Hip-hop's expanse has managed to feed its way into outreaching circles of independent music, turning heads and tickling ears of those not already familiar with enthusiasts like Stones Throw, Rhymesayers, and Definitive Jux. Fat Possum and XL have greatly contributed to Odd Future crew's large following, Weird Forest released Lil B's ambient-hip-hop hybrid, and now Sub Pop have taken the opportunity to put forth one of the most transcendent albums in the genre to surface this year-- for the better. If you've already caught wind of Pitchfork and The Guardian's praise toward Shabazz Palaces' debut full-length, my endorsement may not differ.
Black Up borders on being a duel between its versifier and the instrumentals behind them. Both Ishmael Butler's lyricism and Knife Knights' production demand so much that one component is bound occasionally to overshadow another. Miles away from conventions, the extrinsic rhythms are rarely constant, subtly morphing from one arrangement to another as they augment samples beyond recognition. Following the incoherent shuffling on opener "Free Press and Curl" is Butler's psychological inhibitions, "I'm free to be a slave to all these things I can't escape/trapped inside, imagination's tickling at my face" as mechanized juts and ooh's pounce overhead, furthering the impression of inner restraint.
At his most uncanny ("An Echo From The Hosts That Profess Infinitum", "Youlogy") Ishmael's lines are cryptic and obtuse, but whether he delivers accurate social commentary or psychotropic jargon doesn't necessitate deciphering. What Black Up seems to require most is immersion in its atmosphere-- a surreal anachronism of past and future clamor. One likeness to modern hip-hop is the jazz and soul sampling, like the stumbling trumpet loop of "Endeavors For Never" and the emotive female vocal on "Recollections of the Wrath", though the placement of these cuts has a character of its own. Beat-wise, the centerpiece is finale "Swerve... The Reeping of All That Is Worthwhile" with its sharp electronic percussion and undulating harmonies, coloring a foundation for what may be the album's moodiest tune.
Lately, a heap of outfits have aimed to channel obscurer territory, and Shabazz Palaces unmistakably fall into that category. However, this isn't as lyrical as Crownsdown, nor is it as jarring as Exmilitary; Black Up is, simply put, one of a kind. At a well-distributed 36 minutes, these 10 songs cease to approach reiteration, and instead birth new concepts with progression. Believe every bit of the hype.
[Shabazz Palaces Website]
[Buy Black Up from Sub Pop]
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