news

ALEX REVIEWS MUSIC (ARM): RYAN ADAMS – BLACKHOLE | 2024-12-07

Having recently celebrated half a century alive on this big fat rock, North Carolinian singer/songwriter Ryan Adams took it upon himself to bookend this sad, strange, beautiful year with the official release of his long-awaited, indefinitely-shelved cult item BLACKHOLE. After making good on the promise of his ultra-epic PaxAm album tetralogy this past New Year’s Day (seeing the simultaneous release of four new studio LPs: 1985, Sword & Stone, Heatwave, and Star Sign), on this recent 6th of December he completed the longtime coming dispatch of his lost 2005 studio gem. With its widespread digital release following a few weeks after the delivery of its physical formats, the sough-after collection came through as an 11-track record, clocking in at just about 35 minutes of runtime. This new album marks his THIRTIETH, 3-0, solo full length since the 2000 breakthrough exploit Heartbreaker.

Speaking of his smash debut project, the former Whiskeytown founder recently announced an ambitious world tour for 2025, celebrating 25 years since its release, and spanning nearly sixty dates across eight months of the calendar year (March through October). Adams appears to be enjoying keeping himself untenably busy, for he’s literally just concluded his own other acoustic solo tour of the US this fall, highlighting additional anniversaries of career standout LPs such as Love Is Hell (twenty years) and his Self-Titled (ten years). It’s just too bad that nearly no cuts off either album were actually played during his 3+ hour, 30-song setlist, having recently witnessed his final tour stop in person at New York’s Carnegie Hall.

Back to BLACKHOLE—with an oral history dating the initial writing sessions for it as far back as 2005, it’s safe to say that the record has not only had fans salivate for its release for nearly twenty years, but it has also long been lauded as his one true masterpiece by pockets of hardcore stans. To fan them flames, the 7-time Grammy Awards-nominated artist famously noted how BLACKHOLE “took 4 years to make […] and to me it is basically Love Is Hell, Pt. 3“, adding how ‘it’s like Love is Hell’s sister. In every way. In the most profound way. My most beautiful electric guitar: Johnny Marr-inspired guitar. It’s just all in there“. Now that the gift has been unwrapped, that is certainly not untrue. It’s also interesting though how sonically, this record does not feel out of place amidst the recent spat of consecutive releases, either (particularly when placed side-by-side with outings like Chris, FM, and Devolver)—lest one forgets, Ryan Adams has unveiled as many as sixteen different projects since his marvelously austere Wednesdays in late 2020.

Now, this realization certainly begs a question with one of two possible answers; i) either has BLACKHOLE been receiving some late-stage studio retooling and retouching (further corroborated by the apparent last-minute omission of previously announced deep cut “Disco Queen“, dropped on the cutting room floor), or ii) some of the projects he’s been releasing in the past couple years actually date back a few decades recording-wise. Truly and honestly, by virtue of both his relentless prolificness, and his endlessly deep catalog, either has merit and robust chances of being true. At the end of the day, it doesn’t quite matter, for BLACKHOLE is no ‘new music’ by any stretch of the imagination—yet future historians will look at the 6th of December 2024 as its birthdate, so we might as well treat it as such and give it a little appraisal.

Musically, albeit a tad bit more polished and sanitized compared to, say, the roughness of Heatwave, 1985, or his recent cover series trifecta, the record leans heavier on the dirty garagey-end of his catalog spectrum, as opposed to the sterilized grandeur of his major label-joint venture era of Prisoner and Big Colors. Of course, it’s still drenched in good ole chorus effects and magnitudes of reverb. While no lead single was announced as part of the roll out, the best songwriting at the core of these tunes is probably found on “Call Me Back“, “Starfire” (“Without leaving a trace / I watch her disappear / Come hold me in the rain / Come take away my fears“), and “Catherine“. Yet the most well-rounded and focused record of the bunch might just be “Tomorrowland“, at number nine on the tracklist—the way Adams renders some of his biggest influences in his own unique way, like The Replacements or Bruce Springsteen, typically so overtly worn on his sleeves, is simply gorgeous. Also, the carefulness and intention with which this cut is produced and engineered also have served as the album’s yardstick, yet many other tracks fell short of achieving that.

Elsewhere, opening jam “The Door” as well as “Help Us” and “Likening Love to War” on the front-end A-side of the disc, sound just like they stem right out of the Prisoner B-sides studio sessions—at the very least instrumentally. On account of the uncanny similarities, and by the same token as a result of the cleaner six-string arrangements, these three numbers tend to reverb a smidge out of place with the rest of BLACKHOLE. They do end up growing with each listen though; their sequencing at the beginning of the project undoubtedly helps them mould the auditory experience in their favor. “Just You Wait“, placed halfway through the record, is perhaps the most Love Is Hell-esque reference centerpiece, with its unhinged pen and self-destructive ennui (“It’s funny how she’s so fucked up, she has the nerve to judge somebody else so obviously pure / Listen up, it’s ok / Fuck em all / Be yourself / You know the good ones are always the freaks“). Start here if you’re a puritan and blind follower of the word in the Gospel of Adams, indeed hailing a Love Is Hell, Pt. 3.

To round the tracklist up, “For The Sun” at number seven strikes a fun balance between his mid-00s hit “This House Is Not for Sale” and something off Rock N Roll, whereas penultimate offering “Runaway” is in turn a much bigger, prettier, and immaculately produced bop, one that he should’ve handed over to The Killers instead? Yet, DRA decided to keep it, so this should’ve been the album outro—for the actual BLACKHOLE swan song, “When I Smile“, is just… weird. With its ostensibly upbeat and funky groove, paired with somewhat forgettable hive-mind surface-level lyrics (“All of the birds up in thе tees / All of these trees / All of these trees / They’re like birds“), how this song didn’t end up on freakin’ FM, or as a PaxAm-only vinyl-exclusive bonus track, simply beats us.

At the same time, it’s quite symptomatic and actually on-brand for the late-stage type of Ryan Adams we’re experiencing. And for BLACKHOLE as a project: it’s attractive, memorable, rough around its edges. But it answers no question unequivocally (except for that nope, this album isn’t his one true lost magnum opus). Which in turn might lend a dignified and honest nature to this collection of tracks—it’s earnest and sincere. It captures what the poet laureate legitimately felt. Perhaps it’s time we lost veneered expectations of who Ryan Adams the artist really is, and surrendered ourselves to the grip of the blackhole’s jaws.

We’d like to thank you sincerely for taking the time to read this and we hope to feel your interest again next time.

AV

RYAN ADAMS

BLACKHOLE

2024, PAXAM

https://ryanadamsofficial.com

WE ARE KENDRICK LAMAR | 2024-11-30

Okay, then tell me the truth
Every individual is only a version of you
How can they forgive when there’s no forgiveness in your heart?

Kendrick Lamar Duckworth low-key stole Thanksgiving by surprise-releasing his highly-anticipated sixth studio album Grand National Experimental, GNX in short, halfway through the day on the Friday prior. Such an act of Congress evidently recalibrated the mainstream music discourse to its core, riding on the coattails of a momentously triumphant year-to-date for the 37-year-old Compton, CA native. Congruently to being unveiled without much fanfare, GNX is a relatively short and sticky musical affaire, considering the existing discography of the pgLang co-founder. Yet, its immediacy and appeal don’t come at the expense of its inherent messaging. One’s gotta dig though. It’s no spoon-feeding. What else did we expect, after all?

The opening salvo above, lifted from the LP’s pièce de résistance, “reincarnated“, which in turn tastefully and carefully flipped Tupac’s 1997 “Made N****z”, is a short sequence of bars that not only essentializes his creed, but goes as far as triaging one of the highest teaching from the Book of Kendrick (New Testament). In a late-stage capitalist climate that commodifies antagonism and seeks prize fighting, in a complete symbiosis with the rap game celebrating K.Dot as the undisputed heavyweight champion, he hits us with the softest, most passive-aggressive jab he can. After all, he’d already employed a whole double-album real estate to imperfectly sketch it all out raw for us, on Mr Morale & the Big Steppers.

By admitting that battling your competitors equals to battling yourself—not unlike Lacanian understandings of self-liberation perhaps best captured in mainstream through Fight Club—Kendrick exhumes a surprisingly inclusive message of universalism. Call it the law of our identity averaging those of the five people we spend most time with, chalk it up to affable Christianity; the cause here matters less than its effect. Here’s a tiny monition though: the former Top Dawg Entertainment recording artist can afford to seemingly contradict himself precisely because he’s the winner, not in spite of it. The implicit equity of a king admitting the peoples into the castle and telling them they’re all the same is outright superior to that of a moribund going out in spiritual style.

GNX is about agency and structure. It’s both an albatross and its excommunication. “wacced up murals” is its best tune, “squabble up” and “tv off” easily the funnest and stickiest, “heart pt. 6” perhaps the most gorgeous; yet if you only intend to press play on one of the cuts on this thing, make it “reincarnated”. It’s the study notes to Kung Fu Kenny’s whole entire career message. In our hyper-normalized, globalized, mediated landscape, most people can sure use shortcuts. The 2018 Pulitzer Prize for Music winner stands as a symptom, as a reaction to the erratic world, the one agent purported to help dismantle its structuralism. We all know panaceas are not known for being pretty. They’re far from unblemished.

On that note, what a distinctive and subtle way to silence detractors, hypocritically pointing at the inherent contradictions of parts of his gospel reconciling with Kodak Black and Dody6 features, as well as Dr. Dre mentorships. Desertion from pretentious yuppie outlets abound—he who is without sin cast the first stone, anyone? Jealousy is presumably a big one, too. With some internalized racism sprinkled on top, just for good measure. How is any pundit to keep a straight face lamenting GNX‘s self-esteem as ghastly, while Post Malone and Taylor Swift win their umpteenth meaningless award? As fellow contemporary heavyweight crown contenders resort to puffy and sterilized exculpatory devices, Kendrick Lamar lays it all out bare.

The very notion of reincarnation comes up several times within the latest batch of Lamar oeuvre. It features in the creative powering through the literal half-hour of promotion before GNX dropped on the 22nd November—mind you, on a snippet for a record that didn’t even make the final cut on the official tracklist. It’s of course the titular theme on the aforementioned standout, but it’s also mentioned prominently on the “squabble up” bop. The Los Angeles rapper spends the whole of track number six dishing out the inevitability of death and rebirth (one could canvas this as “soul pt. 6”, to reference its heart-centric companion on the album’s back-end). The transformative cycle of life as the only trustworthy upcycling process—devoid of specific allegiances to preconceived cloths, in spite of its biblical references (“You fell out of Heaven ’cause you was anxious / Didn’t like authority, only searched to be heinous / Isaiah fourteen was the only thing that was prevalent / My greatest music director was you“).

What the former Black Hippy ringleader is telling us is that he contains multitudes, which in turn include a part of all of us (who here remembers the ‘I Am. All of us.’ from “The Heart Part 5“?). The good thing is that we are a version of him, too. I could tell you where I’m going / I could tell you who you are. Although it’s clearly him who’s at the steering wheel of our daily journaling 1987 Buick GNX, there’s plenty of room for all of us to ride shotgun. On two Kendrick world conditions; one, that shall remain the sole reference to weapons throughout. Two, he’s condignly in charge.

We’d like to thank you sincerely for taking the time to read this and we hope to feel your interest again next time.

AV

JID FOR PRESIDENT | 2024-10-13

Putting socio-economical urges and indomitable vox populi to the side, the world needs JID‘s new album. Kind of… now. Regardless of how one might interpret the artist born Destin Choice Route’s multi-year teasing of a next project—be that the highly-anticipated final album trilogy installment Forever & A Day, or his joint Metro Boomin exploit—the truth of the matter is that the necessity exists. The fact that around three weeks from now a whole entire US Presidential election is on the line, is only partly coincidental. America is hurting. The world of hip-hop is in its most frail, fragmented, and existential juncture in decades. And in spite of what certain sheepish media gatekeepers will have you believe, we aren’t necessarily better off than our parents. What’s certain, is that there seem to be so many externalities that precede our reputations, walking down the street of one’s neighborhood. Affluence, status, class, ethnicity, creed, attire—that’s neither how we build a never nor a forever story.

At this point, we all know JID is the type of rapper who takes his time to perfect his craft and packaging. Not for nothing his discography only sports three full length studio albums in the span of a near fifteen-year career as a recording artist. Yet, it’s been feeling like the 33-year-old Atlanta wordsmith has had material in spades couched in his holster for a while; which in a way makes the wait hurt even more. Amidst the slew of IG Live bombshells and scattered loosies dropped over the past couple years—with the brilliant “31 (Freestyle)” as just the most recent case in point—the hip-hop community from sea to shining sea has been salivating for more pretty much since the day his pièce de résistance The Forever Story came out in 2022. And honestly, JID, we can only take so many palate cleansers. If we add on the string of both high and low-brow features the Dreamville act has been rocking with during the same timespan, that’s adding insult to injury…

Textual, cinematic, integrated—ever since his stunning and revelatory 2017 debut LP The Never Story, JID has always required the main player joystick on the full creative canvass in order to deliver his most accomplished and consequential work. Look at his stupendous DiCaprio 2 (2018) as canonical living proof. Yes sure, his Dreamville and Spillage Village mixtapes peppered throughout the years are all fine and dandy. Good filler content for all intents and purposes, but they’re no solo JID project. That type of work reaches higher powers, and it’s three for three from downtown so far. That’s a 100% 3-point field goal percentage. Don’t get us wrong, we’ll also take all the contractually fulfilling one-offs and check-ins in the form of featured guest slots (or even that rumored collab album with Denzel Curry), but if one thing’s for sure is that JID needs his own inherent and native wireframe from within which to upcycle his art.

As a viable map for the lost to navigate the prism of the former American Football prodigy’s next big thing, one could unpack the aforementioned Hollywood Cole-produced “31 (Freestyle)” throwaway released earlier this month. “Gun in hand, I ain’t threatin’ it, ’cause it’s a promise / Gonna plan, you ain’t takin’ nothin’ I’ve accomplished / Come in, step outside, it’s all violence / I should resurrect Abe and get slavery abolished“: is this not a statement of masterful intent? Is this not a complete embrace of the industry hype and critical acclaim surrounding the Georgian artist? JID knows all too well that hip-hop is the most necessarily competitive industry of all music genres and styles. While one might maintain that this is no different than any dime-a-dozen album roll out anticipation; there’s something to be said about the stakes being higher if your name is JID.

On the same cut, the Atlanta native reveals how “[…] I don’t politic with the policies of the parliament / Pardon JID, part of my ni**as comin’ from all sides / Place your top five in the archive / Besides all of the rap guys findin’ another rapper dick to ride / Bunch of sperm bank workers and y’all been drinkin’ on the job / Oh God, try offer him tides for a peace of mind“. Now, to regroup both mentally and spiritually ahead of an allegedly huge album drop with not-so-veiled allusions to both rap battles to crown the best in the game (“Place your top five in the archive“), as well as ambulance chasing trend-followers (“[…] all of the rap guys findin’ another rapper dick to ride“), is a sight to behold. It’s relevant stuff. Again, everyone can and will trash talk during the game, yet the only tapes we play back for posterity are Jordan’s and Bryant’s. It’s different when the kid does it.

Because everything Destin dishes out is so minutely thought through, layered, and intentional, there is more to dissect from this freebie number. There’s a sense that the MC is speaking to us in tongues and subliminals, fanning the hungry flame for new material through a strategic deployment of auditory samples. The opening recording on “31 (Freestyle)”, lifted from a song by the 1960s Harlem poetry collective The Last Poets, recites “Ni**as and negros, y’all and all better get right / At this time, while the time is good / ‘Cause it might not be no next time“. That lends itself as another a groovy tautological aid to our pledge here. Through it, JID lets us know that he feels the urgency, the poignancy, too. Peeling back the source sample even further in its original recording, “Time”, one can’t but notice additional second-degree references to the climate the American rapper, singer, and songwriter finds himself within.

Stop us if you feel like we’re edging off the deep end here, but in it we find allusions to his own government name (“Time, time is a ship on a merciless sea / Drifting toward an abyss of nothingness / Until it can be recharted for its own destin[y]“), forlorn descriptions of our dystopian technocratic times (“Time is being caught up in a web of fetal self / Until you become inhuman, something to be controlled“) as well as flat out nihilist incursions into the abhorrently vapid entertainment industry complex: “Like Hollywood ni**as who ain’t got nothing better to do with their time than keep their heads glued between the thighs of some Hollowwood bitch who has gonorrhea of the mouth and syphilis dripping from their mind“. This is JID for you, in a nutshell—just by placing the right seconds-long sample in a free giveaway track to pass the time, he invites you to trojan-horse yourself into a multi-leveled solar system of lyrical puncturing. This is why, to this day, there is still no shortage of perspectives and vantage points being shared and deliberated online about his nine-year-old debut album.

Whether JID’s next project comes in the form of Forever & A Day, or a joint record with Metro—just go listen to “Danger” off their Across the Spider-Verse (Soundtrack from and Inspired by the Motion Picture) collab right now—or even that Denzel Curry mash up, one need not really have to worry. We should just worry about getting that a lot sooner rather than later. Rumor has it JID could’ve made a career in American football. Lots of rap pundits say JID could have been much bigger than he already is. That he should have been much bigger than he is. God willing, JID could’ve been President. Yet, where he’s from, JID could have also been so much worse. Life’s tragicomic inertia is balanced on a fine lever, but it tends to bend toward justice. On his next project, we just ask him to be himself—the rest will fall into place.

We’d like to thank you sincerely for taking the time to read this and we hope to feel your interest again next time.

AV