BJ grew up singing in church choirs, and his past piousness comes into stark conflict with his sexual temptations. On Church, he sings about being conflicted between a desire to drink, do drugs, and have sex with a woman on a Saturday night despite having to go to church in the morning. On In My Mind, BJ is aware of God, but he never postures as a Christian.

And this vibe continues throughout the album: as BJ croons over hip hop-influenced beats and advances the R&B genre along the way, he also sticks his toes into lyrical waters that musicians like Marvin Gaye have already waded through. Of course, popular single The New Cupid (featuring a great cameo from Kendrick Lamar and a fantastic spoken word sample at the end) is a perfect example: love is hard, lust is easier, but love is worth it.

And that’s exactly the point: BJ the Chicago Kid wants you to know he’s not just in it for sex. On Woman’s World and Jeremiah/The World Needs More Love (my personal favourite cut from the album), BJ the Chicago Kid belts his heart about some capital-L love. For BJ, sex isn’t the point, because without love we’re missing out. In our modern hook up culture, BJ is challenging us to rethink our lifestyles and think differently.

On Jeremiah/The World Needs More Love, he explains that “love burns real deep”, and adds, “Just in case you were wondering what Jeremiah I’m speaking of: not the singer, but the prophet from the Bible. Called to be a prophet at a young age, it calls fear in his heart to speak what the Lord gave him to say. But God told him, you’re not a boy, you’re a prophet. So pretty much fear not, you know what I mean? So whatever he had to say from that day, the feeling he had then, I have right now.”

There is a sense that BJ has something important to say, both personally and musically. He knows it, and when you’re done listening to In My Mind, you know it too. In My Mind is a tremendous statement that asserts that BJ is here, and he’s here to stay. It’s also a promise, though, that BJ has more to share with us — and it feels like his most important message has yet to be sung.

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And undoubtedly, the band has learned from those experiences. Their aptly-titled sophomore album, Sittin’ Heavy, finds the brand tightening up their brand of rock ‘n’ roll. Their vocal harmonies are better, their riffs are more defined, and their musical vocabulary is broader.

Songs like For The People find the band experimenting with country-influenced tones, and the lead single Don’t Tell Me How To Live is carried by a massive, undoubtedly Alice-in-Chains-inspired riff. Things Get Better feels like bar-blues hard rock, a style they’d only flirted with on Furiosity.

And while the band certainly hasn’t quieted down, they’ve learned how to hold back for the sake of the song’s structures. Black Forest (a Zeppelin-influenced track if I’ve ever heard one), and Another Man’s Shoes (Alice again, particularly in the bass line), both experiment with pulling back on the rhythm guitar and giving the bass centre attention.

Most importantly though, Monster Truck is as confident as ever. That confidence sells the record and makes its raw energy palpable despite its glossy, near-perfect production. Monster Truck is aiming for the ceiling with Sittin’ Heavy, and they darn near blow it off.

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In 2003, Madlib was granted the rare privilege of access to their entire catalogue for a collection of remixes to be re-released on Blue Note Record’s catalogue. Each song is named after the track it remixes, and only one includes a rapped verse (Please Set Me At Ease, featuring Medaphoar). What results from this focus on the original tracks is a collection of hip hop beats that morphs into something entirely different — and completely unexpected.

The jazz Madlib is remixing, like all great jazz, lied on the fringe’s of music’s sensibilities (at one point in time). And while Madlib wasn’t the first star to gain access to Madlib’s catalogue, he is the one who seems most fit for the project. His hip hop production work and his ability as an emcee isn’t far removed from Blue Note’s jazziest origins: it’s eccentric, unpredictable, and far from the status quo of commercialism in the genre.

That makes for a unique pairing and an interesting listen — one that is at once superficial and intricate, in the sense that it makes for great background music and also rewards deeper listening.

Throughout the interludes in the album, Madlib takes the time to explain the story behind Blue Note and its success — but you also get the impression that he’s talking, at least metaphorically, about his dreams for his own career as a producer. Talking about Alfred Lion, he explains that Alfred never made a mistake, and that out of the over–1,000 records that Alfred produced, 950 of them are classics. There’s a sense that Madlib hopes the same for himself.

Madlib is also making a statement about hip hop, as a genre: by taking jazz classics from the world’s most pre-eminent jazz label and mixing them for a new future, he’s asserting that hip hop — in form and texture — is as varied and unique as jazz was, and perhaps is its natural successor. Shades Of Blue makes a strong case.

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The two also make an incredible pair. Flume’s electronic synthesizers pair well with Faker’s wobbly, broken-sounding voice and result in something that sounds more like an amalgamation of both of their styles than it does the sound of Faker or Flume alone.

While Flume has a great sense of beat and rhythm, and is more than willing to break tradition to try something new, on Lockjaw he breaks that tradition to cater more towards Faker’s voice. And Faker stretches himself to match Flume’s pop sensibilities.

Hindsight is 20/20, of course. What’s most interesting about Lockjaw is what it says about Faker’s career progression: the EP nearly perfectly bridges his styles as he moved from Thinking With Textures to some of Built On Glass’s more evident pop tonalities. It makes you wonder what Flume’s sophomore record Skin, due at some point this year, is going to sound like.

At three tracks long, Lockjaw is short and sweet, and easily digestible. Putting it on repeat reveals a lot of fine details and incredible production value: only Flume and Chet Faker could make it sound as if the music you’re hearing is coming from above and below you, as well as the left and right channels of your stereo speakers.

Lockjaw, like everything these two artists make, is an experience.

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From there, we saw the birth of jazz fusion: jazz and rock primarily, but occasionally with funk or R&B instead. Jazz-rock became a big thing in the ’70s, with groups like Chicago or Frank Zappa being largely responsible for its uprising. Cream and the Grateful Dead were largely responsible for its popularity as well. In particular, The Grateful Dead’s jam-based performances were largely responsible for jazz-rock’s growing acceptance, since improv as an art form was so jazz-like to begin with.

But since the ’80s, it seemed like a lot of crossover jazz was fading away as the industry moved towards smooth jazz and its contemporaries on the radio stations. And, as far as I can figure, jazz hasn’t been a popular mainstay on the radio since then.

But it feels like there’s something changing in music. It’s hard to notice it, but once you do, you’ll start hearing it everywhere. Jazz — and jazz fusion — just might be making a comeback.

Jazz and Hip Hop

Jazz’s biggest return came in the form of last year’s To Pimp A Butterfly, Kendrick Lamar’s newest record. Stylistically, it’s very different from his earlier work, and the list of producers on the record — aside from familiar names like Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg — were puzzling to hip hop fans. But TPAB was undoubtedly the best record of the year, and certainly its most important — perhaps the most important of the decade. And it’s jazz fusion through and through.

If modern jazz fusion has a hero, that hero is Kendrick Lamar.

Billboard has a fantastic interview with jazz legends and newcomers Terrace Martin, Robert Glasper, Ambrose Akinmusire, and Kamasi Washington — all of whom played on To Pimp A Butterfly. In the long and short, it’s an interview in praise of hip hop, but also in praise of Kendrick — more than once, the article refers to Kendrick as the John Coltrane of hip hop.

To Pimp A Butterfly is this new version of jazz fusion that’s a lot like the old one: there’s no need for jazz fusion to be restricted to its rock leanings anymore; now, the world’s most popular genre and its most important progenitor has harnessed it to make the genre more soulful again. If modern jazz fusion has a hero, that hero is Kendrick Lamar.

But hip hop has always had its roots in jazz music. A Tribe Called Quest felt like it picked up right where ’70s jazz left off, particularly with The Low End Theory. The mentality, the rhythms, they’re all similar. The feeling of improvisation is there, the experimentation, the braveness, and perhaps even the lack of brevity are all in that record — and many others in hip hop.

Hip hop’s association with jazz has always been a known quantity too — maybe not amongst popular rappers’ fan bases, but certainly to the core followers of the genre. Pioneering producer Madlib’s 2003 record, Shades Of Blue, is a collection of jazz remixes using records from the legendary Blue Note Records collection. (Perhaps fittingly, Blue Note released Shades of Blue as well). Shades of Blue was dubbed an experiment, but at the same time, that’s not necessarily the case for most instrumental hip hop. Groups like 40 Winks or The Land Of The Loops owe everything to jazz.

So while jazz bands are making a comeback now in hip hop music, particularly thanks to Kendrick, there might be something bigger going on beneath the surface.

Rock’n’Jazz

Even before David Bowie passed away, Blackstar was a revelation: a rock album that largely avoided rock and roll, the record is jazz fusion at its finest (read our review). The title track and Lazarus both reveal an innate understanding that Bowie had about jazz music. And generally speaking, Bowie’s had a history of leading the way in rock music. Blackstar imitators are no doubt on their way.

But the jazz thing’s already making a comeback in rock records. It was noticeable before Bowie’s newest record came out, but it wasn’t something that could be tangibly stated as a comeback. For example, Guy Carvey’s (of Elbow fame) debut record as a solo artist, Courting The Squall, is loaded with jazzy moments.

And progressive rockers have been keeping up the jazz tradition for decades. Progressive death metal band Opeth has been experimenting with this style for nearly half a decade now, with their record Heritage being an obvious candidate for a jazz comeback retrospective. And that came out in 2011, although it’s undoubtedly aging well; it’s perhaps a better album now than it was when it was released.

Indie rock is also beginning to develop an understanding of jazz. There are jazz notes throughout Harriet’s debut record, not to mention Nickel Creek’s unusual jazz-inspired arrangements on their comeback record A Dotted Line.

Jazz is the live band at its most untamed and its most natural, a cacophony of high-flying instrumentation all in the name of making popular music feel more organic again.

It seems like every ten years, we’re talking about jazz music making a comeback. Did it ever leave? I’m not sure. Is it coming back? I don’t know. I don’t want to look like a fool ten years from now, but I’d be surprised if this is the last we hear about a jazz fusion comeback in the next couple years.

In today’s musical environment — one which feels predicated on electronic synths and R&B-inspired chill pop — jazz feels ripe for a comeback. When more people like Kendrick Lamar start relishing in the live band again, jazz becomes a natural result: jazz is the live band at its most untamed and its most natural, a cacophony of high-flying instrumentation all in the name of making popular music feel more organic again.

And if it takes jazz to bring back a sense of invention to modern pop, I’m all for it.

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Far from being a soundtrack to a simple video game, fans of Monument Valley will know that the soundtrack had a monumental (pun intended) task. It had to match the intricacy of a puzzle game so gorgeous and understated that it won a design award from Apple, and it also had to carry the player through a game based more on texture than story-telling.

The soundtrack rises to the soundtrack with aplomb, easily moving from one theme to the next. It can be quiet or energizing, but it’s never over-powering and frequently calming. More importantly though, there’s a certain depth to it that’s lacking from most of its brethren.

Many people believe that music is made up of textures and colours. There’s a known phenomenon where some people perceive musical notes similarly to the way they perceive colours, to the point where they can close their eyes when they hear somebody play a D# on a piano and vividly see the colour they associate with that note. I imagine that, for those people, the Monument Valley soundtrack would be an incredible experience.

For the rest of us, the soundtrack transports us to another place. Even if you haven’t played the game, the music feels decorated with the same sense of playful curiosity that the game’s M.C. Escher-inspired art direction is. It’s moody without being sour, and more interested in sounds than it is in the construction of a whole.

That doesn’t result in a feeling of disconnect, though: the Monument Valley soundtrack feels united in its thematic sense of exploration as it guides the listener from one feeling to a next. Certain tracks are starkly reminiscent of the same Indian music that inspired The Beatles’ Tomorrow Never Comes — but in a completely different, quieter and more introspective fashion.

For fans of the game, the soundtrack is a must-listen. And for those of us who haven’t played the game, it’s a journey to a world we haven’t experienced yet — a journey as magical as many of our favourite film soundtracks. (And if you’re wondering what all the fuss is about, you can download the game for iOS here.)

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Partially, that was to avoid being reactive: while it’s easy to hop on the same bandwagon as everybody else and claim a record to be the best of the year, it’s also very easy to make a mistake with claims like that and look foolish later. Hindsight is 20/20, but I needed time to step back before saying anything that would look ridiculous later.

At this point, it seems conclusive — and even President Obama agrees — that Lamar owned 2015.

What’s not as conclusive is how important To Pimp A Butterfly will be five years from now. I’d go so far as to say that the album is the most important of the decade thus far. It’s not just its jazz experiments — although that’s definitely a part of it — but it’s also the album’s cultural significance.

As Lamar explores his status as a rich black man exploring Africa for the first time and going back home to Compton, he incidentally sheds light on his generation’s biggest plight in cities like Ferguson. As black people (and other non-white nationalities) are mistreated and abused by police, To Pimp A Butterfly feels like a call to act — and a call to recognize each other as people. It’s an incredibly important record that shines a light on the way music can speak for our culture, and how it draws attention to the real issues we otherwise might not have even noticed.

The standout from the record is, no doubt, How Much A Dollar Cost. Against a laid-back jazzy beat, Kendrick discusses an encounter with a homeless man who asks him for money and reveals himself later to be God. Kendrick’s lyrical and rhythmic abilities as a rapper here are unparalleled, as he explains and justifies his behaviour despite knowing he’s sometimes no better than the white racist.

It’s not just that song, of course. Alright has become the theme song for the Black Lives Matter movement. The Blacker The Berry is powerful, and Kendrick’s live performances of the song seem to generate a simultaneously rabid and uncomfortably tense response from its audiences. And at the end of i, Kendrick breaks out a spoken word performance that’s hard to top.

But top it he does, with a so-well-done-it-feels-real interview with Tupac that Lamar scraped together with a bunch of unreleased tapes. It caps off an unbelievable album on a somber note: some things never change.

It’s more than the lyrics that make the album stand out, though: the music itself is incredible. To Pimp A Butterfly is one of the jazziest hip hop records ever made. It’s not a jazz record, but it has so many of the greats on it (like Terrace Martin and Thundercat) — as well as some new faces (like the immensely-talented Kamasi Washington). And it oozes the same sort of sexual, raw, and kinetic energy that the best jazz records eked.

Not to mention the way Kendrick Lamar uses jazz’s best inclinations to continually surprise the audiences with unpredictable beats, rhythms, and song structures. It makes To Pimp A Butterfly immensely rewarding with deeper listening.

There’s a point in the album, around the For Sale? Interlude, when you realize you genuinely have no idea what Kendrick is up to or where he’s going with the whole record. It’s full of surprises. And by the time it’s done, you let out a giant exhale, no matter how times you’ve heard it before. While Alright and King Kunta are great singles, it’s clear that the album is best when you listen to it from beginning to end without skipping a track.

Every ten or fifteen years, an artefact comes out of our pop culture that seems to be the perfect depiction of something happening in our society. It happened fifteen years ago with The Lord Of The Rings, a film trilogy that seemed perfectly time to capture our fears and hopes concerning the War on Terrorism. With To Pimp A Butterfly, we have something similar: a time capsule that is perhaps the closest thing to a perfect record that we’ve ever had, but it also means so much more. It’s our time, no matter how bad it is, recorded onto vinyl. It’s a thing of beauty.

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