Trying to differentiate yourself
from your parents is no easy task. Odds are at some point in late
childhood/early adulthood you're struck with a desire to do something they
never did. If you grew up in a family of police officers, maybe you want to be
a lawyer. Parents were doctors? Your job might be as far removed from the
medical profession as possible. Seeking this kind of separation isn't
necessarily a spiteful act, few people want to live their lives in the shadow
of their parents and the best way to "escape" is to seek a distinctive
profession. Even tougher than going your own way though is embracing the same occupation.
Unless you figure out a way to differentiate yourself from your parents, you'll
always be compared to them because of the job you've chosen.
That's the precarious position
twin sisters Lisa-Kaindé and Naomi Díazof Ibeyi (ee-bey-ee) find
themselves in. As the children of deceased Cuban percussionist/Buena
Vista Social Club member AngaDíaz, the music the 19-year-olds create is influenced by their legendary
conga playing father. At least on the surface. New track "River" from
their Oya
EP is marked by impeccably timed blasts of bass-heavy drum from XL
Recordings head/producer Richard Russell. In a tribute to Cuba's rich but troubled
multicultural past the twins spend the final moments of "River"
singing in Yoruban, a West African language that arrived on Cuba's shores in
the late 1700s. They're not completely their father's children though;
Lisa-Kaindé and Naomi's vocal styles are more in line with modern indie
R&B/soul than any "traditional" island sound. "My ego and my
blame let me baptize my soul with the help of your waters," they
breathlessly croon as background vocals moan and mechanical fingers snap in
approval. "River" is proof the Díaz sisters can mine their father’s
past without taking everything.
Reading Lia Ices' description
of her third LP Ices, someone could draw the conclusion that the Hudson
Valley artist is a tUnE-yArDs
derivative. A solo artist who trades in "Persian percussion, hip-hop
beats, lo-fi, hi-fi, Pakistani pop, Link Wray, Jason Pierce, gospel, dub,"
practically screams Merrill Garbus' band moniker from the highest rooftop.
Screaming and shouting though are actions reserved for Garbus, whose most indelible tracks
tend to leave her voice ragged. Her vocals aren't a component of the songs, but
the main feature.
Ices' vocals meanwhile tend to
bleed into the background. On captivating first single "Thousand
Eyes" they're indecipherable to a casual listener; buried underneath
fragments of sitar, gingerly strummed guitar, clopping drums, and an ocean of
reverb. If the futuristic tribalism vibe she's trying to conjure isn't clear
from the music, a sharp ear can hear her mention "astronauts" and
"fire" with equal amounts of awe. Ultimately that's what
"Thousand Eyes" is all about, being able to find the magic in
everything from the moss that grows on a stone to the plummeting canyons of
Mars. "For the first time, Lia Ices felt like an inclusive project with
its own identity, not just a name," Ices writes in the aforementioned
press release. With something so warm and inviting, everyone should feel
included.
Seeing the cover for former Books singer
Nick Zammuto's second LP Anchor and hearing lead single "Great
Equator", there isn't much of a disparity. While cuts from his first LPZammuto
were fluorescent and full of vitality, "Great Equator" is drab
and moves at a beautifully glacial pace. So much so that if the above image of
a snowlocked cabin didn't exist, the listener would invent it anyway.
Not that speed is the sole thing
separating "Great Equator" from some of Zammuto's past highlights.
The 8-bit synthesizer featured on the effort doesn't fill up the landscape, but
dots the outer edges. Every bleep or bloop is like a featherweight shoe-print
encircling the humming guitar and rippling effects that fill up the center.
Each rumble is the "bad vibration" Zammuto faintly sings of,
"shaking coins across the table." Which is precisely the kind of
cryptic imagery on display in "Great Equator". Gravity is "a
theory in need of some revisions" and Zammuto fails in his attempt to hold
life's massive reins with "paper hands." It's easy to speculate he's
eulogizing the end of a romance with the opener "oh my love, it's been
more than fun," but he could just be acknowledging past highlights. Similar
to the music's bio-mechanical pacing, Zammuto's words have the air of humanity
without its messiest emotions.
Anchor drops September 2 through Temporary Residence and you can find the tracklist below.
