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Various
Artists
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Lagos Disco Inferno
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Academy LPs
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ESM Rating: 7/10 |
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Your music being discovered at the bottom of a pile
of rubble in an abandoned building some 30-plus years after you created it is
probably not the way most hope to hit the big time in the music world. But for
the artists featured on Lagos Disco
Inferno, this rare compilation of African disco, it’s a miracle it was
discovered at all. Amidst the civil wars and internal conflicts that have
plagued Africa over the last century, the thought of young Nigerians getting
together to make some fun, danceable disco music — and even cultivate a
scene — is a testament to the power of humanity regardless of
circumstances.
During the late ‘70s, Lagos, Nigeria, enjoyed a
period of economic growth due to the oil industry, and the city’s nightlife
flourished as an injection of cash and Westerners and with them disco music
filled the night air with songs of excess. Dean Disi, a music journalist who
was on the scene, had this to say: "It was the era of sheer ecstasy. The
music not only represents the vibrancy of youthful expressionism of the time,
but also is deeply rooted in African rhythm, though not traditional in
phraseology. This collection of songs marks the development of Nigerian urban
pop culture.”
While disco was obviously on a hot streak worldwide
during this time, Lagos bred disco that had a grittier, more energetic flare,
boasting more horn sections and rhythmic African-style drumming and percussion
compared to the synthesized European and American versions. The Lagos Disco Inferno compilation features
12 tracks from 12 different Nigerian artists, the most compelling being “Root” by BLO and “Dancing Machine” by Tirogo.
All of the songs are sung in English, but have that awesome bad pronunciation
that almost sounds like Japanese karaoke, making the album even more endearing.
The sheer novelty of Lagos Disco Inferno is worth adding to your collection as a found treasure, not to mention the
great conversation starters that await your next ‘70s-themed disco party. By
Pete Viele
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| Prizzy
Prizzy Please |
Chroma Cannon
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| Joyful Noise |
| ESM Rating: 7/10 |
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If this album was the soundtrack to every video game
ever made, there would be considerations made toward buying a PlayStation for
my one-year-old niece and myself. Chroma Cannon reminds me of a single
Rick Springfield released about his childhood titled “Like Father Like Son.” The
song is so over the top and out of his league, with an orchestra and emotional
stake about how much he hates his pops, that it’s almost comical. Prizzy
Prizzy Please does the exact opposite by avoiding everything personal and
tackling major issues humans can’t help but laugh about and take as their own
devices.
Prizzy Prizzy Please should sell all of their albums on cassette tapes in
thrift stores, just like Rick Springfield. Old ladies can buy them, pop it in
their tape deck, and have their brains torched. Realistically, Prizzy Prizzy
Please is doing something genuinely original. They front with a saxophone
and play gnarly crushing concept jams about science fantasy, babes, super
conductor time travel, more babes, floating garbage, and other really funny
crap. And true to their press, they are plausibly from the future looking back
on us shaking their heads.
In lieu of recent events, the concept of “Pacific
Garbage Patch” makes for a funny take on a major environmental burden by
chronicling the travels of a small bag that floats to the island of trash now
the size of Texas accruing in the Pacific Ocean. I’m pretty sure these guys are
1980s style aliens, and not the kind Hawking keeps telling us we’re going to
get eaten by. No, these are young aliens who were sent to Earth to study
overweight humans by their planet’s employment commission. They arrived, saw
how boring some of us are, and decided to form a heavy metal band and buy a
van. They’re aliens, so really smart, and they must have just been like, “Lead
guitars are stupid — let’s use a saxophone and party our way across the
United States.” By William Port Whales |
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| Jeremy
Messersmith |
The Reluctant Graveyard
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| Self-released |
| ESM Rating: 7/10 |
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What happens when you cross sunny-day guitar melodies
and upbeat piano jams with lyrics about death, graveyards, and all manner of
other morbid material? You might be expecting something like fingernails
screeching on a chalkboard, but you would be totally wrong.
Jeremy
Messersmith’s new album, The Reluctant Graveyard, has a sound
reminiscent of The Beach Boys or The Beatles that, when combined with Jeremy’s gloomy lyrics, produces a
unique and enjoyable experience that could be called the musical equivalent of
dark humor. Some of the lyrics are more comical and others are more profound,
but Messersmith’s clear, quiet
voice, and infectious melodies make even the more intense messages easy to
digest. And after listening to
most of his songs, the lingering mood is rather cheerful.
The
Reluctant Graveyard is the final
chapter in a trilogy of albums that use music to weave together a story and
present observations about life and death, and some of his songs, like
“Dillinger Eyes,” focus on the tales of villains or heroes, almost giving them
a folk-music kind of feel. Overall, there’s probably only one song on the whole
album that’s straight-up depressing, “John the Determinist,” while all the rest
are actually quite fun. “Knots” is a minimally morbid, almost standard love
song in terms of its lyrics, and its rhythm is so cheery that you can’t help
but jam to it. And “Violet!” is an inspirational feel-good song that definitely
shows its Fab Four influence.
So if you’re sick of hearing the same old stuff on
the radio and you’re looking for something quirky and new, give Jeremy Messersmith’s The Reluctant Graveyard a try. You’re in
for a pleasant surprise. By Allison Arteaga
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| Llamabeats |
Don’t Show This To Anyone Vol. 1: Operation Fade
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| Self-released |
| ESM Rating: 8/10 |
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As far as hip-hop goes, Miami is known more for
coke-rap provocateur Rick Ross and the booming bass subgenre of the ‘80s and
‘90s. But three-man crew Llamabeats are
out to shatter that tough-guy stereotype, one good-natured jam at a time. Most
impressive, Llamabeats members
Master Fader, Spits, and What’s Good? take pride in writing, performing,
producing, and mixing all of their own music, combining understated samples,
jazzy guitars, and old-school bass ‘n’ drum into a tasty all-purpose mix that’s
drawn comparisons to The Pharcyde, A Tribe Called Quest, Bob Marley, and even
NOFX.
“Chaunchy Ass Bass” rides one of those funky guitar
riffs and chews up contemporary influences, allowing Spits’ almost-nasal
delivery to shine. And “Trunk Rattle” combines a catchy chorus, subterranean
clatter, and stark dub percussion, calling to mind Sublime’s inter-genre
mash-up. But “Dust Myself Off” is the banger of Don’t Show This To Anyone, bluesy organs and a nerd-rap delivery
punctuating hilarious lines like “I was feeling like a pimp/So I went to brush
my shoulders off/Walked to the corner store/So I could buy a soda pop.”
Llamabeats bounce through the self-celebration party on “LBC,”
but the highlight of that track is its instrumentation, all staccato horns and
deep-in-the-groove wah-wah guitars. “Night Of The Living Beat” gets a little
eerie thanks to a well-placed cinematic sample and fire-spitting guest spots
from Red October and Parable, while “Grape Jelly” skewers Bob Marley’s classic
“Guava Jelly” over a cool-as-ice drumbeat. And inexplicably, Don’t Show This To Anyone Vol. 1 ends
with the vaguely romantic pop-punk ballad “Soul Music (Tini’s Song),” further
solidifying the eclectic and singular Llamabeats sound. You probably shouldn't show this infectious eight-song EP to anyone
— they might not believe a crew this creative and humorous could ever
come out of Miami’s gritty urban playground. By Nick McGregor |
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| The
Menzingers |
Chamberlain Waits
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| Red Scare |
| ESM Rating: 5/10 |
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Speaking of hating your Dad, from my Prizzy Prizzy
Please review…
There’s a lot of angst in Pennsylvania, and The
Menzingers have tapped into that well. Try and guess what these guys are
pissed about… how about everything? That isn’t to say they aren’t technically
prolific, but we all hate corporations, authorities, posers, financial instability,
and girls who dump us. I just don’t like being reminded that these things exist
by an ensemble that could siphon their talents towards more productive
projects. Maybe one where they remind us that dolphins, rum, lower-back
tattoos, cigars, trampolines, and friends exist too.
Maybe Tom May, Joe Godino, Eric Keen, and Greg
Barnett are channeling the frustrations of Scranton, PA, to a crowd of
enthusiastic comrades right now — and that is perfectly OK. If there
weren’t polar opposites in every medium, we would all be really bored, which is
way worse than angry. On the uplifting spectrum, Chamberlain Waits showcases a cornucopia of talent from the instrumentals of every The Menzingers member. I wouldn’t mind
high-fiving them, but it’s
debatable whether or not The Menzingers would high-five me back. By William Port Whales |
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