by Christina Milian ft. The-Dream
(MP3)
The starlet who brought us “Dip It Low” in 2004—groaning,
almost subcutaneous bass; halting tempo; clopping percussion;
near-whispered vocal—comes back to do it again, only this time
everything is stripped down even further. Also, she wants us to know
who she truly is. And brilliantly—as befits someone whose
personality is no major shakes in and of itself—that personality
is… whatever you like. To wit: “I can be suburban/Dinner’s in the
oven” (she and producer/costar The-Dream have clearly been watching
Mad Men just like everyone else); “I can be the biggest in the
room, like an elephant/I can be”—here she gets even quieter, if
you can believe it—”the quietest—shhh! Irrelevant.” A
complete trifle the first time I heard it, a revelation the fifth, a
weirdo smash the tenth.
by Joker & Ginz
(Kapsize)
The synth line sounds like something thrown together after Prince
forgot to turn his machines off in 1981 (specifically, after the
session for “Jack U Off”) and also like a Naugahyde couch rubbing
against Naugahyde flooring. The bass blurts and the drums crack like
the thermometer during the other week’s heat wave. There isn’t much
more, and there needn’t be: This simple, stark instrumental needs only
its unmissable tune to be one of the year’s anthems.
by JJ
(Sincerely Yours)
No one seems to know who or what this conglomeration is; it’s on the
same label as Swedish indie-poppers the Tough Alliance, there’s a
female singer (is that who JJ is?), but otherwise no one’s saying. No
one needs to: JJ bridges beach-headed stuff like Studio; the early,
folky Everything but the Girl; and a few other modish reference points.
And the title of this says it: The guitars (not to mention the
percussion and lyrics) hum with the same rediscovery-of-Africa that’s
been going around indie-ana for the last couple years. It’s very nice,
ditto the album, but slight.
by Syran Mbenza & Ensemble Rumba Kongo
(Riverboat)
Now this is vintage-African-pop revivalism—literally.
Syran Mbenza has been leading bands in the Congo since the 1970s. And
like every other musician there, he’s an acolyte of the grand
maître of rumba, Franco, who is to that strain of guitar
playing what Chuck Berry is to rock and roll. This is the highlight of
Mbenza’s sparkling new tribute album, Immortal Franco: slicker
and fuller than Franco’s sparser and more hypnotic original (available
on last year’s must-own Stern’s double-CD, Francophonic) and
every bit as worthy of your time. 