![]() In the case of Brazilian virtuoso guitar player and singer-songwriter Rogê (pronounced haw-zheh), his sonic diamonds were born from saudade, a Portuguese word akin to “deep longing” but that doesn’t have a direct translation rather, it’s a feeling, one that intensifies when you’re away from a land, a person, a moment that you love. It takes courage, a sense of fearlessness, creating pressure that yields precious stones. Leaving your first home, your birthplace, the place that raised and made you - it ain’t easy. It’s vulnerable, honest, and, accompanied by such a hard-driving jungle beat, impossible to resist. “I get so stuck inside my head / this overthinking sends me west…” she intones via gorgeous vocal delivery. For fans of more R&B-influenced styles, guest vocalist Maverick Sabre delivers the perfect groove-driven soulful antidote on “No Need 2 Be Sorry, Call Me?”Īnd then there’s “So Tell Me.” Lovesick Nia lets us into her intimate world of heartache, confusion, and longing. The fiery opening track, “Baianá,” is a nod to Brazilian jungle pioneers DJ Marky and DJ Patife, where a furious mix of samba and breakbeats offer a perfect backdrop to soaring Brazilian chants. ![]() She delivers the exquisite chaos of the jungle sound in six palatable tracks that pay homage to her many influences, including samba and R&B. Nia’s third EP, Sunrise Bang Ur Head Against Tha Wall, is a testament to the genre’s longevity and unwavering appeal. Chief among those finding inspiration in the “old-school” jungle motif (in particular, the early ‘94-96 amen breaks style of jungle, my absolute favorite) is the UK’s Nia Archives. Even more intriguing is the new generation of artists centering their work on its sound. The often-underrated genre of jungle (aka drum ‘n’ bass) has been enjoying an intriguing resurgence lately, finding its way onto tracks and remixes by artists not typically associated with the style (see: Disclosure’s “Higher Than Ever Before,” Fat Freddy’s Drop’s Bones’ “Dub Pistols & Freestylers Remix,” and Sweatson Klank’s “Can I Go”). Andrea Domanick (Digital Editorial Manager) The Lamb As Effigy by Sprain In that sense, The Lamb as Effigy is a document of what it feels like to be alive right now: A reckoning of modern life’s paradoxes, crying out because we yearn for, demand, and maybe even believe in something better. You have no idea where the record is going or what you’re going to hear next, but you’re along for the free-fall. The result is music that sounds aggressively of the moment and unlike anything else, liberated from the cultural feedback loops that make so much new art feel reactionary and safe. ![]() Is this slowcore? Art rock? Post-rock? No wave? Noise? Minimalism? It’s “all of the above” and “none of the above,” masterfully orchestrated around its no-rules approach. Less often, but all the more cathartic, are moments of consonant grandeur. This is a difficult album, rife with dissonance, screaming, paranoia, and oppressive stillness. Literally - from the full album title, to the 96-minute run time, to its eight tracks (two of which clock in at over 24 minutes each) - but more so spiritually: An articulation, symphonic in scale, of existential vertigo. The Lamb as Effigy is the second and (for now) final album by Sprain, scions of the urgency and innovation springing from LA’s underground. It’s the same reason why the band played continuously, relentlessly, for more than three hours, exhausting their material and the crowd, and why, shortly after, the band abruptly called it quits. There’s a reason why Sprain is your favorite band’s favorite band right now, and why, at their album release show at the Moroccan Lounge in September, the line literally wrapped around the block. The Lamb as Effigy or Three Hundred and Fifty XOXOXOS for a Spark Union With My Darling Divine
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |