Kokoroko, “Three Piece Suit” (feat. Azekel) (Brownswood Recordings)

Every day, I sift through the hundreds of tracks that bombard my inbox. On a biweekly basis, I will discuss two artists whose music most impressed me. This time it's sweet Afrobeat/R&B/jazz fusionists Kokoroko and Seattle synth-rock eccentric Jealous Yellow.

London octet Kokoroko draw on the rhythmic elements of Afrobeat as established by Fela Kuti, Tony Allen, etc., but they have a "good-vibes-only" ethos that diverges from Kuti's often confrontational thrust. Kokoroko's October 23 performance at the Crocodile revealed a musically proficient group who sounded more like a polished, loved-up R&B/neo-soul ensemble than a bunch of jammers trying to get people to dance—although that did occasionally happen. Suave balladry dominated the set, with sweetly soulful vocals by tour trombonist Noushy Nanguy; it was less rugged Afrobeat propulsion and more mellow jazz (e)motion and Lijadu Sisters-like mellifluousness. (Shout out to Yohan Kebede's keyboards, which sparkled like peak-era Lonnie Liston Smith's.) It's safe to say that a lot of people left the show primed to copulate.

Led by trumpeter/vocalist Sheila Maurice-Grey, Kokoroko are touring in support of the Get the Message EP, out November 1. Opener "Higher" could serve as Kokoroko's mission statement, as devotional chants of "Higher, we go higher" entrance you while Duane Atherley's bass probes with dubwise pressure and the horn section—including saxophonist Cassie Kinoshi and trombonist Richie SeivWright—projects a triumphant boldness. "My Prayer" is a spectral, blissful ballad that would segue well into Cymande's "One More" or Stevie Wonder's "Send One Your Love."  

The EP's first single, "Three Piece Suit," finds Atherley, drummer Ayo Salawu, and percussionist Onome Edgeworth locking into a mesmerizing groove while guest vocalist Azekel (who's worked with Massive Attack and Gorillaz) falsettos à la serpentwithfeet about his experience as a Nigerian immigrant in the UK. In the press notes, Azekel said, "The song is about coming back, letting go and realizing that all things, past, present and future are intertwined." Guitarist Tobi Adenaike doodles on the margins with delicate beauty and the horns and backing vocalists emit radiant gusts of affirmation. Kokoroko take the world in a loving embrace, softening even the hardest hearts. 

Already chart-dwellers in the UK, Kokoroko seem poised to gain major traction in the US, if the Crocodile crowd's enthusiasm is any indication.

Jealous Yellow, “Let's Lay an Egg” (Erste Theke Tonträger)

Seattle teems with rock musicians, but how many of them are true eccentrics? How many of them claim influences as diverse and quirky as XTC, Television, Grauzone, D.A.F., Cleaners From Venus, the Chameleons, and Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark? A minuscule percentage, to be sure. Count Jealous Yellow (aka Benjamin Rea) as a member of this exclusive demographic, in which I would include Justin Gallego (J.R.C.G.), TERMINATor, and Matthew Ford (Dreamsalon, Idol Ko Si, Yves/Son/Ace, etc.).

Rea came to my attention through his performance with Laminate, who opened for Sub Pop artist Deeper at Madame Lou's in 2023. (He also plays with the bands Diirt, Reverse Death, and Soda Gumball.) Laminate rock clangorously and jaggedly in the vein of Sonic Youth and Unwound. With his Jealous Yellow project, though, Rea veers into more electronic avenues (see those D.A.F./Grauzone/OMD references above) while still keeping one foot in the rock camp on sophomore album Czech Vampires —allegedly "conceived in a plague-ridden hostel off of Krymská street in Prague, District 10." For this release, he received musical help from Erica Hauter, Liam Downey, Miles Fox, Alfredo Arnaiz Sibila, Tyko Say, and Francie Moon.

Czech Vampires' genesis occurred in the Czech Republic, where Rea came down with COVID in 2021 while touring his debut record, Sugarweeper. He had to quarantine in Prague, an experience that influenced the new album. Using portastudios and tape machines, Rea turned his studio apartment into a recording studio. 

On songs such as "Pop Fiction!" and "Sweat Out Yr Good Clothes," Jealous Yellow forges edgy electronics-enhanced rock that would appeal to LCD Soundsystem fans. The swift, cantankerous synth rock of "Purple Crayon" recalls Chrome's sonic chaos and robotic rhythmic torque. Bursting with surprising tempo changes and bizarre timbres, the swerving post-punk of "Dirty Hand" rocks, but not like you expect it to, and that's refreshing. 

But the further Jealous Yellow deviates from rock, the more interesting his songs become. He comes into his own on "Baker's Dozen," whose urgent synth punk owes a debt to early D.A.F. and Suicide. The off-kilter electro-fuckery of "Sticky Plate/Tired of Being Good" motors on a fantastically warped synth riff and what might be striated guitar filigree, until things shift into a wonderfully moody and cathartic coda that's as disorienting as Dinosaur Jr.'s "Poledo." "King Crow" is like if Big Black were in thrall to Fad Gadget or the Normal. The title track's grotesquely mutated, synth-heavy funk that's as twisted as pre-Q: Are We Not Men? Devo.  

Czech Vampires reaches a sick peak on "Let's Lay an Egg." Its madly bleeping synths seem to be laced with DMT, while the drum machine sounds as if it's staggering drunkenly toward the toilets to vomit. A man and woman speak in alien tongues, their voices pitched up and down for maximum WTF-ness. It's fantastic and indicative of a free spirit whose talent matches his predilection for subverting convention.