CD reviews
MIGOS Culture II
STREAMING music services are tapping nails into the coffin of albums — as if the humble album didn’t already have its back against the wall in these days of music piracy! Atlanta rap trio Migos have delivered a follow-up to their breakthrough album, the 13-song 58-minute long Culture, with an overstuffed, filler-packed monstrosity.
Culture II clocks in at a weighty one hour 45 minutes, with two dozen songs. Gimme a break! Like trash human Chris Brown and Drizzy Drake before them, Migos made an overly long album to game the streaming system. Money and career-wise it’s probably smart. For the listener, it’s a chore. The most annoying thing about this album is that there is a solid album hidden within the mess, but you have to dig for it. There are about six songs that are cool for folks who enjoy bragging rap over hammering 808s. Add to these tunes a few notable collaborations (Cardi B, 21 Savage, Travis Scott, Pharrell, Kanye). Then, round it off with songs where musically the trio expand their typical sub bass and hard kick drums sound palette to include a little Spanish guitar or silky jazz notes. That collection might have been a four-star album. Another issue. Some songs here are straight-up twins with the songs from the last album. Not similar. Not continuations of a theme. I’m talking carbon copies. The “uh, ohh” hook on Deadz and on Open It
Up are exactly the same. It’s so ridiculous it has to have been on purpose. It’s got to be an artistic choice rather than an oversight, doesn’t it? If you are going to do a remake of a song, why not your most popular song? Bad and Boujee Reloaded. Boujee with a Vengeance. 2 Bad 2 Boujee. A Bad Day to Boujee Hard. Beyond the Boujeedome.
NILS FRAHM All Melody
LOW pipe organ notes, echoing footsteps, indecipherable female harmonies, these textures are outside the norm for ambient music guru Nils Frahm. It’s not the sort of thing that will get a mosh pit bouncing or make anyone’s fist pump, but for someone who has created 10 albums of quiet and luscious classical piano and synthesiser experiments, new textures are a novelty. These extra elements on All Melody feel like Frahm has opened up his colour palette, like a black-and-white artist who has recently discovered mauve. There is brass on here, there is the occasional pitter-patter of light drumming, and there are choral singers. It all works a treat. Across a dozen songs and an hour and 14 minutes, Frahm’s music relies on subtlety, restraint, repetition, tension and release, delicate melodic phrases and texture. And from this he elicits an emotional response, most often melancholy. A favourite for my ears is #2, a song that reveals its true colours at a glacial pace. This album is an engrossing listen. The detail is exquisite.