Review of Crush’s “wonderlost” EP

After hinting at a new album and teasing fans with single “Bittersweet,” Crush returns with his “wonderlost” EP. The album is something of an extension of Crush’s more traditional EP of similar name, 2016’s “wonderlust.” This time around, he’s delved into genres that have splintered from jazz’s foundations. Namely, he explores the intricacies of R&B, neo-soul, New Jack Swing, and electronica. He dips into their confines to highlight some of the nuances that may go unnoticed by casual listeners. Let me just say, whenever Crush decides to play we’re all in for one hell of a ride.

Chill

“Chill” is deceptively simple. The song opens on what most would recognize as modern-day house-infused R&B. However, ladies and gentlemen, get ready to take notes. Crush is about to give us a musical history lesson. First stop, electro. As the song progresses, he explores R&B’s transition from its more bluesy origins to the experimentation of the ’80s. Electro is a genre that found its mainstream origins in the breakbeats of early hip-hop (from the likes of Afrika Bambaataa and JJ Fad). The laid-back construction, emphasized by heavy use of the 808 drum machine, acts as concrete aural imagery. It perfectly embodies “chilling” after a night of our protagonist overextending himself. It’s like a throbbing headache. The boom bap of the club pulsates behind his eyes as he attempts to bring himself back to life, back to reality. (Two points if you get the reference).

Sik-K’s delivery is like a slice to Crush’s peace, a reminder of the previous night’s escapades. His is a sharp delivery that when coupled with the bounce of the music serves as a throbbing memory. The aggressive energy interrupts Crush’s attempts to will away a nasty hangover. It’s no wonder he’s content to just chill for the day. Let the world go by softly and allow the body to rest.

ENDORPHIN

From the electro-inspired opening track, we get the bossa-infused “ENDORPHIN.” It’s fitting that he enlists Brazilian jazz to illustrate the euphoric feeling of a rush of endorphins–especially considering the day he needed to recuperate. Crush emphasizing that this type of high is “so natural” indicates that he not only is a clever musician. He’s also an agile storyteller.

Crush is alarmingly bright. His ability to match overall message to musical composition is staggering. It’s testament to a history with music that many take for granted. Endorphins are the body’s natural reaction to any sort of pain. They numb the sensors, allowing a person–say someone suffering a nasty hangover–to recuperate without all the fuss of extra pain. Conversely, bossa nova is a genre very much rooted in nature. It’s Brazil’s answer to American jazz, a combination of traditional construction and the country’s connection to nature. (The heavy use of acoustic guitar and woodwinds rounds out the sound.)

His brothers in fanxychild (PENOMECO) and clube$kimo (punchnello) add texture to a smooth musical landscape, craggy mountains where there’s mostly soft ground. PENOMECO himself is a competent vocalist. The sharp spires in his voice even out to an engaging high tenor that weaves effortlessly between the higher notes of the music. punchnello offers the perfect foil to the surrounding elements: Crush and PENOMECO’s softer tones and the breezy curl of the music. His tone and delivery are matched by an R&B breakdown that slots easily into the groove of the overall piece. Meanwhile, if one leans in ever so slightly, they’ll notice a gorgeous three-part harmony subtly props the melody up.

Cereal

Crush has always been a master of the double entendre, finding ways to manipulate the curve of a word and give it layers of meaning and connotation. (Listen to “Hug Me.” I dare you to act like that’s not a loaded directive!) “Cereal” is no exception. The overall composition is an intriguing combination of New Jack Swing drum patterns and neo-soul melodies, However, the bend and shape of the sound brings to mind the juvenile playfulness of commercials for, what else, children’s cereal. It’s bright, almost too sweet to be full of anything but sugar and empty carbs. However, lyrically it’s damn smart.

He makes reference to the Wi-Fi (the “serial number”), claiming to want to make a connection with his love interest. From there we move swiftly from finding out the Wi-Fi passcode to the morning after. He speaks of having the energy of a tiger (giving Frosted Flakes a new image). Meanwhile, ZICO gives us specifics, detailing the scenario like he’s painting a picture. He frames each moment spent lazing about in bed with his significant other around whether they actually make it out of the boudoir for breakfast.

But in a twist of perhaps self-doubt, Crush proclaims “she’s real.” The curl of the sentiment is a sort of corruption of the song’s title. There’s an element of dreaminess. It’s as if all of this is a fantasy of the perfect life between him and someone he’s developed a romantic fascination for. Taking into consideration the music video, perhaps there’s some desperation there. He wants to believe these happy mornings spent together really mean something. The jackets in the MV could represent the divestment of clothes the night before. (Notice how they lay rumpled on the floor at the video’s opening.) However, they could also hint at a phantom at the edge of Crush’s peripheral vision. Ghosts of what he hopes to cultivate with someone he may consider just out of reach.

Close Your Eyes

While “Cereal” dealt with the fanciful, “Close Your Eyes” is more solid. It’s interesting in terms of album order. This command comes directly after a song that deals very much in daydreams. The act of closing one’s eyes allows them pause to collect themselves, their thoughts. It’s a means to turn the world to rights and put everything back into focus.

In this case the significant other is actually real. Hoody acts as a concrete anchor to the here and now. The use of the drum machine in this song is just delicious. From the simple 808 foundation to the bare bones breakdown at the chorus, everything about “Close Your Eyes” is a master class in the fundamentals of music. Again, something tangible, concrete.

I’m more impressed with Crush’s vocal delivery here than I think I’ve ever been. Particularly at the song’s closing improvisation. “Close Your Eyes” is heavily influenced by neo-soul. Herein lay his brilliance. Throughout the song he breaks the genre down to its essential elements: R&B, jazz, and soul. The emotional core of the piece is very obviously R&B. But the backbone of the track is heavily influenced by contemporary jazz. The song’s closing moments lead with a Take 6-inspired melodic vamp, Crush enlisting a bit of vocal gymnastics. He then shares his take on the traditional scat (vocal improvisation with no set pattern that singers use to mimic spontaneous instrumental riffs). Not only does Crush handle it like an old pro, the added traditional dimension moves it beyond a modern interpretation of soul music and into a collaboration between genres.

Crush has broken down neo-soul’s elements only to rebuild them and create the genre in his own image. He’s given physical form to the adage “study the greats and become greater.”

RYO

I knew without listening to it that “RYO” was going to by favorite track. My adoration for all things jazz, soul, and R&B only slightly supersedes my absolute addiction to good electronica and House music. CIFIKA has become my favorite electronica artist in the past couple years. But more on her later.

As an acronym for both “R You On” and “R You Okay,” “RYO” gives Crush a chance to go back to his beginnings as a rapper. (He literally spits on the microphone.) The track is all piss and vinegar, with a bit of rose water sprinkled in to soothe the sting. It’s a scathing criticism of the K-pop industry “borrowing” bits of genres that are still somewhat on the outskirts of Korea’s mainstream periphery–particularly electronica, R&B, and hip-hop in their purest forms–and using those parts they deem most marketable for mainstream notoriety.

Many artists tout the sudden globalization of K-pop for casting light on Korean music. But the country’s history with music isn’t a new phenomenon. Crush and Byung Un offer a counter-perspective to the alleged blessing K-pop is for its lesser known musical predecessors. Crush bites out, “Why do you always want me to be fluffy? Life isn’t beautiful, and I’m not your cutie pie.” Blatant commentary on a fan culture that demands certain behavioral norms of “their” idols while almost completely disregarding the artistic merits.

CIFIKA’s voice soothes the bite. While “RYO” is grimy and almost accusatory, stewing beneath the venom is a desire to have the success of their peers in pop. It’s a fact they have to begrudgingly admit to, even if it is through gritted teeth. (“Yes, I do wanna be like her.”) CIFIKA’s angelic touch peels back some of the bitterness to reveal the heart of the matter. Many artists fight between wanting the notoriety of some of their more popular contemporaries and maintaining the integrity of someone not beholden to mainstream whims.

“You act like you’re individual when you’re just a part of us,” she accuses. One has to ask, who is “you” and who is “us”? Is this a criticism of artists and labels who take the most palatable aspects of fringe genres (like electronica, like R&B, fundamental hip-hop)? Or is this a form of self-flagellation? A shredding of self for pretending to be unique when in all actuality they’re still part of the same system, the same trends they so desperately try to separate themselves from? In the same breath that Crush and Byung Un snarl “what ‘r’ you on today?”–as if challenging the listener to admit to hopping onto one of a slew of genre bandwagons–they ask “‘r’ you okay?” But one has to wonder if that’s more a question reserved for massaging a bruised ego.

Conclusion: wonderlost

What I absolutely adore about “wonderlost” is that it showcases the natural progression of genres that have made a resurgence. From electro, to ’90s dance–an amalgamation of New Jack Swing and Disco–to the new-age electronica that’s seen a jolt of energy over the last few years, FKA Twigs and, of course, Bjӧrk leading the charge.

At the end of the day that’s what “wonderlost” seems to be: tough commentary on how the state of music is temperamental and often goes through flux. But at the same time it’s introspective, the hero of this tale lost on his own journey through music’s many avenues.

With this latest EP, Crush masterfully navigates through an interesting perspective on loss. Some of the wonder of the genres that shaped him has been lost. However, melding and bending genres the way he does, their original constructions have been lost in lieu of bringing some of that wonder–the parts corrupted by a need for popularity–back.

 

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Edited by Lena