Much of the record is surprisingly different from what we’ve heard so far from Fantastic Negrito’s EPs. The song that will likely be most familiar to you is Lost in a Crowd, which was his previous single and a song that epitomized the style he’s already become known for: working man old-school roots rock.

The rest of the album is surprising, though. Working Poor is a fantastic introduction: Fantastic Negrito has always felt like blues rock for the under-privileged, but throughout The Last Days of Oakland, he elevates himself to singing songs about the black man’s plight. Working Poor fits that description perfectly.

The style is epitomized with The N***a Song and its prelude, What Do You Do (Interlude 1). Not unlike Kendrick Lamar, Fantastic Negrito is making music that is unaware of the injustice and violence towards black men. It’s stark, striking music that is as difficult to listen to as it is easy to enjoy.

In that sense, Fantastic Negrito feels like the Kendrick of blues rock and soul. He’s a black man who’s incredibly aware of the role race plays in his life and his music. Consequently, his music feels more important, essential even — and I think it is. The Last Days of Oakland is smart, meaningful, and important.

That’s not to say that Fantastic Negrito doesn’t have fun with his music. Hump Thru the Winter and Scary Woman both feel like lively music perfect for performance, particularly with Scary Woman’s impressive piano solo. It’s a contrast to his more politically aware work, but Fantastic Negrito pulls it off.

Nothing Without You is the most clichéd R&B track on the whole record, and it appears as the last song. It feels like the closest thing to a love song on the record, and after an album that feels both politically aware and nearly violent, it doesn’t fit. It’s a beautiful, tender song, but it sticks out like a sore thumb.

Perhaps it should be telling that Fantastic Negrito can ape so many styles. I can’t decide if he’s blues rock, R&B, or soul rock. But I know that his version of In the Pines is one of the blackest songs I’ve ever heard. It feels like slave music.

On Fantastic Negrito’s website, he shares his phenomenal story about a major label deal, a near fatal car accident, and a mangled hand. But he also calls himself “a man’s truth told in the form of black roots music” and “uncut realness.” Whatever genre you want to label it as, that’s an approach I can get behind. The Last Days of Oakland is absolutely essential listening.

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For all of the talk you’ll hear in reviews about how Light Upon the Lake takes inspiration from the Byrds, the Beatles, and soul music (and every critic ever is saying it), it still feels wonderfully refreshing. I think it’s because guitar rock — and guitar pop even more so — feels like a dying culture.

Take the opening verse of Dave’s Song. There are a couple things immediately at work here. Most notably, I think, are the arpeggios picked throughout. Stolen straight from country music, who stole it from guitar pop (who stole it from jazz, for what it’s worth), this style is uncommon in most rock these days. It’s a level of complexity above what we’re used to. It sounds good though.

The second notable thing is singer Julian Ehrlich’s voice, which will be immediately familiar to Unknown Mortal Orchestra fans. Frankly, he’s perfectly suited for this material. His sad-sounding, dreamy falsetto works better for this material than it does on the recent work from Unknown Mortal Orchestra.

Almost every song follows this strategy: Light Upon the Lake, No Matter Where We Go, The Falls, and so on. Many of these songs are clearly inspired by the band’s favourite old-school 60’s guitar pop. A lot of bands have done this, but few do it as well as Whitney.

There are, of course, a lot of soul influences as well. This is clear from the band’s brass section. It’s most obvious in the album’s more upbeat tracks. But when it all comes together perfectly, it congeals into these brilliant moments that stick with you.

For my money, Polly is the clear standout track here: the guitar pop and the soul-inspired brass come together perfectly, and Erhlich sings “I know in the past you left me with no heart; How cheap were the nights you used to keep me warm?”. In that moment, you know you’ve heard something special. And who it sounds like is unimportant, because it moves past it.

What makes Whitney’s debut so great is, despite knowing as well as we do who and what they sound like, they move past that and make us feel something.

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But if I look at Welcome the Worms as if it were the debut from a new band, I’m left with an incredible collection of thunderously intense rock tunes. Almost every track feels like sheer muscle. Keep on Keepin’ On, the album opener, is clearly inspired by some of the band’s punk influences, but the riffs have more presence than ever before. Trying to Lose Myself Again is going to be one of the biggest party rock songs of the summer, by my reckoning, with really fantastic verbiage. “I’ve been getting high every night, trying to lose myself again,” Jennifer Calvin sings. It’s a call to party, delivered with all the spunk energy of a punk band and the sheer weight of pure rock riffage.

The guitar solos in Sleepwalking are new from the band (or at least better executed than the band was capable of before), and the lyrics feel better too. (Plus, bass solos!) And when the band does go punk on tracks like Wasted On You, they prove they still have what it takes. The improved production removes some of its charm, but you can’t kill off Bleached’s impeccable sense of melody.

Sour Candy is the song getting all the accolades here: it sounds as much like Phil Spector and Roxette as it does The Ramones. Its proof that Bleached is at their best when they put the melody front and centre. One of my favourite tracks, though, comes right after: Desolate Town is as punk as the band has ever been, with a gnarly three-chord riff that’s as evocative of The Misfits as anything the best punk bands have ever done.

Welcome the Worms is more approachable than Ride Your Heart, and while the former sacrifices some of the punk-leaning elements of the latter, it doesn’t ever sacrifice the band’s spunk. The album is a little less vicious, but just as vivacious. Fans might feel something has been lost in translation here, but I’d argue that Bleached was always at their best when they were at their most vivacious. They’re making broader music now, but they aren’t losing their personality in the process.

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That’s a good thing. Chapters has a unique air to it, despite its existence in the over-saturated R&B marketplace right now. Despite that, many of her songs offer original takes on the genre. Crush (which features a soulful Usher performance), has a chorus that plays with staccato elements influenced by reggae. Yuna’s performance on Your Love would fit well in a Bond film (I’d happily lobby for her to sing a Bond track, actually).

Perhaps it’s her background, but Yuna’s music has an ever-so-subtle hint of world music inspiration that I really like. It’s R&B that isn’t afraid to treat its audience as intelligent beings who are willing to take their time to digest something. The music is a multi-layered affair, more complex than what most of Yuna’s peers are doing.

I lost count of how many musical layers I heard in Poor Heart, which has a chorus that’s as intricate and dense as anything in electropop’s busy genre. It’s also a masterclass in songwriting: the chorus takes elements of the verse, amplifies them, and adds new textures and sonic qualities to create a whole new hook – even though the basic gist remains the same.

I think the best track on the record is Time. Yuna uses the final track on the record to tell her story and explain how she got into music as a child. It’s a song that’s meant to be encouraging, particularly for aspiring musicians and creative people. And Yuna is so sincere about it that you can’t help but be swept up in it. (It doesn’t hurt that the hooks are so great.) When the song is over, you’re shocked the album is over, and ready to hit play again and start the whole thing over.

Chapters is the third album from Yuna, and her work gets consistently more mature and impressive on every record. And like she notes, “it takes time” to become a master and get taken seriously by your peers. It’s an immensely rewarding album, but it still feels like she’s just getting started. I can’t wait to hear what comes next from her.

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