Album Review: The Sound of Science (Jeffrey Zeigler/Golden Hornet)

Review Published in The Austin Chronicle. Read online version here

Cello-led neoclassical arrangements modulated by modern electro grooves, The Sound of Scienceimplores the dystopia of a world led by science deniers. Dexterous cellist formerly of the Kronos Quartet, Jeffrey Zeigler preforms an eight-track project produced by Graham Reynolds and his local chamber music laboratory, Golden Hornet. The two principals enlist renowned composers from around the globe to meld soundscapes inspired by a scientist of their choosing. Opener "The Brain" conveys chaotic neuron firings as Reynolds interprets UT neuroscientist Kristen Harris through a buzzing barrage of cosmic synths, scissoring snares, reverb-gated kicks, and swarming cello reminiscent of Rimsky-Korsakov's "The Flight of the Bumblebee." Tragic strings on Sarah Lipstate's "Radiation in Moderation" paint an isotopic apocalypse inspired by Marie Curie, while Paola Prestini and climatologist Andrew Kruczkiewicz's "From Bones to Fossils" employs meandering strums devolving from life to death in imagining climate change's drowning potential. Earth no longer habitable, Zeigler's ethereal playing on Felipe Pérez Santiago's "Quest" fuels an intergalactic journey interrupted by meteor showers of industrial kicks and space invader statics influenced by astronomer Jill Tarter. If R&B can prime us for love, punk for rebellion, and rock for revolution, The Sound of Science confirms that music can help us cope with and challenge the ongoing attack on scientific fact. Accompanied by methodical visuals, Zeigler plans on completing the entire experience live here at Fusebox Festival in April.

4.5/5

ACL Live Review: Moses Sumney

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

ACL fosters euphoria, but dance parties hardly jibe with a sexual predator on the highest court and global warming hell arriving in 2040. Moses Sumney’s Sunday afternoon set in the Tito’s Tent didn’t so much distract from the existential dread as it exaggerated his own, moving a transfixed festival crowd to tears through vulnerable introspection.

“You could be partying, but you chose to be crying,” pointed out the singer behind Matrix-esque sunglasses and a mystical, all-black, cloaked suit fit for a funeral on Mars.

The Ghana-raised, L.A.-based crooner was right. We could have easily been losing our dome to X Ambassadors or Janelle Monáe, but we chose to wallow in Sumney’s torment because it helped manage that of our own. His melodramatic electro-folk crosses Sufjan Stevens and Björk as it wrestles with his biggest quandary: how to operate as a romantic in a society that conditions your self-worth around fleeting, socially defined emotions such as love.

With the help of a three-piece rhythm section, Sumney drank tea and delivered rare microtonal range with ethereal ease. Gripping the crowd with his vocals and more, he spent an entire verse holding the hand of a mesmerized woman in the front row during his cover of Björk’s “Come to Me.” It’s strange watching someone with such a transcendent voice having to wrestle so much of their own value as demonstrated on abandoned hymn “Lonely World” and the sex-avoidant “Make Out in My Car.”

On “Doomed,” he wondered if being impervious to love renders his life meaningless.

However tragic the ruminations, they proved beautiful by representing a once lost soul finding his path by the grace of his own voice. His croons are so operatic, so vast, so textured, that they implore the multiplicity of the human experience, each note filling love’s void with a chaotic catharsis of fear, hope, comfort, and loss. A loop pedal layering buzzing vibratos behind the singer’s high velvet falsettos only heightened the evocative experience.

Make no mistake, however: Moses Sumney’s natural ability to oscillate between octaves on a whim pitted our stomach, dropped our jaw, and eased our pain.

ACL Live Review: Travis Scott

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

Travis Scott’s music is too sporadic, momentary, and Auto-Tuned to succeed anywhere but within the ephemeral conscious of the smartphone generation. His weekend one closing set on Sunday proved songs are merely the Houston rapper’s overture.

Like metal or punk, Scott’s mystique is only realized in a live setting. The Houston rapper embodies the “La Flame” moniker because his concerts set venues ablaze, inciting more mosh pits, riots, and hysteria with each show. None of this was lost on Juul-ripping Snapchatters who arrived early for Scott’s 8:45pm set. 

They waited for their their god with the cooped-up anticipation of a football team before taking the field. Some stretched, others hyped each other up by giving their friends dead arms and screaming “Travis, Travis, Travis,” as if they really believed Scott could hear them tucked away in his RV. As the appointed hour ticked past with no sign of the MC, questions bristled through an impatient crowd.

“Why even get on the plane after that hypnotic SNL performance last night?” wondered one fan no older than 15.

“Did he not get the memo that Childish Gambino broke his ankle and C3 needed him to play weekend one too?” another asked.

Finally, at 8:55 sharp, stage screens turned black before a cheeky intro asked, “Where in the world, but Astroworld, can you have so much fun?” Scott adored the Houston-area theme park as a kid, and was devastated by its premature closure. His new album takes the park’s title, but like much of his catalog, hovers through a projection of Scott’s memory.

As such, his ACL set brought us through the album’s gold, wide-mouthed cover and into the grounds of his own Astroworld. 

Beginning with the paranoid “Stargazing,” Scott toured his discography’s biggest attractions. From the bone-chilling “Mamacita” to the club conundrum of “No Bystanders,” hits old and new built momentum like the slow crawl to the top of a roller coaster before 808s dropped, smoke and fire shot through the air, and Scott’s rasp brought the crowd to a moshing frenzy. During “Goosebumps,” the rapper brought a high school kid onstage to perform his biggest hit to date. Pubescent vocals radicalized by the mic’s Auto-Tuning, the moment moved the youngster, Scott, and the crowd to reckless abandon.

Astroworld’s theme park trope reflects the ups and downs of Scott’s childhood, but starting 10 minutes late and ending 15 minutes early, the condensed set only made time for the highs. Introspective slow cuts such as “90210” and “Maria I’m Drunk” were left out for more obliterating hits “Sicko Mode” and “Butterfly Effect.” Instead of the roller-coaster ride finishing after its biggest drop, it looped back to free fall again and again.

Set List

“Stargazing”
“Carousel”
“Mamacita”
“Way Back”
“4 AM” (2 Chainz ft. Travis Scott)
“Dark Knight Dummo” (Trippie Redd ft. Travis Scott)
“No Bystanders”
“Butterfly Effect”
“Skyfall”
“Through the Late Night”
“Upper Echelon”
“Skeletons”
“Beibs in the Trap”
“Antidote”
“Goosebumps”
“Sicko Mode”

ACL Live Review: Blood Orange

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

Devonté Hynes’ ACL debut began with a prophecy his Saturday set soon fulfilled.
“We are not limited by biology.
We get to make ourselves.
And we get to make our families.”

The monologue by writer and activist Janet Mock appears on the singer’s recent Negro Swan track, “Family.” As it came to a close, the British multi-instrumentalist took the stage draped in a Blood Orange-branded bandanna and his patented white tank.

Hynes self-describes as sexually fluid and much of his music as Blood Orange reflects the search for refuge in our heteronormative culture. During a Saturday dinnertime slot, he found it on the ACL stage. Free as a kid singing to a hairbrush in the comfort of his room, Hynes commanded the stage with calm confidence as he danced and juggled between instruments.

Thumping 808s on “Saint” livened a crowd battered by the day’s heat, while “Out of Your League” and “Charcoal Baby” had them bobbing like broken bobbleheads to the track’s rubbery funk accents. The Negro Swan cuts set the tone for the 32-year-old Londoner’s set as the bandleader, and a sixpiece ensemble delivered a constant flow of sunny melodies over sparse, dystopian, Eighties dance-pop instrumentals that commingled synth blips with bursts of jazzy horns and lush grand piano and guitar from Hynes.

The mastermind behind these deep textures made sure each member of the ensemble got their close-up. Rhythm sectioners soloed often, and the most impressive vocal performance of the show came from backup singer Ian Isiah during gospel ballad “Holy Will.” He and crooner Eva Tolkin brought depth to Blood Orange’s airy melodies throughout.

The audience didn’t help much except during hits “You’re Not Good Enough” and “Best to You.” In fact, a predominantly white crowd couldn't truly empathize with Hynes’ reflections on the anxieties of the black experience, but his unquestioned self-love and free expression united most into a single Blood Orange family. Those grooves are universal.

ACL Live Review: Brockhampton

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

“It’s all about Brockhampton, fuck friends,” one young Brockhampton setgoer said to another on Friday as the two traded reasons why they were at the Miller Lite stage early and by themselves amongst a sea of hipsters, jersey-wearing frat bros, and high schoolers.

The packed melting pot reflected Brockhampton’s widespread appeal and how their new major label debut Iridescence debuted at No. 1 just a year after the San Marcos group undertook its first national tour.

Opener “New Orleans” saw Dom McLennon first to emerge through a smoke machine haze. As the caffeinating beat built momentum, he rapped into a mistakenly muted mic until it abruptly turned on halfway through his verse, thrusting a bewildered crowd into a riot in the blink of an eye.

Although the 13-song set was the second stop on the I’ll Be There tour for the new release, the energy peaked during the group’s hook-driven hits from last year’s Saturation trilogy of LPs. “Bleach” had the crowd belting its angelic hook a cappella, while “Sweet” moved everyone to beg for honey butter chicken biscuits with UT dropout Merlyn Wood. The blatant mix out of verses from departed MC Ameer Vann felt awkward to a crowd subconsciously expecting them. When “Gummy” skipped Vann’s bombastic verse, murmurs of his absence moved through the audience as others recited the lyrics anyway.

Iridescence resonates with upbeat techno juxtaposed by dark, Auto-Tuned, introspective lyrics. Vulnerable raps on self, sexuality, and mental health capture and spew 2018’s ethos with new pop sensibilities. It helps that Brockhampton’s live show strikes different chords when the group follows up tracks that making you want to mosh with those like “Weight” and “J’ouvert” that pivot on universal insecurities while dancing to British electro.

At just under an hour, the performance flew by in a blistering blur, possible justification for two of Iridescence’s most popular but slower songs, “Tonya” and “San Marcos,” not making the set list. A late-night show tonight at Stubb’s might corral those hits and more for those still clamoring for their favorite boy band.

ACL Fest Set List
“New Orleans”
“Zipper”
“Queer”
“Gummy”
“Star”
“Weight”
“Gold”
“Sweet”
“Honey”
“Bleach”
“J’ouvert”
“Fabric”
“Boogie”

Leon Bridges Comes Home

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

If Leon Bridges’ hypnotic ACL Fest performance in 2015 knocked the audience into a deep coma, you might not have recognized the 29-year-old soul man whose tender croons revived then three years later at the Moody Theater.

“Ya boy really graduated from C-Boys to ACL [Fest] to here?,” Bridges asked himself midway a 90-minute Saturday night set, the first of two sold-out shows at the premiere concert hall.

Besides his dapper getup, a characteristic vintage suit, everything about the Ft. Worth native appeared more in vogue and grandiose than before. His debut album, Coming Home, went gold (sales of 500, 000), but the night’s aesthetic matched that of 2018 follow-up, Good Thing. Bridges’ second album eschews the Sam Cooke and Otis Redding paradigm by trading acoustic Sixties gospel for Seventies/Eighties neo-soul that’s stylized for the dance floor as much the bedroom.

Opening in the spirit of Usher, the singer hopped onstage a bit stiff but charming as ever as he waddled to the uptown funk of “If it Feels Good (It Must Be).” His slicked back hair glistened against a gigantic LED backdrop glowing with his initials. A fivepiece band with two guitarists stood in for the White Denim-leavened backing from the tour three years ago.

A drastic departure from the Coming Home era, the moment felt as if it were packaged for opener Masego’s futurist soul. Taken aback, the crowd failed to match Bridges’ energy until he moved into the jazz-tinged Good Thing single “Bad Bad News.” Ringing against a thumping, bell-bottom groove, the main attraction crooned with the sweet bravado necessary to move an old soul to the dance floor.

Not until Coming Home’s title track did the audience transform from timid listeners to overzealous admirers. Bridges’ effortless and instinctive vocals empowered the house to bellow along and complete the entire second verse for the soul man as he stood raising his mic back at us. That momentum carried into more cuts off Good Thing.

“Georgia to Texas” spawned chills behind a heart-plucking double bass line accentuating Bridges’ nostalgic serenade. “Mrs.” seduced with a sloppy 6/8 kick and cross-snare exchange reminiscent of D’Angelo’s Voodoo. The evening’s only blunder was that of Good Thing itself.

Overproduced, the album sounds like an obvious attempt to mimic the success of Pharell or Bruno Mars. “You Don’t Know” and “Forgive You” washed away the flavor of Bridges’ voice with unneeded electro flair. Even so, Bridges offered a far richer experience than most can with just two albums to their name.

Moments that made you want to dance were as vast as those that made you want to squeeze your squeeze, as many did when he came out for an encore performance of “River.” Similar to his delivery of the Coming Home standout in 2015, Bridges, his guitar, and backup singer Brittni Jessie held the stage alone. Three years ago, he couldn’t meld such a wide range of feeling, style, and emotion.

Say what you will about Good Thing, but live, it elicits an evolved version of Leon Bridges that will carry him to new heights and new stages. The Erwin Center is next.

Bedroom Pop, Comfort for the Sad Unknown

Story published in The Austin Chronicle. Online version here.

This past Friday night at Spider House, Michael Seyer, Bane’s World, and Inner Wave helped define bedroom pop.

A growing genre forming in response to music’s Auto-Tuned quest for infallibility, BP embraces human imperfection with alternative lo-fi soundscapes. Percussion strips Nineties boom-bap down to its core, while vocals sound like they were recorded on an iPhone’s Voice Memos app. Synthesizers ape Fisher Price keyboards from Toys "R" Us.

Steve Lacy and Claire Cottrill (aka Clairo) have become pioneering influences. The latter’s video for dreamy single “Pretty Girl” went viral after the Bostonian made it in bed using Photo Booth. The former’s iPhone-produced beats helped the Internet earn a 2016 Grammy nomination for their album Ego Death.

Both Seyer, from Southern California enclave Gardena, and Bane’s World principal Shane Blanchard of nearby Long Beach write and produce music entirely from their bedrooms. At 19, Seyer made his first album Ugly Boy, a thoughtful R&B meditation on self-discovery, using only GarageBand.

A slow-churning soul instrumental from the now-20-year-old producer and his band greeted a sold-out Spider House crowded with X’d out entry stamps. Staring into a plastic skull dangling from his hand, the experimentalist sang “Bad Bonez,” melting time with his 2018 album title track about confronting sins.

During “I Feel Best When I’m Alone,” Seyer’s vibrato-infested plea for alone time was juxtaposed by a seducing, Barry White-esque matte. Bedroom pop resonates with such young audiences thanks to warm instrumentals alleviating the anxieties of impending adulthood. It’s comfort music for the sad unknown.

One growing critique of the movement centers on its struggle to replicate layered, lo-fi productions onstage. In Austin, Seyer and Bane's World demonstrated the ability to improve their multi-flavored songs with live instrumentation. Blanchard tremolo-picked his way through guitar sections on “Drowsy" and “Stay Away From My Baby,” filling the room with soulful blues reminiscent of Stevie Ray Vaughan’s “Lenny.”

“You Bet I Stare” traversed the young crowd through the Summer of Love and “Drowsy” reinforced Blanchard’s penchant for the blues. This kind of flipping and bending through genres amongst bedroom pop artists derives from the streaming era. Nothing is off-limits because everything is a YouTube lesson away from expertise.

That musical climate makes a multifaceted group like Inner Wave possible. The L.A. crew capped the night with a Latin concoction of garage rock, psychedelia, and soul. The sunny surf rock of “American Spirits” returned the crowd to reality after the dream world of Seyer and Bane's World, who joined Inner Wave for a closing cover of “Creep” that came across as warmly as a group of friends gathered around the TV to play the Radiohead track on Rock Band.

The show’s contrast in styles and attitude showcased bedroom pop as less of a style of music and more so a reflection of a generation of like-minded artists with a DIY emphasis on song making. The common thread is a general desire to make music that looks, feels, and acts like those actually listening to it.

As tech languishes humanity, bedroom pop steals it back.