New Music / Lists

Fresh Picks: June Releases from Sault, Arca and Run The Jewels

Reviews of new and noteworthy albums from June 2020: Sault are suave and meditative on “Untitled (Black Is),” Arca contorts with transformative electronic avant-pop on “KiCk i” and Run The Jewels’ sharp irreverent rap on “RTJ 4” is a surefire protest classic.

June’s best albums are all timely exaltations of diversity, in a historical moment where the fight to justly honour the spectrum of identity buzzes with the possibility of becoming a watershed. These three albums are exceptional even disregarding the fact that they speak so directly to the current zeitgeist. It is just even more special that we get to enjoy them right now, within nucleus of social change. Get excited.

Sault, “UNTITLED (Black Is)”

Sault released their masterful LP on Juneteeth, with a notorious absence of fanfare now typical from this elusive band. The record is a deeply moving and personal journey into Black identity presented with funky and affecting musicality. The album’s strength lies in its celebration of the lived experience through the Black lens, creating truth to power without any pretense.

The symbolism in the name, UNTITLED (Black Is), seems pointed. For starters it is as undescriptive as the enigmatic collective of Sault, who premiered mysteriously with UK label Forever Living Original in 2019 with the LP’s 5 in May and 7 in September, with mere speculation as to the identity of its artists. More importantly UNTITLED (Black Is) is symbolic of the record’s central theme of Blackness. The marginalisation of what Black Is, reads as a footnote in parentheses even when the main title itself offers no representation: Untitled, unnamed, unrepresented. It is an echo to Malcolm X, who shed his his colonial slave-masters surname. The word “untitled” may carry an even more literal meaning, for the Black Lives Matter movement has logically enfolded indigenous rights movements, and first nations people continue to be denied native title by colonists, robbed alongside much of their identity.

Like Sault’s earlier releases, the sounds on this record are soulful and groovy— extremely catchy tunes against a backdrop of activist themes. It might seem strange that such a seemingly jarring dichotomy actually melds so smoothly, but it is this very synthesis that makes it compelling. To apply an intersectional approach and borrow the feminist terminology of “private” and “public” spheres to characterise this album, UNTITLED (Black Is) negotiates both the the individual meaning of Blackness, of private internalisations of identity and pride, with the political public through open communal encouragement to fight and speak out. For gender theorists, the private sphere of the home and family was traditionally a ‘woman’s place’ seen as a way to exclude feminine expression in politics. For the Black community the patronising subjugation and segregation into an even narrower section of the private (most clearly in the form of slavery and its consequences) was far more aggressive. By combining the personal with the public in UNTITLED (Black Is), Sault paints a holistic picture of Black struggle to resonate profoundly.

The private expresses itself clearly in the astute interludes littered throughout the album. Monologues ruminate “Black is Granny / Black is Aunty / Black is, “There’s still meat on that bone, lil’ girl” / Am I eating wrong?” in “Out the Lies”, and that “We all know black is beautiful / You know, well now you do” in “Black Is” and, “I don’t believe in the myth of the angry black woman / I believe in the magic of blackness” in “Us”. These bring the story home reflected directly in the mirror. All the while the rally cries from “Stop dem,” to “Pray up, stay up, pray up / (They tryin’ to keep us down)” are fortified by the repetitive chanting lyrics and the consistent marching beat carried through the songs. The record balances celebrating Black beauty with a furious determination for actualisation denied for so long.

The conflict, personal and political, is evident in “Sorry Ain’t Enough” which starts with a sympathetic negotiation set to a sultry and gentle beat: “Can you forgive your people? / They’re just hurting inside / If you look in the mirror / You will see it’s just pride.” The rhythm breaks and becomes more driven at “But sorry ain’t enough […] I’m gonna scrap whatever you say / ’Cause nobody can do it my way / Throw it in the bin and light the coffin / I promise you I’ll be everything.” With an anger tempered by sorrow at so many points of the LP, this multifaceted perspective is utterly reflective of the many dimensions which have lead to the race tensions of today.

On “Don’t Shoot,” the phrases “Don’t shoot, guns down,” “Don’t shoot I’m innocent,” and “Racist policeman” layer on repeat with a tense creeping Afro-beat and police sirens. The track is followed by the lightly melodic “Wildfire,” again telling the familiar story of murderous police. “Wildfire” then burgeons in the chorus “But we will never show fear / Even in my eyes / I will always rise / In wildfires.” Hope is made more poignant by the gentle female vocals and sauntering bassline in an almost casual stride which captures the reality of police brutality being soconstant in Black lives, entrenched by the broader community’s sheer indifference. In such a context, defiance glitters and lights a spark.

The consistently sanguine tone of the album attaches to the idea that this time it’s going to be different. On “Hard Life” a major key change ushers in the exaltation that “Finally, we’ve reached the end” and “Everything is gonna be alright because God is, God is on your side.” While “Nobody listened/Nobody cared/This generation cares” (“This Generation”) — like previous revolutionaries, hope attaches to the next generation and to the future. The gospel refrains throughout are just as common as the frequent use of children’s voices. The lullaby-like instrumental “Only Synth in Church is followed by the track “Monsters” which you can imagine read as a fairytale bedtime story, with a well trodden idiom that fear dehumanises to create monsters in our head.

UNTITLED (Black Is) comes as a Name-Your-Price offering on Bandcamp, with all proceeds pledged to be donated to charitable funds, and the note: “We present our first ‘Untitled’ album to mark a moment in time where we as Black People, and of Black Origin are fighting for our lives. RIP George Floyd and all those who have suffered from police brutality and systemic racism. Change is happening… We are focused.” Sault foreground Blackness to bring it out of the shadows into the light. There is no excuse to stream this or to not give this album a listen when you can hear it for free or better yet, give funds the Black Lives Matter movement in the process.

Released 19 June 2020, Forever Living Original

Rating: 8.5/10

Arca, “KiCk i”

In her most exultant and self-assured LP to date, Arca asserts herself on KiCk i, which promises to be the first KiCk album in a series of four. Alejandra Ghersi has performed as Arca for the last decade, known for her glitchy, contortionist experimental electronic sound. Alongside 4 solo LP’s, her production, programming and writing credits spans from FKA Twigs to Kelela to Kanye. That Arca’s latest release is a decided variation to the expected aesthetic must be contextualised amidst Ghersi’s personal journey. In 2018, after the 2017 release of her last self-titled album, Arca, Ghersi publicly came out as non-binary and then as a trans woman. It’s no wonder KiCk i feels transformative in its “pop” twist to Arca’s usually ascerbic brand.

The first track “Non-Binary” reads as a defiant foreword to the album. Spat out in spoken-word, Arca affirms her self-states and is viciously unapologetic in exploring the pluralism of gender and emotion. The conversational relay of rap sees Arca taking ownership of her individual against a silent adversary, turning them into the ‘other’: “It’s French tips wrapped ‘round a dick / Do you want a taste? / I don’t give a fuck what you think / You don’t know me / You might owe me / But, bitch, you’ll never know me”. The lyrical sass and humour becomes unconcealed glee by the end of the track: “What a treat it is to be / Nonbinary / Ma chérie / Tee-hee-hee / Bitch.” Arca bites and laughs in a whirl of fluidity makes this album such a treat.

It is the pleasure, celebration and glee in this album that stands in contrast to Arca’s earlier works which were either deliberately discordant, or melodically mournful and haunting. Even her release earlier this year, “@@@@@,” a 62-minute track segmented in a mix tape fashion, could hardly be described as accessible in the same way as KiCk i. Although in her teens Ghersi dabbled in synth-pop under the name Nuuro, she attests that before now, “Desafío” from Arca was the only major-key-pop-like track released as Arca. Arca itself was described by Ghersi in Pitchfork interview as “a very mournful record, I was tackling shame. After transitioning, I took that dissonance and put it outside myself […] So it took a lot of bravery to articulate things really explicitly.” Despite the newness of this raw and honest album, KiCk i still retains some of the unpredictability and muddled depth of her iconic sound while championing a new vibrancy in place of despair.

A number of songs on this album are set in a major key and lyrics play a much larger role than they have in the past. The floating, dreamy ballad “Time” is audibly hopeful with the affirmation that “it’s time/ To let it out / And show the world.” The next track “Mequetrefe” takes it out to the streets, with a jaunty reggaeton beat and a lyrical strut. Mequetrefe is a derogatory term in Spanish but Arca is not afraid to flaunt it, she wants all eyes on her. Textured distorted vocals sing: “Ella no toma taxi, que la vean, que la vean en la calles (She doesn’t take taxi, to be seen, seen on the streets) / Tiene la personalidad (She’s got the personality) / Y mira su pasito, que le da igualito (And look at her tiny steps, she don’t care).” The music video is an unstable warp between a sensual, beautiful Alejandra Ghersi dancing between stable definition and stretched out contorted forms like some kind of demonic PhotoBooth acid trip. In an earlier review of Yves Tumor’s Heaven To a Tortured Mind, I commented on a music video from that album invoking an Arca-esque aesthetic. Now, Arca similarly deploys a mix of weirdness and flamboyance presenting this static ego-state. The joy that emanates from this album is pure — Arca is having fun and taking ownership.

The fluidity of language is another example of this album’s multiplicity, with equal amounts of English and Spanish reflecting Ghersi’s Venezuelan heritage and her current life in Spain. Arca confirms that multilingual dissonance is a deliberate choice on this album “because it favors a life that is more unexpected, vibrant and full of possibility. Who doesn’t want that?” In that vein, Björk, a longstanding collaborator of Arcas, adds Spanish to her own list of languages as a feature artist on “Afterwards,” with pronunciation coached by ROSALÍA who herself appears on “KLK”. London rapper Shygirl and electro-Scot SOPHIE also feature on the album, all together bringing a power house of avant-pop for Arca to trumpet as her girl-squad posse. But these glamorous feature artists do not promise pop dance floor bangers by any means, Arca remains faithful to her clamourous sound by weaving the collaborative vocals into the very fibre of her songs, they’re truly genuine features rather than guest stars.

The experience of dysphoria that has dogged Arca’s sound, a pain externalised in the past, is now owned as a strength. This idea is most successful on the first half of KiCk i and as the confidence becomes less loud it leaves a yearning for the more tender and delicate abilities of Arca. Nonetheless, Arca’s pop iteration is yet another undulation of her freedom and individuality. Arca takes her hallmark jarring wonkiness incubates it and kicks out with a joyful metamorphosis of sound in her most accessible album yet.

Released 26 June 2020, XL Recordings

Rating: 8/10

Run The Jewels, “RTJ 4”

Run The Jewels’ Killer Mike and El-P slam dunk from track to track on RTJ 4. With old school cred and indie appeal, this pair have never cowered away from calling out the bastards and hypocrites. It’s a bitter fight but they are always sure to punch up. Now, they’re “Back at it like a crack addict” as they open on “yankee and the brave.” Spitting verses with zeal and vigor, RTJ capture the fury, absurdity and energy of today with uncanny accuracy. Not only do they manage to pithyly scrutinize systemic inequalities of race, class and economy, their humour satirises in a way that makes their points both digestible and piercing at the same time.

There are lines on the album so succint in their ability to educate. On “goonies vs. E.T.” it’s “We accept the role of the villains ’cause we been villainized.” The next track “walking in the snow” has some of the most damning and hard-hitting rhymes of the record. El-P lays out the mechanics of the machine: “Funny fact about a cage, they’re never built for just one group / So when that cage is done with them and you still poor, it come for you.” Killer Mike expands with a verse on institutionalisation and institutional racism that will stand out to any listener:

They promise education, but really they give you tests and scores
And they predictin’ prison population by who scoring the lowest
And usually the lowest scores the poorest and they look like me
And every day on the evening news, they feed you fear for free
And you so numb, you watch the cops choke out a man like me
Until my voice goes from a shriek to whisper, “I can’t breathe”

RTJ released this record two days earlier than anticipated after the murder of George Floyd galvanised the BLM movement and made RTJ4 all the more pertinent. RTJ wrote this record over the last 18 months and confirmed that the lyric “I can’t breathe” is connected to the case of Eric Garner, not Floyd. The parallel is chilling but unsurprising. Recently, a New York Times investigation revealed that “over the past decade […] at least 70 people have died in law enforcement custody after saying the same words — “I can’t breathe. […] More than half were black.” Similarly confronting is witnessing Donald Trump push to immortalise the colonial legacy of American leaders this Independence Day, while the next track on the album,“Ju$t,” features Pharell Williams and Zack de la Rocha pointing out “Look at all these slave masters posin’ on yo’ dollar (Get it? Yeah).” RTJ have lived and known about this agonising truth for a long time, now it’s time to really listen.

The album is premised around the characters of “yankee and the brave”, played on the small screen by the New Yorker El-P and Atlantan Killer Mike. These rough-hewn anti-heroes rampage through the album as if on a television serial starring cowboys, bounty-hunters, Robin Hoods or just a “murder rapper for hire” (as per “holy calamafuck”). On the run from corrupt killer police and greedy charlatans in power, Killer Mike considers the stakes: “I got one round left, a hunnid cops outside / I could shoot at them or put one between my eyes / Chose the latter, it don’t matter, it ain’t suicide / And if the news say it was, that’s a goddamn lie / I can’t let the pigs kill me, I got too much pride…” Then El-P weighs in “And you still owe me for them Nikes, you do not get to just die / You try to fuck with my brother, you get the bastard surprise.” Unlike the apocalyptic, anarchic themes at the heart of RTJ 3, this album harnesses vitality and adventure to counter their more fatalistic tendencies. El-P in particular can still deliver his heavy existential woes but, as is the case with the Nikes on credit, there’s comedy that brings it back from the brink and delivers hope.

A triumph of this album also comes from the balance of old and new that El-P and Killer Mike are able to muster. Both seasoned musicians are married and in their forties, having carved acclaimed solo careers before forming RTJ in the last decade. Their life experience gives them allowance to be indignant without seeming righteous or derivative. But while RTJ are clearly fed up, they are absolutely not worn out. When questioned on XXL about how the pair sill sound invigorated and fresh after so long in the game, El-P retorts: “There’s a fucking reason we’ve been here for fucking 20 years. It’s not luck. We’re still hungry, we’ve been hungrier than muthafuckers forever. Killer Mike adds: “A shark doesn’t know how old it is. A shark doesn’t know what’s going on above, outside that water. A shark knows that there’s blood in the water, I’m hungry, and I need prey.” RTJ’s appetite is thrilling and right now this album feeds an equally ravenous crowd.

Parts of the record are gleefully rebellious like the track “Ooh La La” which throws boisterous condescention at the idea of poncy respectability. The chorus sample of Greg Nice from Gang Starr’s “DWYCK,” playfully mimics “Ooh, la la, ah, oui oui (Ayy)” and Killer Mike laughs “I’m a dog, I’m a dirty dog, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha.” It’s a playful and jovial, filled with youthful flair. At the same time there are more whimsical elements, the track is set to a vaudeville or ragtime clang of piano and drums. The mocking of bourgeois “ooh la la” even seems to invoke the revolutionary spirit of Hamilton the musical, as does the “bruum-pum-pum-pum” of the next track “out of sight”. The scrappy yankee and the brave litter energetic quips and wisecracks throughout the album, humanising these underdogs while heightening the power of their words when things get real.

Another illustration of youth crossed with maturity appears during the bank heist “goonies vs. E.T.” Sonically, vintage hip-hop drum fills combine with modern acid industrial bass. El-P ruminates on the fickleness of capitalism contrasting his own career’s financial success to the environment’s destiny: “Fuck y’all got, another planet on stash? / Far from the fact of the flames of our trash? / That is not snow, it is ash […].” Meanwhile Killer Mike’s introspection comes up against tokenistic tech-culture and fetishising suffering: “Used to be a time I’d see it and not say it / Now I understand that woke folk be playin’ / Ain’t no revolution that’s televised and digitized / You’ve been hypnotized and Twitter-ized by silly guys.” Mike modernises a Black Power slogan from Gil Scott-Heron’s 1971 track “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.” RTJ bring their past into the present with references from Bob Ross to Public Enemy to Twitter to LARPing. That Killer Mike and El-P do not forget history is a powerful lesson.

A more sobering point is the adultness of the line on the album’s final track “a few words for the firing squad (radiation).” With the coming-of-age of the precocious yankee and the brave sees them at the end of the road Killer Mike shirks senseless extremism by bringing the cause home: “But my queen say she need a king, not another junkie, flunky rapper fiend / Friends tell her, “He could be another Malcolm, he could be another Martin” / She told her partner, “I need a husband more than the world need another martyr.” El-P references his sister Sarah, who was raped, Killer Mike speaks of his defeated mother who died an addict. Now on death row by the end of the album Mike’s “last words to the firing squad was, “Fuck you too””. RTJ empathetically pay tribute to all the fighters, the oppressed, the accomplices to their notorious yankee and the brave.

Run The Jewels bring biting commentary that actually edifies during a time of protest. RTJ can nail prodigious rhymes and slick production, yet the cockiness of the album’s narrotors is never callous because they speak towards real grassroots sentiment. The genuine union of friendship and love between El-P and Killer creates music that inspires resistance, humanity and candour. Individually anthemic and collectively energizing, the tracks that make up RTJ4 stand testament to the fact that Killer Mike and El-P have made something larger than themselves.

Released 3 June 2020, Jewel Runners/BMG

Rating: 9/10

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Hum, Inlet (Earth Analogue) // Speaker Music, Black Nationalist Sonic Weaponry (Planet Mu) // Jessie Ware, What’s Your Pleasure? (Friends Keep Secrets/Interscope) // Bob Dylan, Rough and Rowdy Ways (Colombia)// Phoebe Bridgers, Punisher (Dead Oceans) // Haim, Women In Music Pt. III (Colombia) // Bibio, Sleep on the Wing (Warp) //

words by Joy Qin