumours” main selling point is that, unlike his debut, Big Boi has, this time round, chosen high profile but still relatively underground indie stars to work with and less dependence on his contemporaries within the hip-hop or rap genre. This is not necessarily a surprise as his dream collaborator is Kate Bush, something he has spoken about many times and his adoration and knowledge of Bush’s work is that of a committed fan boy.
“Vicious Lies and Dangerous Rumours” is in fact a very broad record, it has massive pop choruses (see in particular the joyous New Edition-indebted, and featuring Kelly Rowland vocal, “Mama Told Me”) and is commercial in a way that the two most predominant guests here, terminally hip Little Dragon and Portishead-lite, US trip-hoppers Phantogram, within the confines of their own work are not. It continues to confirm that Big Boi’s tastes are wide and his love of music generally is far reaching and passionate but there is a compromise sonically here; instead of a union of creative talent on some of these overly crowded tracks there seems to be a disconnect.
Phantogram and Little Dragon generously get 3 songs each and their tracks also featured rappers such as Killer Mike and Lana Del Rey favourite and rap’s next Superstar, ASAP Rocky. On the plus side “Objectum Sexuality” establishes an insistent and funky groove, a silly rap (‘we’re playing doctor but with no stethoscope, just heels and knockers’) and Phantogram delivering one of the strongest and most charismatic choruses here and the short, punching “Higher Res” featuring Little Dragon (only available on the Deluxe version kids!) is one of the few excitingly and genuinely experimental tracks here, vocals and beats continually slipping in and out of view, and hints at what could have been. “CPU” (Phantogram again) is a mess and in respect to the new, mainstream electronic ‘genre’, which this incorporates (EDM), already sounds dated and the overloaded, albeit satisfyingly thick and nasty sounding. “Thom Pettie” leaves Little Dragon sounding completely uninvolved and un-catered for.
“Shoes for Running” features Wavves (I’ve never heard of them but they sound like Green Day to these ears which, in itself, is problematic) and is the musical equivalent of a scrappy kids cartoon and not just because it features children singing on the final chorus; it isn’t good by any stretch of the imagination. Some of the best stuff here features Big Boi and his male contemporaries only. “In the A” is superb, brassy and scorching and “Raspberries” is a woozy, filthy and funny delight. Big Boi’s own performance throughout is top notch and the only consistent element here, he is charismatic and smart and can dominate his own material with no the need for the many helping hands he insists on this time around.
This album reminds me of one those albums by DJ’s or dance acts that were particularly prominent in the mid-nineties that had many high profile ‘featuring’ tracks but failed to deliver any genuine and successful merging of the talents involved. There are touches of EDM here and there (but nothing too heavy-handed), trip-hop, Prince-influenced funk (touching ballad “Descending” sounds like a “Purple Rain” cast off) and of course hip-hop and R’n’B; it’s a surprisingly easy listen and at times a thoroughly entertaining one but it is rarely essential or forward looking in the way that on paper and based on past evidence suggests it might have been. Imagining she actually does get to hear this, I wouldn’t get my hopes too high for that Kate Bush collaboration happening any time soon.
