LSTNFND, one of the local hip hop labels in Toronto, releases the instrumental version of every track their artists put out. It’s one of my favourite things they do. The beats behind Jon Corbin’s latest EP are some of their most confident work yet.

That’s to say nothing of Corbin himself. “Spark the Flame” is, without a doubt, the best song on the track. His flow is getting better, but ultimately, his storytelling is getting better too. The lyrics are getting better, perhaps, but it’s all in the delivery here.

The guest rapper is also competent on the track, and elevates it to another level. It’s undoubtedly Corbin’s best work, and a new high note for a label that’s getting better with every release.

And ultimately, it’s hard to write about LSTNFND’s artists now without writing about the label. There are few labels so concerned with giving their artists the support they need for success, and you can hear that pay off with each release.

Hearts Set Ablaze is just an EP — it’s only six tracks, and three of those are instrumental. But you can hear Corbin grow, and LSTNFND grows with him.

Give it a listen on Spotify below:

The post Jon Corbin: Hearts Set Ablaze EP appeared first on Unsung Sundays.

French Kiwi Juice is a special record. It’s electronic music, yes, but its appeal lies so far beyond that. Hip hop fans are going to find a lot to love here. (Based on “Skyline” alone, I’m hoping Chance the Rapper taps FKJ to write a few beats for him.) Jazz fans will find a lot to love too — listen to the saxophone in “We Ain’t Feeling Time”!

French Kiwi Juice embraces loops, but it’s so texturally nuanced that it’s hard to describe it in those terms. It’s easy to see why the album is getting embraced all over social media: it’s transcendent.

“Lying Together” riffs off hip hop. “Die with a Smile” feels like vintage jazz music coming together with electronic synths.

Without a doubt, part of the lightning in the bottle comes from FKJ’s Parisian background. There’s such a mixture of culture and ideas here that the music could only come from Europe. FKJ is at a point where he’s still sucking up great ideas. The producer is still in his mid-twenties, at a point where he’s not done grabbing inspiration from wherever it’s available to him.

The best tracks on the record, for me, are the jazzy ones and the oddities. I love “Go Back Home”, which has a pop-influenced chorus and a glitchy beat that would have belonged in Kanye West beats circa 2003.

It’s hard to talk in depth about FKJ’s debut. It doesn’t have the raw vocal power of any of the most-talked about musicians of the past couple years. But his textural take on French house is so superb that it bears discussion only in superlatives.

I can’t recommend French Kiwi Juice enough. It’s one of the most consistently exhilarating debuts of the past couple years, and it’s been on steady repeat for the past two weeks.

The post FKJ: French Kiwi Juice appeared first on Unsung Sundays.

I don’t know why this is always so surprising. You should get good at your job after forty years, but that somehow rarely happens in the music industry. For The Feelies, it might be a sense of mortality that’s compelling them to write such good music. Or maybe it’s just the lo-fi acoustic guitar vibe that brings out the best in them.

Either way, it doesn’t matter when the music is this good. The album is largely acoustic, and that’s great for The Feelies — it puts the focus on their songwriting, and not on their abilities as musicians. The instrumentation and the lyrics are front and centre, and almost feel like easy listening.

There’s a quality here that’s unsurprising for a band with their experience. Any great band from The Feelies’ era has to put out great acoustic rock. It’s a requirement. And here, whether it’s on the mellow album opener “In Between” or sing-alongs like “Stay the Course”, the band is staking a claim.

As the album goes on, it picks up a lot of steam. “Gone, Gone, Gone” is significantly faster than “In Between”. The final track, when the band reprises “In Between” again, is a fascinating case study of how a track can fall apart. “In Between (Reprise)” builds up until it self-destructs into a wall of electric distortions and noise.

For a band apparently writing music about their own mortality, that should perhaps be unsurprising. As time goes on, they increasingly run out of it, and the album has an increased sense of urgency by its final track.

But truth be told, I don’t think there’s a grand statement here about life or death. I don’t want to read into it. That being said, increasing the momentum in the back half of the record is a great — and unusual — way to maintain interest. And it makes each subsequent listen that much more rewarding.

It’s easy to recommend The Feelies’ latest album. In Between is brilliantly paced and written. It’s all killer and no filler, and fans of the band — and lovers of indie rock — would be remiss to miss it.

The post The Feelies: In Between appeared first on Unsung Sundays.

With Drunk, Thundercat gets a little more real even as his music gets a bit more cerebral. True to the album’s name, the music is self-deprecating, anxious, spaced out, and hilarious — often during the same song.

“A Fan’s Mail” sees Thundercat dreaming about turning into a cat (and literally meowing about it). “Uh Uh” has some unreal bass lines that feel like the product of Nintendo and cosmic drugs. “Walk On By”, which features Kendrick Lamar, sounds like it belongs on To Pimp a Butterfly. But “Show You the Way”, the preceding track, is a soft rock track that features both Michael McDonald and Kenny Loggins.

Despite their myriad of differences, these songs are united by their common love of jazz and jazzy experimentation. Make no mistake, even when he’s experimenting with synths and pop beats on album standout “Friend Zone”, Thundercat is channeling his favourite jazz icons.

All of this makes Thundercat’s latest record as hard to classify as always. But one thing is certain: Drunk is certainly more upbeat than Thundercat’s last record, The Beyond / Where Giants Roam. While They Beyond dealt with death and transcendence, and what happens in “the beyond” after our lives are over, Drunk seems to embrace our morbidity in life and celebrate it (with a healthy dose of partying and drinking). Hence the title.

In a lot of ways, Drunk feels like a reaction to 2016. The songs aren’t all politically charged, but there are many that deal with being black. Thundercat’s take on this is racially charged, of course, but also lyrically ironic (which isn’t surprising). But on the flip side of that, Thundercat’s leaving his wallet at the club and getting drunk and friend zoned as he tries to sort out the mess that is life.

It all feels like a poor way or dealing with stress — which maybe we can all relate to, at least a little bit.

In it all of its idiosyncrasies, Drunk feels like Thundercat being his most relatable — even if it is drowning in experimentation. It’s a can’t-miss record that celebrates life and runs away from it, often in the same breath.

The post Thundercat: Drunk appeared first on Unsung Sundays.

The Iceberg is the follow-up to last year’s instrumental The Odd Tape and a small EP he released last year called Alwasta. But if you ask me, it’s the first followup to The Good Fight, one of my favourite hip hop records of 2015. “Prolific”, clearly, barely begins to describe Oddisee’s frequent output.

This time around, Oddisee has a lot more to say. Oddisee is a great emcee, but his production has often overshadowed his vocal work for me. His voice often takes a backseat to the instrumentation. (The Odd Tape was the maturation of that style; it was completely instrumental and, of course, excellent.) On The Iceberg, Oddisee’s voice is clearer than it’s ever been.

And he has a lot to say. About “Things” (the lead single) that are bringing him down, politics, race, religion — it goes on. Oddisee isn’t shy. “You Grew Up” is an outstanding song about immigration and racial tension in America. “Rain Dance” is a song about Oddisee’s musical and financial journey — but it’s also a tremendous beat.

And therein lies the difference between The Iceberg and every other Oddisee record. Odd has always been a lyrical fellow; he’s an incredible rapper and a gifted writer. But with his voice sharing equal responsibility with the instruments, it sounds like what he’s saying is more important than ever.

Oddisee is one of the most conscious rappers out there, and The Iceberg sees him growing even more conscious and self-aware. That’s a good thing. In 2017, we need more voices like Oddisee.

The post Oddisee: The Iceberg appeared first on Unsung Sundays.

For a Westerner like myself, the sounds of Russia and Algeria are (no pun intended) completely foreign. They use non traditional scales and key signatures, making Vinculum feel deeper and more mysterious than it might to people who are already deeply familiar with the regions’ music.

But were I to guess, I’d assume Vinculum would even be surprising for folks who are already aware of Bartok and Tchaikovsky. The album mixes original Bartok recordings from Algeria, new orchestral recordings, and electronics and unique performances from Ellis Cage. It’s a heady brew.

In many ways, I am reminded of mid-century jazz music. Daring and inspired, but certainly not for everybody, Vinculum is all about exploration. It’s about pushing the boundaries, while remaining conceptually bound to the original songs and sounds.

Similarly, jazz was trying to expand the vocabulary of the music without entirely abandoning the traditional work that came before. Jazz players wanted to introduce the genre to new people without totally abandoning their existing audience.

Ellis Cage’s Vinculum is playing along these lines. It’s at once familiar: classical compositions surrounded by electronic ambience. Today, this isn’t an unfamiliar sound. But Ellis brings it, thanks to the unique sounds of Russia and Algeria, to a new level of creativity.

There is something fundamentally uneasy going on throughout Vinculum, a constant point of tension that makes the music both discomforting and enthralling. It grabs you and doesn’t let you go. There are no standout tracks because they flow together. Without iTunes notifications telling me when the track had changed, I’m not sure I’d be aware the track had changed at all. So it’s impossible to recommend a single track, but it is easy to recommend the album as a whole.

Vinculum isn’t for everybody. It might not be to your taste; I’m somewhat surprised it’s to mine. It’s dark, ambitious, and sometimes difficult to approach. But there’s a majesty and mystery to it that few other independent composers are able to put on display.

The post Ellis Cage: Vinculum appeared first on Unsung Sundays.

Human is such a different album that Rag’N’Bone Man almost needs a new name. (His earlier work, particularly Disfigured, suited it much better).

But all that withstanding, this new style suits Rory Graham so much better that it’s hard to complain. From the opening (titular) track, Graham totally dominates Human. In fact, his old style was so dominating musically that I had no idea Graham was this good of a singer!

Nearly every track is worth writing about. The afore-mentioned title track is a stunning opener that capitalizes on everything that Human is about: swaggering bass lines, blues influence, and a huge pop sheen overtop of everything. “Bitter End” is a track that simmers thanks to an incredible performance from Graham. “Be the Man” is incredibly pop-heavy, but Graham’s baritone voice carries it through the entire song.

There are some songs that are particularly strong. “Love You Any Less” is a song that will no doubt capture the radio the same way Sam Smith does. It’s an incredible, raw performance from Graham overtop of a remarkably bare backing track that lets his voice breathe.

“Die Easy” is an a cappella performance that simply captivates. There’s nobody with a voice like Graham’s on the market.

Even his older tracks, like “Wolves”, are given a bit of a sheen make-over here that put an extra focus on Graham’s voice. But “Wolves” doesn’t sit as well with this new, cotton candy style that Graham’s performing as now.

And the occasional track features a hip hop performance, which is something that Graham was doing in 2014 too (with a Vince Staples nod then). But these days, it doesn’t sit as well.

When the old Rag’n’Bone Man collides with the new one, there’s a slight disconnect.

But despite that, the debut record from one of the most intimidating voices in neo-blues is an astounding effort, and one that I’ve been listening to again and again over the past week. It’s easy to get into, and it sticks in your head. Rag’n’Bone Man is one of the most promising new performers of the past five years.

The post Rag’n’Bone Man: Human appeared first on Unsung Sundays.

Alejandro Bento is a tremendous pianist. Each track on the album shows him demonstrating a wide range of skills, but “Mar” is the track that most impresses me. Bento plays through a ten minute track that feels more like a brief suite than it does a single track, with a simple theme that Bento pushes beyond its limitations and into new and exciting places.

Bento’s also an incredibly dynamic pianist. His music stays interesting because of the masterful control that he has over the power of his fingers, allowing the volume to ebb and flow with seemingly little effort. He plays with so much grace that it’s easy to listen to the album on repeat, picking up minor things you hadn’t noticed on each new listen.

In many ways, Bento reminds me of some of Nils Frahm’s older work. But where Nils Frahm dove deep into electronic, Bento takes a different approach.

The most interesting track on the record, though, is the surprisingly well-done Robot Koch remix of “Rain”. The remix takes the song in an entirely new direction. It’s an elegant mix of electronic music and traditional classical.

I think the folks at Subtempo Records must have agreed with me, because this week also sees the release or Ripples Remixed, a seven-track collection of remixes by artists who are pushing the bounds of what’s possible with electronic music. The remixes are as elegant and beautiful as the original music — which is a surprising (and triumphant) surprise.

In many ways, it’s easier to love the remixes than it is the original. I suspect everybody will find something to love in the remixes, and the original record will appeal largely to fans of modern classical.

The remixes add a lot of texture to what was already a very textured record, giving an impression of added depth and meaning to each track.

You can listen to Ripples on Apple Music, iTunes, Soundcloud, and Spotify.

You can listen to Ripples Remixes on Apple Music, iTunes, Soundcloud, and Spotify.

The post Alejandro Bento: Ripples appeared first on Unsung Sundays.

And for good reason. Sampha is one of the most talented performers to come out of Britain in recent memory.

Process is his debut solo record. Unlike the music where he’s provided one voice among many, Process is a chance for Sampha to open up and get personal. And boy, does he get personal. Process sees Sampha dealing with the loss of his mother to cancer in 2015 — and consequently, reflecting on the death of his father from cancer in 1998. The songs are intensely emotional, occasionally dark, but almost always revelatory.

Like any good novel would, each track on Process reveals something new about its central character. And Sampha is one of the best storytellers in the business right now. The album’s lead single, “(No One Knows Me) Like the Piano” is one of the most beautiful ballads of the past five years, and it feels like you’re being given Sampha’s private diary.

It doesn’t hurt that his music is so good. While the emotions are raw, the production is anything but. Everything is smooth as butter. Sampha’s voice is amazing — velvety smooth, but rich and textured at the same time.

The album is also difficult to define. It’s one thing to call Process electronic music, but Sampha also frequently dabbles in R&B. Precisely labelling his music is like fitting a square peg into the hole of some complex, hard-to-recognize shape.

At his best, on tracks like “Kora Sings” or “Blood On Me”, Sampha channels the best in his genre. There are times when he sounds like Chet Faker, and others when he sounds like Frank Ocean’s more organic-sounding cousin. Each track is surprising and engrossing, and none of them overstay their welcome.

With unbridled creative enthusiasm, Sampha isn’t interested in defining a genre or fitting into one. He’s making R&B-influenced electronic that defies explanation, but that’s fitting for a clear first contender for Album of the Year.

What Sampha has done, beyond all that, is something tangibly more difficult: he’s captivated us. He’s earned our attention. In 2017, Sampha has made a forty-minute album feel ten minutes long. It’s over in a breeze, and it never feels like it’s repeating itself.

Without a doubt, Process is an incredible success.

The post Sampha: Process appeared first on Unsung Sundays.

That makes Snowdonia a slightly difficult affair.

In 2015, Thomas Feteke, Surfer Blood’s guitarist, left Surfer Blood after being diagnosed with a rare form of stomach cancer. Snowdonia is the band’s first release since his death, and the only one in Surfer Blood’s career thus far to be written without any input from him.

To complicate matters even further, longtime bass guitarist Kevin Williams left the band in October last year to “pursue other opportunities” (I haven’t heard what he’s up to yet).

That left only two members of the original group: singer John Paul Pitts and drummer Tyler Schwarz. The band brought in an old friend of theirs from high school, Lindsey Mills, to replace Williams on bass. Mike McCleary has the even-more-difficult job of filling in for Thomas Feteke.

So Snowdonia is very much a record with roots in loss, starring a band in transition.

Sometimes, this is obvious. There’s new ground broken on Snowdonia that has little in common with Surfer Blood’s roots. Tracks like “Six Flags in F or G” are more experimental than anything the band has done before. (And you can tell they’re a direct result of Feteke’s death: Pitts describes what he feels as “parasitic grief” on the track.)

If anything, tracks like these make it clear that the band is going through a phase where everybody has to get to know each other again. Things don’t necessarily gel the way they used to.

But on occasion, they do gel very well. “Frozen” is one of the best indie songs I’ve heard in a while, with an astoundingly catchy riff and melody that reminds me of their output circa 2010. But unlike that year’s Astro Coast, Snowdonia feels less focused and less refined. Tracks like “Instant Doppelgängers” and “Taking Care of Eddy” feel like vintage Surfer Blood, even while they tread new ground, but they don’t hit below the belt the same way that Astro Coast did (and does).

All that being said, Snowdonia is an impressive record because it feels like lightning in a bottle. Few bands are willing to be this openly vulnerable with their audiences, opening up the most difficult chapters in their lives for all to see. It might not go down as a classic, but Snowdonia is better than anybody had any right to expect. It’s a fun record, with some great ideas and new directions for the band.

And as a case study of bands in transition, it’s hard to beat.

The post Surfer Blood: Snowdonia appeared first on Unsung Sundays.