LATE LEE has had to unfold himself out of a lot of self-doubt and feelings of being mentally lost. He’s taken long-term breaks from social media to try to find his center on more than one occasion. Out of that exploration and journey to inner peace, he gifted fans his most poignant work to date. His second EP, “12AM.”
V1NO Explores Emotional Emptiness in “Runaway”
It’s truly a blessing to discover new talent. Particularly when they’ve worked so hard through so much to be able to share those talents with the world. Thus we have Paul Shin, now known by the stage name V1NO. This young man has had a life you wouldn’t believe. (But we’ll get more into that in our interview.) Last year he began to pursue his music in earnest. With that came the release of the music video for his song “Runaway.”
G.Soul Reborn from Grief as Golden in “Hate Everything”
It’s been a long two years since G.Soul enlisted. Fans of the honey-voiced singer were elated when he was finally discharged, promising new music upon his return. Almost as soon as he became a civilian again, he signed with Jay Park’s H1GHR Music and changed his stage name to something many would consider more apropos: Golden.
“Darker Liquor” by Flannel Albert: Of Vice & Men
I can’t begin to fathom the depths of Flannel Albert. Never mind I’ve known him for a few years now. The man has an emotional depth that most, including myself, have yet to even scratch the surface of. By now it’s common knowledge that he’s a remarkable writer. He’s mastered the art of false perception. Behind the playful composition and lilt of his melodic rap style, he buries some of the deepest parts of who he is. The darker parts of his melancholy.
It’s subtle, his ability to weave personal struggle among the deceptive cheer. Except when it’s not. Except when he wants you to get his point from the start. As with his latest single, “Darker Liquor.”
An Artist Exposed
I have to say, one of the greatest gifts an artist can give us is their honesty. It could be argued that their art is the truest expression of themselves. However, sometimes art is just art with nothing but the intent to create behind it. When an artist cracks him or herself open, exposes the blood and bone, that’s when they’re at their boldest. Their vulnerability speaks of immense strength and a courage most of us only deign to attempt. With “Darker Liquor,” Albert’s stripped away most of the facade. What we see here is the raw meat of the man.
Let me tell you something, when Albert wants to make a point, he doesn’t beat around the bush. He opts for a kick in the teeth rather than a sucker punch. “Darker Liquor” ain’t subtle. This is a song about the things we turn to when in the midst of a hard reality. A mean memory. A never-ending list of what-ifs and should-have-beens. Albert tells the story about the vices we wrap around ourselves when we’d rather run away than face the pain. He did later admit that liquor isn’t exactly his poison. But make no mistake there’s poison in the mind and spirit when you create something like this.
Lyrical Master
Lyrically, Albert opts for the totally uncomplicated. I’ll continue to sing the praises of this man’s pen. No matter his status in the annals of rap itself, he’s certainly cemented himself in my mind as one of the game’s best storytellers. Yes, even in a song that’s pretty straightforward, he manages to weave his signature wordplay in some truly breathtaking ways (e.g. “The fact is, self-control, you know I lack it. I want you wrapped around my body like my jacket that’s still in your closet hangin’ up like our phone calls”).
But he doesn’t leave you guessing where his heart is at this moment. Doesn’t want you questioning if the song’s about one thing or another. Even his selection in the type of dark liquor he’s found solace in (“Southern Comfort imprint in my cup”), the reference is obvious. There are no punchlines. Only lines that punch you in the gut.
Nowhere to Hide
While he’s still melodic in his delivery, there’s nowhere else for him to hide here. Visually, the “Darker Liquor” is as open as Albert himself. The video opens in a desert. Then once we’re past the actual introduction of the hook, we’re thrown in a cavernous room, Albert first coughing up, then seeping in the dregs of a liquor bottle. A void where only his self-deprecation and the hot stench of a hangover waft around him.
In just two choices of setting, we as viewers are thrown into the maddening isolation of dealing with our demons. More specifically the heartache of knowing the reason we’re here in the first place is our fault.
The genius of the “Darker Liquor” visual is purely setting. What could be more obvious than the barren and cracked earth of the desert? Out in the wilderness, nothing to protect you but your own thirst and need to survive. The heat is oppressive during the day like the hot breath of accusations (from a lover, a friend, family… yourself).
At night it’s chilly, lonely, painfully dark. The silence is more deafening than any wall of sound. The incessant echo of guilt, self-loathing. Memories of something you once had that you let get away from you. The night is long enough for you to ache. So you reach out, hoping for a reprieve. Your hand graces the ice cold of a liquor bottle (a pipe, a nameless companion) and for another eight hours you’ve managed to ignore the pain instead of face it. Just one more night.
In the Void…
Then you wake up in a cavernous hall. One more night turned into two, turned into twenty. Now you’re here. Nowhere to hide. You can’t see the walls, but somehow they still manage to close in on you. This is the spiral you’ve driven yourself into. An endless room of nothing. A single spotlight incessantly beaming down on you as if the universe itself is pointing its finger at you. Accusing you. Judging you.
You look down to the pool of weariness and pity you just crawled from. Then you reach into your pocket. A flask. You don’t need much. Just enough to keep the voices back a little while longer. (What did DEAN say? “In the void I can’t be sober.”) Yet all you can retrieve from your tin savior are a few drops. So what now?
해장: A Choice
You’re in a spiral. A psychedelic whirlwind of bleeding neon lights and poor decisions. All because you were looking for an escape. We have two choices: keep running or face ourselves.
We last see Albert surrounded by the lights (a sort of makeshift prison of standing floor lights). There are no bars here. The lights are widely spaced apart. He could walk out if he truly wanted to. That desert he was in was his mind tormenting him. His own guilt telling him he had no way out. But in the end, he’s made his decision. He pours out that SoCo imprint and drops the bottle. It silently crashes to the ground as the song ends. No more desert. No more endless void. As the standing lights look on like a jury of his peers, he realizes once he lets that bottle break he’s free to go. And he does.
The Mind of Flannel Albert
Seems Albert’s penchant for story has extended to his visual style. He did, after all, direct the video. While photographer Vuzoku provided editing and DP work, this all came from the mind of Albert himself. “Darker Liquor” is an incredible piece of art. Again, Albert burying the emotionally complex within something that on its surface is really quite simple and straightforward. If this is any indication, we have much to look forward to from Flannel Albert in 2020.
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Crush’s “From Midnight to Sunrise” is an Aural Masterpiece
Let me just get something out of the way. I got a song and a half into Crush’s latest album and was on the verge of tears. The last time this happened I was at uni. I’d just heard Jeff Buckley for the first time. After getting over the injustice of him having passed away before I discovered him, listening to Grace ripped something in me that’s never been repaired. Dammit, if Crush didn’t widen the crag with From Midnight to Sunrise.
Samuel Seo’s “The Misfit” is a Work of Art
This man just doesn’t know how to make a bad album. It’s like he’s physically incapable of doing so. It makes sense. Samuel Seo doesn’t release work every three months. He takes his time to develop, learn, nurture his sound. It’s obvious in the way he’s crafted The Misfit.
Inspiration vs. Imitation
I will say this. Samuel Seo knows his music. He thrives in the nuance of ’90s R&B and it shows. The risk for artists who derive much of their influence from others is their own voice gets lost. What we get is music that, while good in and of itself, is little more than imitation. Good music that’s good because, well, we’ve heard it before. For a few moments Seo runs into that exact issue. D’angelo is heavy in his sound for The Misfit. In fact, the first two tracks on the album (“Breathe,” “Misfit’s Anthem”) are very similar in style, tone, and delivery to the opening notes of D’angelo’s Black Messiah (“Ain’t That Easy”) and Voodoo’s “Devil’s Pie,” respectively. Dangerously similar.
Tracks “Yeonhui-Dong” and “Olive Session” reach a little further back and take influence from D’s Brown Sugar. I applaud Samuel for his dedication to a genre that he obviously has a great deal of love and respect for. However, I’d caution any artist to be very careful when excavating the discography of legends.
Something Borrowed, Something New
All that in mind, I can’t begrudge the talented musician his affections for the genre. Warnings and even hesitancy aside, from third track “Notting Hill” on, Seo showcases just how versatile his voice is. Not so much the tone or technicality in his singing. Rather, he has a mind for melody. Harmonies that are tightly packed but still have an unimaginable amount of air in the notes.
Even in tracks that have noticeable familiarity, he carries his own groove. A natural bounce and sway to the music that manages to distinguish itself from its influences enough to identify as something uniquely Samuel Seo. “Notting Hill” in and of itself grabs from samba, bits of bossa nova, and undeniable nods to West Coast jazz. (He throws in a few seconds of psychedelic soul at the end for good measure.) An amalgamation of sounds that results in one of the album’s most mystical and technically intricate tracks.
We get songs like “Ice Cube” and “Coastal Wave” that showcase Seo’s relaxed interpretation of neo-soul. Again, while his influences are overt, he manages to inject every ounce of his personality and maintain the aural aesthetic of the jazz-infused R&B subgenre.
From the Soul
What’s most interesting about the way he delivers his music is just how close to its soul roots it is. This is what makes him one of the most consistently good artists to come out of South Korea. His delivery, execution, the way he interprets the music is so genuine. There are moments when he can’t really shake the spectre of his influences. However, even then an observant listener will recognize a man using his voice to pay homage, not imitate.
This results in some honest-to-goodness soul music, separate from nods to his influences. Track “Really That” is a legitimate addition to the genre’s very specific canon. While track “8 8 3” takes the genre and adds a layer. Nods to, of course, D’angelo, but even Tom Browne with the bassline and US3 with the jazz-heavy aesthetic. Not just a nod to R&B. An addition to the conversation. He takes the historical significance of Soul music and adds relevance. Not an imitation. A sound that’s nuanced and personal.
The World According to Samuel Seo
Beginning with the lamenting “Something & Nothing,” the latter half of the album explodes into something more openly emotion driven. This is Samuel Seo in relation to the world around him. While reminiscing about his own evolution as a man, he questions the environment that molded his past. “Something & Nothing,” “Really That,” and “Good Morning” see him reaching inside for inspiration. The overall aesthetic even takes a subtle change. “Good Morning” borrows some of the beat-heavy R&B of Anderson .Paak a la Malibu. Using a combination of West Coast old soul and storytelling that goes further to define Seo’s artistry.
We then come to track “Playaplayaplaya.” The song that most epitomizes the Samuel Seo sound. It’s the jazz-forward R&B/Soul that has defined his aesthetic since Frameworks. Bits of Raphael Saadiq. Heavy on the Soulquarians in musical composition. But there’s just something unique to Samuel Seo in the delivery. He’s never hurried. Never insistent upon himself as a vocalist. The focal point is the feeling. The groove. How the music gets into you and causes you to bob your head, sway to his smooth cadence. All the while integrating very poignant lyricism.
His desire to peel back some of the harsher realities of South Korea’s society is as effortless as the way he incorporates genuine soul into his brand of Soul music. “Ordinary Kids” is his commentary on the strict (many would say overbearing) educational expectations that define much of the country’s backbone. It’s also the most English we hear him use. There’s an almost biting desperation for every listener to sympathize with him. He makes liberal use of repetition. Not redundancy, but reiteration to force the listener to really pay attention. He ends the song a cappella on the same resounding sentiment: “Dreams are born in the streets, no school.”
Emotional Core
Undercutting the entire album is this emotional core. Something that resonates without the listener actually realizing it. It sneaks in through tracks with more of a focus on the overall groove. With the final tracks, specifically “Yi Yu” and “The Misfit,” there’s an urgency to the tone. Something that drastically deters from the overall mellow mood of the rest of the album. You can sense Seo reaching deep into himself to pull out his truth.
In “Yi Yu,” he proclaims, “We all have a reason to live” on an elongated note that resonates even as the song spirals back into lilting instrumentation. “The Misfit” shows him reflective. A man looking back on his journey to this point and acknowledging the need to float away from the expectations of society and even himself. His voice stretches a bit further. He soars on the higher parts of his tenor, voice breaking in an emotional crack at the highest note’s crest. For the first time he deliberately makes use of vibrato. He’s quite literally taken flight, giving his voice the wings to “sail away.”
Conclusion
There’s so much brilliance to glean from The Misfit. Indeed, Seo has certainly proclaimed himself as something of an outsider in a market saturated with R&B crooners. For what it’s worth, that’s not exactly a bad thing. His music sets itself apart because it’s so very meticulous. The Misfit is a work of art. Plain and simple. A relevant piece of R&B-Soul that gets more interesting with every listen.
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Jackson Wang’s “Raw, Authentic Self”: “TITANIC” Review & Interview
“[Rich] Brian and I joined forces to make the best track to vibe out to with ‘Titanic.’ This song is all about getting hype, dancing, and having fun. I’m proud that we are representing Asian cultures together with this collaboration.”
–HiphopKR interview with Jackson Wang
DIRTY LAUNDRY Need Love in “Front & Center”
FLANNEL ALBERT and Filthy The Kid return with an LL Cool J style love lament. “Front & Center” is the love song we didn’t know we needed.
Crush & the Art of the Flex: “NAPPA” Double Single
When Crush released the double single “NAPPA” at the end of August, it was definitely a reminder of why he’s the best in the game.
Crush Flexing on Everyone
There’s something frighteningly brilliant about the way Crush can seemingly express so much with so little. His recent release of single “album” “NAPPA” is testament to his unwavering dedication to finding ways to expand his craft. He does so in the rudest flex I’ve seen this year from a Korean artist. Considering how saturated both the R&B and hip-hop scenes have become, that’s one hell of a claim for a two-song release.
“NAPPA” as a song is a microcosm of everything that Crush stands for musically. For the past couple years he’s made it his mission to find out all the ways in which R&B and its older brother jazz intersect. We saw it in 2016’s “Wonderlust” EP, in singles like 2017’s “Summer Love.” Perhaps the most acute example of this was last year’s “none,” in which he parsed the barest nuances of contemporary R&B and spliced them with traditional jazz vocal conventions.
However, “NAPPA” blends the Brazilian jazz of bossa nova (a genre he’s more in love with lately) with an 808. With the combo he creates something both fresh and classic. It’s this ability to play with the very old and the very new that speaks to both his training as a jazz technician and his natural musical curiosity. He’s quite literally a student of music. He takes what he’s learned and creates work that slots effortlessly in the trained precision of jazz and the classic emotion of R&B.
Nothing more exemplifies this connection to R&B’s emotional core than track “Lookin 4.” There are layers to the song’s musical elegance. Crush does something I’ve been waiting for from South Korea. He actually explores the particular uniqueness of neo-soul. The sub-genre in and of itself is an amalgamation of various traditions in Black music. (Starting with the chord progressions of jazz and ending on the urban grittiness of hip-hop at its edges.)
His vocal performance here is full of so much soul I was hysterical by song’s end. Both emotionally compromised and stricken with an overwhelming urge to laugh out loud. It’s a vocal performance that goes back to the ease and grace of Musiq Soulchild at his peak. Of the late Tony Thompson, lead singer of early-’90s R&B group Hi-Five. Effortless. Full of dimension and depth.
All this, and we haven’t even touched his choice of collaborators. Quite frankly, I should stop acting surprised whenever Crush shows the breadth of his musical vocabulary. Joyce Wrice isn’t the most widely known R&B vocalist in this day and age where they really are a dime a dozen. In an era of H.E.R., SZA, and full-bodied vocalists like Lizzo and Deva Mahal, Ms. Wrice’s is a voice that might get lost in the fray.
However, she has this subtle elegance in the way she delivers each note. Every single time she stretches her voice into the ether, the note she needs is right there. Her tone is undeniable. Smooth. Sultry. Wrapped in a precision worthy of adoration. I’ve been a fan of hers for so long. Realizing that Crush has also found her vocal charms irresistible doesn’t shock me. But the knowledge that she’s on his radar does fascinate and surprise me.
Crush also sought the undeniable production and understated vocal prowess of Devin Morrison. This man’s entire vibe is steeped so intrinsically in the grooves of neo-soul you might think he’s from a different decade altogether. There’s warmth, maturity, control, and incredible depth in his tone. A voice that allows listeners to time travel.
These elements combined create a song that transports true lovers of R&B and its subsets. Jettisons them to a time when the genre stood for something pure and honest. Lyrically “Lookin 4” might not exactly be anything remarkable. But the essence of the song resonates so deeply within me that every listen is an adventure.
Crush’s Playground
Just like the “Interlude” EP before it, Crush used “NAPPA” to make a point. “I do this.” There are instances when he just takes a moment to play around. To truly flex his musical muscles and deliver a purely cerebral experience. Honestly, “NAPPA” just sounds like he sat down at the keyboard one day and pondered the ways he could upstage the entire Korean R&B scene. When he chose a direction, he cracked his knuckles and got down to business.
We are truly blessed Crush is so willing to share his machinations with us. Music is his playground. I’m honored he invited us to play on the jungle gym and merry-go-round with him.
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The Vocal Genius of DEAN: “Howlin’ 404” Acoustic
When DEAN unexpectedly dropped the acoustic version of “Howlin’ 404,” he reintroduced fans to the power and subtle genius of his voice.