Top Albums 2022 Part IV 20 – 11

20. Pusha T – It's Almost Dry

We might never again receive this kind of production masterpiece. With Kanye West moving further and further away from the charity of his peers with his comments and odd behaviours and his peers failing to help him in any meaningful way, another meeting of Pharrell Williams, West and Pusha T is unlikely. As Williams did at the start of Pusha T’s commercial success with Clipse, West enhanced and reinvigorated Pusha’s career with his production. The rapper never lacked in lyrical prowess, colorfully painting his gangster saga full of cocaine dealing and material excess, but without the production chops of both Williams and West, his best verses would have never hit the same. Splitting the production duties in half and producing “Rock N Roll” together, West and Williams elevate every boast, every grim detail and yearning of Pusha. Running with the motif of painting and chemical processing of cocaine, a great painting starts with the background, priming the surface and helping fixate the experience for eternity to come. In cocaine, the purity cannot be thought of without the correct means of synthesis. Here, West delivers the mournful sample shifting that built his sound to enable Pusha for spinning the success story with correct amounts of sourness and regret. Pharrell doubles down with his signature electric bass on tracks like “Brambelton” or “Let the Smokers Shine the Coupes”, consolidating the boastful rapper with the gangster and the conscious with the groovy. Collaborative track “Rock N Roll” couples the samples of West with the impeccable percussive knack of Williams for a reflective statement by Pusha, focused more on the cost than the gain of a life in drugs. Special attention must be given to how both producers utilize the organ in “Open Air” and “I Pray For You”. As if in competition to each other, “Open Air” is Pharrell doing a perfect old-Kanye impression, choir samples and solemn attitude included. Winning out, West uses his newfound hang for gospel to go for the epic scale of “I Pray For You”. The appearance of No Malice is the cherry on top, the perfect encapsulation of heaven and hell in the thematic of religion as a path not toward heaven, but from hell.

 

19. Young Jeezy & DJ Drama – SNOFALL

With streaming becoming the number one way to access music, especially in Hip Hop circles, the mixtape as a genre and distribution choice transformed into a strange, sometimes monstrous package of disparate bulks of songs or has ceased to exist altogether. Jeezy and DJ Drama both pioneered the art form in the early 2000s and made their name through albums worth of braggadocios verses and winding beat choices. SNOFALL saw their return to collaborating, a full-length with the same hunger and energy as a first outing, but with the seniority of knowing success and a formula that works. Here it is the high rising production of DJ Drama, equally gangster as glitz, a simple disregard for downtempo as sad songs. Jeezy sounds as great as ever, once again confirming why riding while listening to a Jeezy album was an epitome of coolness and the closest to gangster-swag any kid from the suburb ever approached. As a study in what trap music it, SNOFALL is far removed from the downtrodden and drugged out variants of the later 2010s, this is a callback to the latter days of when bling-raps production value was still present in the come-up of younger artists of grimmer life worlds. Listen to “Street Cred” as an elevation of what Jeezy stands for now, as his gangster days are long gone, in the same immediacy as someone still in the trade and turn towards “I Ain’t Gone Hold Ya” in all its understated funk as the duo are in full command of their craft. Rarely do I feel the need to critique the tripped-out productions of contemporary trap artists, but listening to Drama and Yeezy recalls the high energy raps that are few and far between today.

 

18. Stefano Pilia – Spiralis Aurea

Falling somewhere between the new school of composers using the organ as an instrument in new and exciting ways and a focus still aligned with classical compositions, Spiralis Aurea magnifies elements of medieval compositions. Pilia, not unlike what one would aspect from Johannsson at times, understands the command of droning organs counteracted by wallowing cellos or tiny melodies. Pieces like “Ouroboros” however, are showcases of a contemporary understanding of sacred music and the heft of lending your body to the organ’s might. The greatest moments in the form of “Hannah” and “CODEXIII”, come with the introduction of the electric guitar into the fold. Nothing less of a quartet of guitars, Pilia and his collaborators breach the space between classical music in the post-rock mindset, close to what Mono have been doing for years, but in pairing this with the grander outlook of Spiralis Aurea, the melancholic plucks appear in an isolated beauty – as if the whole concert stopped, the stage cleared, only for this short piece. Using the golden ratio and sacred geometry as conceptual center for this album, Pilia has created a unique piece of contemporary classic, a towering listen for fans of experimental and classical music alike. Maybe a riff on the whole parallelism of moments of contemplation hinging on the awareness of sadness and grandeur alike – the motion of the world and life as recurring themes and expanding fractals.

 

17. Cheba Wahida – Jrouli

Reading the history of Rai music alone is worth your time. Born as a music of outcast, speaking of social ills in the Algeria of the 1920s, the music involved the breaking of tabus and boundaries of gender restrictions as well as a truly international array of influences due to its birthplace, the port city Oran having a vast variety of migration. Listening to the beats on Jrouli recalls arrangements by Principe or DJ Python and arches into what other African genres of music do with their staccato flows and high-speed drum sections. Still, the way Wahida uses her auto-tuned voice to stay on top of the busy arrangements binds everything to sound chill and relaxed. Her shouts, calls and drawn own syllables sometimes outgrow the mix, with her voice creating a polyrhythm of its own. Label Nazhazphone put special attention towards the survival of Rai and its existence in its contemporary electronic form through phones and distribution via personal networks. This works to stress the feeling of Jrouli playing loud from blown out speakers, somewhere on the street, with people having a blast and the event only lasting for a night. This album captures some of this immediacy and leaves you wanting for more as the usual availability of our music senses does not fare well with one and done experiences.

 

16. Eros – A Southern Code

A fitting continuation of industrials roots through the work of Einstuerzende Neubauten, producer Boris Wilsdorf, Regis and My Disco’s Liam Andrews explore the hypnotic thrills of the genre as Eros. Industrial music was always strangely connected to world music and the usage of “foreign” instruments and samples to enhance a music of alienating quality. On A Southern Code, this is manifested not only in middle-eastern horn sections, but in manual drumming and gamelan-esque percussions. A connection to the body and its abstraction through technology is brought about by Regis’ no wave vocals of disregard. At times sections feature the slightest hints of rings, whistles, and tinges of modulation, as if the background of machinery is grinding down the humans operating it, fatigue and the impossibility to adhere to the machine completely. While the album does appear as a pure studio piece through this, the shattering bass and illustrious percussive sections provide enough immediacy to experience the sound as close to your skin as possible.

 

15. PheliMuncasi – Ama Gogela

In a different world, one where the pandemic didn’t make everybody long for a strange revival of disco and funk styles by artists like Jessie Ware, Dua Lipa, The Weeknd and Beyonce (and even for whatever Drake did with Honestly, Nevermind!) the track “I Don’t Feel My Legs” would have broken records and served as the summer banger to be remembered in 2022. Imagine a world in which the gqom style of dark and drenched bass sounds, filled by menacing synth drones and bustling percussions would be the go-to dancefloor sound. Every space turned towards the immediacy of gravity, a different kind of euphoria and hedonism firmly grounded in a political perspective. Ama Gogela follows in the superb collection that served as Phelimuncasi’s debut album on Nyege Nyege. Here a different focus takes hold of the driving beats, with the three MCs trading verses with a few guest-vocalist, going from mellower call and response to heated exchanges that sound like edging each other on. While I cannot unpack the lyrics, the start of the project as a musical outlet for the groups political activism coupled with the album titled after a bee and its undeniable sting, Ame Gogela hits all the stops of what electronic music should achieve. Especially in the West where the appeal of a song is measured more in streams and flashy usability as snippets in social media. In all talks about what an Afrofuturism entails or how to perceive Africa’s cultural production in western countries, Phelimuncasi prove their globalism and their disregard for easy listening in one fell swoop.

 

14. OG Keemo – Mann Beisst Hund

There are still very little German hip-hop acts to really write the world about. Many are great as a very visible and needed expression of German youth culture and how the genre as such is morphed in the German language and consumer culture. Yet again, ideas of whiteness in mainstream culture remain largely unaddressed due to a weighty emphasis on what German’s would call “student rap”. Those making gangster raps as such have moved to trap in a very dance-friendly way. OG Keemo stands as the one MC in the eye of the public that has the ability to transcend this definition and bring a much-needed black perspective to the scene. Narratives of poverty might be more common in gangster rap, but rarely do they deal with issues of race and poverty in their intersectionality. Even if OG Keemo distances himself from any comparisons to a German Kendrick Lamar, Mann Beisst Hund loosely follows the rapper’s trajectory from his youth in the hood to returning home after receiving success for his stories about the people that filled his life. Similarities to track as “Keisha’s Song” or “Sing About Me” exists, the untimely demise of friends, Keemo making public these fates and receiving spite as someone who left his people behind. Regardless, no track feels like a channeling of Kendrick, much rather a parallel told with many excruciating details of Keemo’s life and environment. Money hymns resound in their reflexive paradoxes (“Regen”), gangster anthems hit hard in Funkvater Frank’s awe-inspiring production (“Sandmann”, “Suplex”, “Civic”). The latter as creative partner of OG Keemo is what makes the album pop in every aural sense, clothing the rappers’ words and sentiments in the much talked about all-black hoodie, gloves, and Air Force Ones. Growth by both can be heard in every track, but nowhere as striking as in introspective moments of “Toele” and “Petrichor”, somewhat unusual for the power and disgust Keemo can bring to the fore, but entirely fitting for the downtrodden gangster persona he made his first impact with. If there is one album to listen to from a German rapper, it is OG Keemo – even without a single word understood, Mann Beisst Hund deserved to be listened for its performative density alone.

 

13. Jesu – Pity/ Piety

Justin K. Broadrick’s Jesu served as my introduction to doom metal without adhering to many genre conventions. Hearing Heartache in 2005 revealed a world of electronic production and heavy guitar sounds played in slow motion at once and my understanding of music was shifting towards the discovery of acts such as Isis and Prurient. Pity/ Piety is a call back to those days of reverb soaked long-form composition of swaying riffs and a yearning and hollowed Broadrick pushing out his pain. The sparse drum machine with the glistening guitar is akin to a stopping heartbeat, a murmur of sorts, weighed down by Jesu’s affects. With 40 Watt Sun making the list, this is the inverting of Patrick Walker’s sentiments on Perfect Light. Jesu mourns the experience of compassion, the “endless pain of light” in a way that reflects Schopenhauer’s philosophy of pity: The ability to feel the pain of the other, weighs down you sense of self, stops your own trajectory of want. Jesu’s music was always full of failure, the ephemerality of achievement as well as personal relationships, on “Pity” he expresses this in a new found clarity. “Piety” doubles down on this feeling, but now without a hint of redemption, the darkest despair opening a path. To where remains largely open, but as with Infinity or moments on Terminus, this Sisyphean walk through pain yields delight, an answer to the question of what remains when you burn you soul, hopes and wishes to the ground. With Pity/ Piety Jesu has reinforced a unique aurality as a way of life, a modus operandi that has inflected my thoughts and works since my early teens.

 

12. Freddie Gibbs – $oul $old $eparately

Skill was never an issue for Freddie Gibbs. His Freddie tape showed his command of trap music, while his collaborations with Madlib and Alchemist were the word-play heavy, jazzy, and soul-infused records of every old-heads dream. On Soul Sold Separately, Freddie’s proper major label debut, all influences and shades of his musical persona are combined for a playlist full of hits. The concept of visiting a casino, spiked with different people phoning in to follow up on Freddie as a performer, manager and musician working on the album don’t do much for the singular tracks that accompany them. “Couldn’t Be Done” as the opener is the grand, velvet lines and firework backed entrance, a victory-lap for an artist that most considered underrated in the slew of hazy rappers and drug-overlords ruling the airwaves. After “Blackest In The Room” is the tune for waiting in the larger than life lobby of Gibbs consciousness, “Pain & Strife” changes the mood for a solemn money anthem. Sequenced with “Zipper Bags”, both pieces display a consciousness that is still very much entrenched in what the streets and the drug trade took from it. As Pusha T can state “it’s almost dry” to give a distance to his days of selling drugs and allude to himself as master painter, Gibbs state is still that of waiting for the kilo to dry. Boastful tracks like “Too Much” or “Lobster Omlette” land at the right time, rounding out the certainty of vice with the financial reward of success. Standouts like “Dark Hearted” and “Gold Rings” fall into the psychedelia of Alchemist and Madlib productions, sucking up Gibbs words in soundscape that paint him as a gangster’s Stevie Wonder, allowing for his voice to almost sing and resonate with his most RnB intentions. “CIA” deserves special attention, not only as a thematic closer, but for its political wordplay of “Crack, Instagram and Aids” to break down black people in the hoods – fitting and distressing all the same. While “Decoded” is not the strongest offering except for providing a platform for Scarface, the pre-release tracks with Schoolboy Q and Jadakiss, while missing from the official tracklist are highly recommended. I sequence “Black Illuminati” as the first track of the album, a somber transition into SSS, and the playful “Gang Signs” as the laid-back closer.

 

11. Moin – Paste

What felt like an extended session of setting the mood and Magaletti joining the ranks of Halstead and Andrews on Moot! has not fully grown into an abrasive beast of post-punk inertia. It is intriguing to know that the trio is very much inclined to channel the greats based on their stirring guitars and off-beat percussions, but to accomplish this without the nihilism of monotone vocals as such. The samples and snippets utilized on Paste, in all their nonsensical ambiance, deliver strange insights, especially when they are twisted and distorted into obscurity. Paste is a monolith of electronic music meeting non-finito structures of post-punk music. At times the energies turn grungy, as if listening to Soundgarden demos without a full band, on other tracks like “Hung Up” the narrative frame of the voices hold the whole collage together, a motif and big picture bathed in Lynchian obscurity. While I will always long for the bone shattering bass of Raime’s early work, their unwillingness to repeat themselves is what makes Moin tick.