“Magnetic,” the lead single of Tunde Adebimpe’s debut solo album, The Speed and Chaos of the World, isn’t enough to drag the radio singer’s television. On the contrary, he is supercharged by it. It made an introduction to Adevimpi’s solo career thunder, but that’s not exactly how it is Your black bolts It’s been realized. The album’s release timings on television in a radio reunion campaign, but its origins were in fact tied to the band’s “Mini Imprologue” 2019. At the time, Adebimpe was playing around with a drum machine and some synths. He retains some of their rudimentary, demo-like qualities in a new record fleshed out by producer and multi-teacher Wilder Zoby. The album’s occasional sparse nature is complemented by the compositions of Adevimpi’s films, which are tense, thematically cohesive, and often showcase both the soft side of his vocal style and the man’s disease. “Magnetic” electroponk replaces a variety of electropop palettes, numerous mid-tempo tunes, and even acoustic odes to Adevimpi’s late sisters. It’s not the flames of light that kicks the record into gear, but these flickering sparks shine against the void.
1. Your black bolts
The opening title track introduces the idea that a short poem, slightly muffled by tape hiss, can, and in most cases, be able to do so. Even when that darkness seems like something to obscure them. “Let’s say we start with the stars, descend on the mountains, walk through hillside towns, calm the issues of love and hate,” he interned. “I walk through the edge of a tree and to the edge of a stream, and sit and lament the Happy Sad’s run.” Change, he concludes quite vaguely, “Everything looks at the stars.” He then hears the song and launches us straight into it.
2. Magnetic
The beginning of Your black bolts It’s not “Tell me a little, tell me a little, don’t show a lot,” but not so much “don’t show me a lot.” To properly title “magnetic” is an understatement. The album’s lead single is busier than purely electric with Adebimpe’s fiery performances, but the synths are also to borrow the singer’s words in the actual chorus. Even when running with nervous energy, he was forced to gain a bit of brain, and he contextualized it with the line “I was thinking about humanity in an age of kindness and anger.” He meets not only inventive and apocalyptic moments, but also in a kind of invincible and apocalyptic. What else can you do other than dance?
3. I ate the moon
The album transforms into a fantastic and infectious territory of Kampeye with “Ate the Moon”, placing Adebimpe’s skills as the performer’s front and center. Even as he warns of confusion, the track, foregrounded by Wilder Zobby’s choppy synths, culminating in the outro punchline, has cheeks. Internally, Adebimpe is carrierd between “Sad Extremes.”
4. Pinstack
On the surface, “Pinstack” is a simpler slice of glamour rock swagger, but with an unexpected shift and again, Adebimpe’s voice makes it seem trivial. He allows himself to relax a little: “Does it result from me?” he sings, “I am not stagnant,” pointing to the mirror with self-effective stupidity. His layered vocals can carry momentum before the distorted guitar drives the song home.
5. drop
The beatbox isn’t as strange a fit for the melancholy “drop” reflection as you might think. It’s not flashy, it’s lonely, as if covering the bones of a song over the dust. It goes back to the album’s soulful thesis, “My mind beats the spark/revival/jumps so high/and jumps to the sky.” However, it needs support, and in the second half, Adebimpe calls for someone to help cast the “extraordinary spell.” When we can sing together, he says, we may feel it.
6. Iri
The power of simplicity is rarely as much as the three words. In “Ily,” Adebimpe sings over and over again, attempting to utter a different voice, as if hoping to reach a higher plane of existence. “Ily” is elegy to her sister Jumoke, who describes as “a beacon in the darkness.” Mason Sax’s miserable acoustic guitar fixates Adebimpe’s universe longing, and it sounds pretty simple too.
7. most
Not just “most” Your black boltsOne blatant misstep of the book, but it also feels strangely misguided that it comes from “ily”, not to mention the appeal of the sound. The album generally does a good job of balancing electropop and Adevimpi’s theatrical ambitions, but with “The Most,” those elements are totally inconsistent, but the lyrics are very clunky, but I don’t know if another arrangement would flatter. “If there is a lesson to learn/about the nature of desire/sometimes the rest of your love/even when your lover is a liar.” I don’t think it felt like this, even if you learned the same lesson. Whether that’s true or not try out To undermine that integrity, no emotions have come at all.
8. God knows
Avoiding the experience of “most” and “most” betrayal is far more effective at arousing its central conflict. The mid-tempo cuts quickly bite, confrontation, lament, and a more delicate balance, with the pedal steel touches evoking real sadness for the guitar chunks, threatening piano notes. Lyrically, it is sandwiched between vindictivity and vulnerability. “Pressing all buttons/But you saved something self-destructive for yourself” and “This loneliness/Move with a smile/Tears in my face” Still, the spell seems to be working.
9. Blue
In “Blue”, Adebimpe zooms out – literally: “I took him to the hill to get a better perspective.” The view he relays is from a town where “womb spreads like disease” on a foreshadowing industrial soundscape. As drum machines replace for dynamic percussion, the imminent fate not only intensifies, but also takes on a certain organic quality.
10. Someone is new
Here is a song that owns all the synthetic sheen that channels “Heaven Vibration” in all meaningless gloss through the album’s most enthusiastic synths and most catching hooks. There are no sparse pieces of irony here. Even if it still leaves Adebimbi, “Is there nothing we can do about this?” Usually his songs feel those questions. But this time it is also a rebellious response.
11. Street light Nuevo
“Street Light Nuevo,” part of a sparkly gliding electronica, circles the album entirely by describing the songs you first heard. “It was wild like the moon.” The song keeps a little distance for a while. Miguel Atwood Fergson’s strings begin to sound like an ascending, and the light comes closer. “Give me that sound/I’ll just meet someone,” Adebimpe pleads. Perhaps considering the love he hangs out, the stranger in his audience, or the previous song, he’s referring to the new guy who wants to cast himself. For the established, newly revived, ever-shaping costume singer, paving a new path is just part of the job. Your black bolts Dig under your skin enough to feel like a revelation, not just another new beginning.
