Australian artist Adam Hardcastle’s 6-track EP Stille is a combination of folk and new age hymns encased by solemn and religious vocal inflections.  Its sleepy pace is complemented with a minimalist approach to instrumentation across the entire album.  This could be simultaneously charming and exciting, but in the case of Stille, it is intriguing, yet boring at times.

In the opening track, “Dazed,” Adam’s soothing but distraught tenor is like a cry for help down a dark hole.  The song drags on towards the end, clocking the end at 11:28.  It is the longest but perhaps most interesting track on Stille.  The hypnotic guitar progressions and creepy whistling towards the end of “Dazed” is like a funeral march passing through.  “Masse” follows with its flurry of disturbing whispers and baritone moans, sounding like something out of Middle Earth.  It is reminiscent of Pink Floyd’s 1969 psychedelic experiment Ummagumma where the artists recorded all sorts of noises and mysterious messages.  “The Stoning” also has Pink Floyd-esque echoes, specifically in the vocals.  The song plays out like a scene out of a movie.  Adam’s raw and heart-felt storytelling channels the sorrow and desperation of Roger Waters and the lyrics are poignant in both language and drama. “I hear a man was stoned to death. I hear he drew his dying breath.  Drew his last sweet sticky breath.  Dropped down at their final swing…” “The Sky’s The Same” has a tribal undulating rhythm accompanied by the banging of a singular bongo throughout.  The backing vocal chants fuel the religious overtones of the song.  There is an overall sense of doom in this song, as well as throughout Stille.

According to the artist, Stille is a compilation of music written for theater and soundtracks while he spent time in Adelaide, Australia.  The tracks flow best when heard in the official track order, but the subject matter varies widely from song to song and gives the impression of being a collage of singles rather than a cohesive album.  Although the songs are extremely imaginative in sound and effect, they are not necessarily for commercial consumption.  The eclectic and new age sounds might be more fit for documentaries or short films.

The record is more a meditative collage of sound than actual “songs” in the traditional verse-chorus-bridge format.  When the songs are not sleepy, they are boring.  “Summer Afternoon”’s linear chord progression gets repetitive after awhile.  The philosophical expressions could have been more pronounced through a further exploration of melody and dynamics.  Fans of experimental folk and new age music might be intrigued and may want to explore Adam Hardcastle’s inner sanctum.  For those who are looking for more progressive folk music, look elsewhere.

Review by Mike Morgan

Michael Morgan, Reviews Adam Hardcastle, Stille

Omega and The Aspirin is a dance and trance experimental concept album.  With words sparingly used throughout the record, the focus of the disc is mainly on the mood generated by the build-up of layered and quirky synthesizer sounds that culminate into club-like hypnotics. The ambient and sometimes kaleidoscope-like dynamics make the songs on this album ideal for sci-fi soundtracks, late night club music, and fashion show catwalks.

Album opener “Sweet as Sugar” has a primal rhythm with its pelting drums and drowned-out vocals.  The song has a dual personality.  On one hand, it is a love song with impassioned vocals, but then on the other, it is also a set of new wave-like synths sounding as if they were sucked through a curly straw.  Both are sonically appealing on their own, but mixed together, are more antagonistic than synergistic.  It is unfortunate that the vocals were not the centerpiece of the song, (and get lost within the production) since lead singer, Cam, has a hypnotic and soothing monotone vocal, which could meld well with the song.

With heavy doses of bass and snare, the second song, “Jaffa,” is “winding-down-the-night” party music played when everyone has already gone home.  “Co-Define” has more airplay potential than the other songs due to its array of elements that play into its catchiness and appeal.  The repetitive and simple piano line, along with the Michael Hutchence-like (of INXS fame) vocal incantations are infectious and mysterious. “Carefully, Silently,” another crowd-pleaser, is enigmatic, with its whiny synths and “bloops-and-bleeps.”

The experimental tendencies of Omega and the Aspirin are front-and-center on “We Must Arm.” The focus of the song is a speech, along with synth beats sprinkled in the background.  The repetitive lyrics towards the end of the song, “This is a cold war.  This is a cold war.”, are more distracting than they are hypnotic.  The stark contrast of the propaganda-like speech compared to the trance-like dreaminess of the rest of the album is somewhat forgivable, due to the experimental nature of the record.  But it does leave the listener wondering why it was included.

Omega and The Aspirin has hints of potential throughout, but when it starts to dazzle, it also tends to fizzle into something less than what it was.  Even though “Critical Mind” matched the energy and hypnotics of “Co-Define,” vocals did not stand up to the song’s energetic and rhythmic impulses.  “Envy Free Reaction” is a great song in concept.  It has an uplifting and catchy melody, but would sound even better with a female vocal, rather than the drowned out vocals cast over it.

Omega and the Aspirin is reminiscent of Dirty Vegas (“Days Go By”), another band which also creates ambient and mysterious trance music.  For fans of dance and trance music this album might fall short.

Review by Mike Morgan

Michael Morgan, Reviews Cameron Ailiff, Omega and the Aspirin

Dance gem remixes abound on this quick shot disc of 7 club tracks from budding British artist, Candy Rose.  After listening to Candy Rose’s Meet You In The Club for the first time, there will never be a last.  It’s that hot. The first 3 tracks are a trifecta of dance music body blows.

The race car rhythm and airy chorus of “Hooked on You” is an energetic start to the record while the bullet-like back-beat and synth frenzy of “Just So You Know” rockets in from outer space. The third track, “You Are Everything,” the strongest song on the album, has so much infectious rhythm in it that if indie electro-dance DJs knew about this Latin dance slap in the face, they would be begging to remix it.

The songstress explores Latin flavors of meringue pianos on the grinder “You Are Everything” and composes a dance party with sonic urgency on “Stop Talking.” The latter song brings with it a girl-power force that echoes early No Doubt à la “Don’t Speak,” or Janet Jackson’s “Nasty Boys.”  Even though Ms. Rose tends to experiment with different dance rhythms on songs like “It’s You That I Love,” she doesn’t veer far from the core pop hooks that make the songs so appealing.  But don’t be mislead that she would appeal solely to the commercial masses; deeper listening reveals more.

Although the majority of tracks are in the same vein as commercial pop and dance radio, there are undercurrents of progressive dance in a couple of the songs. “Now I’m Gone” possesses a Middle Eastern sound that eventually peaks into a trance-like crescendo.  It’s songs like these that fall outside the terrestrial radio realm.  This is the area where Ms. Rose can break the mainstream dance club mold, much the same way Santigold has done in the hip-hop world.  If Candy can push the edges the same way she does on tracks like “You Are Everything” and “Now I’m Gone,” her music will carry with it not only commercial appeal, but brand new audiences.

Meet You In The Club is one of those albums that can be played straight through a gym workout or long car drive to somewhere far and intriguing. One part dance party queen, and another progressive dance club vixen, Ms. Rose has the pop goods and dance music chops to break through both commercial and indie underground success.  Fans of Katy Perry, Lady Gaga and Christina Aguilera should buy this record now.

Review by Mike Morgan

Michael Morgan, Reviews Candy Rose, Meet You In The Club

Country music has its share of hard rock crossovers.  Seventies bands, like The Eagles, saw much success fusing hard rock and country.  More recent acts like The Avett Brothers take the country sound to another level mixing it with frenetic rock rhythms, concocting a punkish aesthetic.  Los Angeles, CA band Helicopter fulfills the same prophecy as The Eagles and The Avett Brothers, while throwing in some pop and reggae.  It might come off as an ill attempt to be everything to everyone if they weren’t so damn good at it.  On their 2009 debut album, Flight Risk, the quintet, hailing from places as far away as the Philippines (guitarist/vocalist Bruce Makabenta) and New Zealand (co-founder, drummer, songwriter, engineer and producer, Matthew Moore), demonstrate their expansive appetite for Southern-style classic rock, carefully crafted guitar-driven pop, reggae, and alt-country.

The explosive ear-opener and album’s namesake, “Flight Risk,” could certainly be a play on the band’s potential to be searched at airports, given the wide range of backgrounds of each band member.   The thunderous claps of drums and grouty vocals of Stefano Capobianco simultaneously channel Lenny Kravitz during his “Are You Gonna Go My Way” period and a softer, yet equally cool, Johnny Rotten of Sex Pistols fame.   Each successive song introduces a new element to the Helicopter sound.  Johnny Kempt takes the helm on the second track, “When We Get Together,” offering up a refreshing southern rock twang, while retaining those swilling raw guitar licks and badgering drum booms.  If this track were around for airplay when “Easy Rider” was made, this song would have been perfect for those long motorcycle-rides down Route 66.

The album quickly eases off the beautiful raucous of hard rock into a bevy of country and pop love songs.  This could indeed be the one “risk” of Flight Risk.  Listeners could be confounded by the jolt of ballads, or, equally impressed by the band’s versatility.  The latter holds up more here in this case, since they tend not to overdo anything they perform. The musicianship and detailed production work on each track shows making Flight Risk a risk worth taking.  There is just the right amount of attitude with the Joe Cocker-esque growls of “Broken.”  Then there is the square love song, “Smile,” with its bright hooks and fearless acoustic rhythms.  The sonically explorative nature of  “Strangers” gives way to a dark intrigue unseen anywhere else on Flight Risk. It is these unexpected and complex moments on the record that make this album interesting and worth listening to many times over.

Helicopter’s armada of musical styles is a result of their diverse backgrounds.  Four of the five band members that write the songs, each have their own distinct lyrical voice.  The Eagles had their Frey, Henley and Walsh.  Helicopter’s quartet of songwriters unravels a brilliant musical collage of country, hard rock, reggae and pop.  Helicopter’s Flight Risk would fit well on the record shelf of fans that love Eric Clapton, The Avett Brothers and The Allman Brothers.

Review by Michael Morgan

Michael Morgan, Reviews Flight Risk, Helicopter

An artist that plays virtually every instrument on their record demonstrates more than just versatility and talent, but also an inexorable passion for crafting something perfect and singularly beautiful. Michael Lee’s Face Forward showcases the artist’s virtuosity, especially on piano and guitar. The artist’s smooth and heart aching vocals, are one part Richard Marx (sans the nasal whine), and one part George Michael (with the pout and crooning whisper).  At times, Michael also channels 70s soft rock and 90s metal into his repertoire.  Because of this convergence of influences, Michael’s songs span the genre spectrum.  The pop balladry of album closer “That Day” which gives a nod to Kelly Clarkson’s hit song “Breakaway,” and the feel-good country harmonies of “Distant Future,” (the highlight of the album) are sure to be crowd pleasers.

But don’t type-caste Mr. Lee as a country pop balladeer.  His arsenal of sound also includes shades of metal in those pop frames.  While tracks like “In The Picture” conjures up the ‘Smooth Sounds of The 70s’ a la Seals and Crofts, Michael’s pent-up (and perhaps, self-indulgent) thirst for dual harmony and guitar-driven rock a-la-Alice In Chains rears its head on “Never Enough Time.” It starts off with a hypnotic Middle Eastern guitar riff, and eventually builds up into a cacophonous mash of guitar power chords, charming the snake out of its basket.  This is a far cry from the country and pop quips prevalent throughout Face Forward.  To some listeners, these diversions may push the boundaries (and blur the album’s focus) of Face Forward a little too far.

As strongly as the musicianship and melodies stand out, the lyrics don’t always fulfill the promise made by the latter. At times, they border on cliché.  Songs like “That Day” hand out trite sayings like “All that is lost has become found. Don’t let it fade away.” In the bridge of “In The Picture,” the singer croons about losing his lover to another man: “I don’t want to lose. I don’t want to lose you.” Fortunately, the silky whisper of Michael’s voice, strikingly similar to George Michael’s, make the clichéd refrains forgivable.

Less memorable tracks on the album, like the hook-less “Despite,” the longest track on the album (clocking in at 6:23), has a mid-tempo drive and never quite takes off melodically. Even though it may not be radio ready, “Despite” does showcase Michael’s fortitude and willingness to take musical risks. It is filled with intricate guitar licks that draw musical lines on the same page as Rush’s Alex Lifeson. Michael, once again, demonstrates mastery of the axe.

At best, Face Forward is a showcase album, exploring Michael’s passion for writing guitar-driven jams and piano ballads.  The many faces of Face Forward may confound more than they pleasantly surprise.  Fans of 80’s heart throb Richard Marx, Shania Twain, and 70s AM soft rock will enjoy most of Face Forward’s slow-burners and sweet sounds.

Review by Michael Morgan

Michael Morgan, Reviews Face Forward, Michael Lee

DJ Salty Flavor’s latest album, Keeping It Salty, features a fusion of lo-fi, ambient, electronic dance and trance music. There are a few rap tirades that often feel like the DJ is trying too hard (”Help Wanted” Remix)  and one that is so in your face that contagion is greater than the dislike.(”Hot or Cold” Remix).  Success is greater with the lo-fi sleepy rhythms scattered throughout the  album.

The world of remixes is a vast one. So making memorable ones is an even greater challenge for a DJ. It’s a balance of the track that the DJ selects along with the amount of originality put into it. If it’s a very popular track to begin with and the remix does not live up to it, then the remix might be seen as a buzz-kill. On the otherr hand if the remix puts a new spin on a universally loved track then the reinvented song may be embraced by listeners. It’s a fine line that DJs must walk when selecting their remix “patients” (or in some cases, victims).

The first track (or “patient”) on the album, is a remix called “Undignified”. This cheesy euro-techno-polka romp has a  hooky chorus, goofy playful synth sounds and a piano interlude that adds a layer to the much needed single dimensioned song. The song reminds me of  the one (the name eludes me) they used to play at bar mitzvah and sweet sixteens. Like someone smashing something in your face, it’s slightly jarring, and a bit too much on the ears.

The second track “Blip Your Body” sets the lo-fi tone for the rest of the album. It starts off with a dusty beat and several measures into the song starts adding beeps and blips a la 80s video games.  Blip reminded me of  Canadian punk-techno duo Crystal Castles latest release which featured similar bleeps and vintage video game fare. The song goes off into some hopeful corners but never quite takes off.

Two of my favorite tracks were “Mr Blister,” and “Why (Remix)”.  These stand out because of the detailed treatments the DJ gives them.  Blister starts off with a lone hypnotic drumbeat, morphing into a cacophonic stupor of trumpet synths. The natural flow of changes fall into place like Venga blocks.  “Why” begins with a booming fuzzy guitar and pounding beat. It has unassuming orchestral flourishes and a simple melody. The bass synths lined throughout the song add a strong backdrop. Why is definitely a good party song.

Apart from the lo-fi and techno, Salty Flavor peppers up things with some rap remixes. “Hot or Cold (Remix) ” fuses hip hop and techno together making for a soupy club remix. The repetition of the line “Are ya hot. Are ya cold” was a bit irritating after awhile. Once the raps kick in DJ Salty Flavor peppers the song with clavicle-sounding percussive missives. Then by the time, the second rapper chimes in, his claps steer the song through some dance-run threads. What makes the chorus tolerable towards the end of the song is the DJ’s cool and sneaky changes. He mixes it up and makes it interesting.

“Supernova (remix)” was another one of those memorable songs. The hypnosis of the piano intro, elusive beats hidden behind silence and dodging the piano lines. The layers of synths inject more shade into the remix. Atmospheric, dramatic and spiritual, this remix had hints of optimism towards the end as the piano lifted the rest of the song to a humble conclusion. It reminded me of some of Moby’s piano electronic works, especially from his Play album.

I can recommend this album to those of you into lo-fi and funky electronic music, but would not recommend it as much for its hip-hop rap dimensions. Lovers of LCD Soundsystem might be turned off by the lack of punk-ness but those into Moby may enjoy DJ Salty’s flair for detail and ambient changes.

Reviewed By Mike Morgan

Michael Morgan, Reviews DJ Salty, Keeping It Salty

Who says there is anything wrong with a good ‘ole fashion love song? Love is the center of every great pop song. It makes us cry, smile, dance and uncover things about ourselves hidden beneath the surface.  Oftentimes we need to spend time alone in isolation in order to dig deep inside ourselves to discover such love and beauty. Such is the case for alt-rock country artist, Shane Lamb, who spent many a waking hour by himself uncovering territory in his musical craft to bring us his latest work of art. The poignantly titled LP Disengage talks of love, hope and loss: all of the things embodied in the American spirit.  Shane’s story-telling and sweet Jackson Browne-like vocal pair well with the rocky guitars and brass backdrops scattered throughout Disengage. The alt-rock sounds reminded me of an old 90s favorite record Tomorrow The Green Grass by alt-rock country crooners, The Jayhawks. It was the first kind of contemporary country music that was accessible to someone like myself, who is not a big fan of country. The rock rhythms, laidback feel and relevant songwriting made the music matter to me more than any Garth Brooks tune I had drank a Bud to in college. Shane’s youthful croon and edgy country sound make this relevant and refreshing to me as a non-fan of traditional country music.

“Free,” the opening track, is one of the strongest with pop promise, and hence, one of the more accessible.  The hook also comes quickly in this song.  The guitars have a southern alt-country twang painting rollicking lines, along with the sax and rest of the bluesy brass swagger.   Its uplifting melody and rolling lyrics remind me of Neil Young’s folk rock a la After the Gold Rush, but with a more contemporary sound.   The fast romp of “Someday” remind you that it’s not a simple country pop song. Its sense of immediacy urges you on, especially during the chorus:  “Someday I’ll get to the point when there are no mistakes. Just choices and chances we take as we try to find a way.”.

But it’s the haunting beauty and uneasy directness of  the title track that makes this good album a great one. The lyrical and vocal depth had my “Neil Young bells” ringing once again. The track showcases Shane at his vocal peak on the album. The airy and shadowy pitch of the verses along with the howling choruses show a range unmatched by the rest of the album. Shane’s influences (Neil Young, Ryan Adams, Bob Dylan) are not worn on his sleeves, but in his heart. Indeed, this is where artistry should be sheltered.   “On My Mind” is balanced by its originality and simple melody with lyric worn (this time) right on the sleeve. The slow lovemaking tempo and country flavor makes this the kind of love song marriage proposals are made of!  The sweet lyrical simplicity of loving someone for who they are in “I Would” pours out so effortlessly, combined with the sinuous rock progressions pulling Shane’s voice down from a smooth whisper to a mountain climbing cry.  Once again, the characteristic country guitars and song dynamics synchronize with grace and elevated hope.

Disengage embodies the kind of rock that embraces all of the things great about American folk rock music: love, freedom and the hunger for something else. I highly recommend this album for those who are obsessed with Tom Petty, The Jayhawks, Wilco and Neil Young. This album will not let you down!

Reviewed By Michael Morgan

Michael Morgan, Reviews Disengage, Shane Lamb

Hearing Shyama with virgin ears, four words came to mind: outer-space-folk-cowboy.  Perhaps it’s the poetry-laced pictures he paints with his words combined with the smooth bass croak (hear the refrain ‘my Lordy lord, my Lordy lord’) on one of the stronger tracks and album opener “Against the Grain” of his voice reminiscent of Iggy Pop. But then as you transcend further into the 12 track record, Nine Moons Walking, you hear the other side of his vocal range breaching tenor. Who is this outer space existential cowboy-philosopher anyway?

Shyama, whose real name is Alfred Lawrence, did stints in groups; Acoustic Black and then Incast, starting back in the early nineties, playing what is described as goth punk around local pubs in the Melbourne, Australia area.   Growing tired of this scene and with the death of Kurt Cobain, Mr. Lawrence had an epiphany and rid of all his worldly possessions; effectively setting himself free, homeless, and then institutionalized in the process. Eventually, he found a place for himself in society and began writing his own journey through his music.  Hence, his concept album, Nine Moons Walking.   

To say that Nine Moons Walking “ain’t no party music, ain’t no foolin around” (to borrow a phrase), would be an understatement. It really is meant for solo consumption. The pensive instrumentals like “Tomorrow’s Yesterday” carry with them a lonesome feeling, a personal quest for God. “Valley of Death” carries this quest further into the record. The domesticity of “Menial Man” tries to find meaning and solace in the banality of life with its country/folk saddled guitars and repetitive backbeat and refrain: “let’s give a hand to the menial man cos he does the jobs that no one else can.”

A high point in this 12-track quest is “Chemical Arrest.” Its timing and mood in the record reminds me of  Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” when Pink awakens in his apartment and starts thrashing his worldly goods around his apartment; a restless stare into the face of Mortality. Another burst of sunshine book-ended by instrumental interludes “Goodness,Passion,Ignorance parts 1 and 2″ is “Sonic Aura” with its melodic optimism and crystalline acoustic whims. “Inertia” is Shyama’s folk rap on politics, religion, discrimination and the like: “Ignorance is bliss until it gets to this.” 

There is a new age sound that I find particularly appealing about Shyama’s music. It’s definitely the combination of classical instruments; use of what sounds like harpischord on tracks like “Goodness, Passion and Ignorance” Parts 1 and 2, along with his crystalline electro-acoustic rings that are prevalent throughout the record. The introspective bent to the songs also gives the record a psychedelic feel. There aren’t really any pop gems to mine on this record. In many ways, Nine Moons Walking is almost too eclectic in terms of its sonic originality and twisty instrumental interludes to be considered for pop airplay, but this should not distract the weary and curious listener looking for original work, soothing sounds with new age edges and psychedlic rings.        

Reviewed By Michael Morgan

Michael Morgan, Reviews Nine Moons Walking, Shyama

The debut album by brothers Ryan and John Hughes titled The Illness Project takes you to another place. Whether you’re on a long ride home or taking a nap lazing around, this album’s lovely-crafted experimental-acoustic-pop will do the soul good.  The ambient tempos layered with electronic sounds and acoustic pop textures make the record one to listen to many times to hear each layer and pick up previously missed interludes. The combo of Ryan’s prominent vocals along with John’s backing drumbeats and samples, at times waltz together and other times brush shoulders. The latter gives the record an experimental vibe adding to its intrigue and appeal.

“Softer“ digresses into an experimental acoustic ride with a hypnotic and harmonizing refrain: If I could I would trade my life for a softer heart. Another mid to up-tempo track to watch out for is “Something Bigger “ showcasing Ryan’s vocals which have the sincere textures of a John Mayer when he whispers, and the yearning croon of a Rob Thomas when his vocals dig into cries.  “Tuscany“, a dreamy ballad about loneliness, breaks up the experimental nature of the album. The beautiful arrangement of Ryan’s vocals and the piano and organ lines simply work to their advantage.  “Among the Birch“, has some memorable pop qualities with its minor progressions. The second half of the song includes harmonies which bring the song to a solemn crescendo, eventually dying in a wallop of drumbeats, but somehow the song’s pop leanings are deterred by the lack of a hook.  One of the highlights on the album for me was “1.24.”  This ballad showcases the singer’s voice with a lone acoustic guitar and his dominant vocal.

After several listens one wonders where the album’s namesake Illness Project came from. Perhaps it is derived from the record’s introspective journey of emotions.  As great as these guys can play and sing, the introspection of the record never really made me quite connect with the music and lyrics.  As beautiful as Ryan’s voice might be, the artist is so wound up in his own emotions, as if stuck looking at himself in a mirror of pain. This mirror is never reflected back to the listener so that we can empathize. 

Sometimes music doesn’t need lyrics to stand on its own. Songs on this album carry very strong melodic qualities.  At times, it seems as if the arrangements really carried the songs throughout the entire album, and lyrics were sprinkled afterthoughts.   I could imagine many of these songs being soundtracks to character’s lives on nighttime television shows like The O.C., or Gossip Girl.  (Perhaps having these songs as soundtracks would fill in that missing layer of empathy that the listener craves?)

If their debut album is any indication, the Hughes brothers should be able to take their gorgeous arrangements and electronic artistry to that next level and add more lyrical conviction around their introspective sensibilities. If you’re a fan of MatchBox 20’s pop ballads, you’ll enjoy this one minus the experimental interludes prevalent throughout the album.

 Reviewed By Michael Morgan

Michael Morgan, Reviews John Hughes, Ryan Hughes, The Illness Project

To say that chi-town-born rapper Primo The Cinematic is of the Kanye West Chicago hip hop-scene ilk would just be plain wrong.  Primo’s ambitious double-CD debut, Contemporary Classic is a nod to the golden era of rap when it was less about appealing to the mainstream and more about survival and the search for identity through eclectic sampling, experimental sounds and stream of consciousness witticisms (of which Primo has plenty).  A more accurate ancestry for Primo would be Erik B. and Rakim, or Run DMC.  His rhymes are autobiographical collages, looking both inward and out at the world around him, but always through his own lens.

Contemporary Classic plays out like a sequential series of movie scenes; where the opener is entitled “The Invitation,” and the players in this collage of songs remind the listener towards the end of the first volume that there is more to come with “To Be Continued…”  The songs, for the most part, contain jazz piano riffs and sometimes a saxophone or a trumpet lick sample, while Primo goes to work with his word-smithing wit.  Songs like “Just Breezin’” with its 70s R&B samplings are reminiscent of Will Smith’s “Getting Jiggy With It,” and stand out as radio-play potentials with its 70s lounge-funk back-beat and care-free groove, accompanied by Primo’s quick-rap poetry: ‘Coastin over oceans and everlastin sky. Like time, I’m just passin by’.  Unlike many rappers who tend to “eat” their lyrics up while they are rapping, simultaneously losing the listeners (who only then have the beats to latch onto), Primo goes to great lengths to enunciate his words so listeners can get it.  Another standout track is “Sum Ol’ Slick Sh*t,” a 4-minute song about the rapper and his posse, conveying his unique persona as an artist unlike those other rappers: ‘I’ll make sure you remember me. I’m everything you kids you wish to pretend to be’.

Although Primo’s debut has many bright spots, there were times when some of the songs could have used some bridges to break up the monotony of the raps.  On Vol. II, the song “Swagger,” had such a strong blues feel to it that at times, you were hoping for it to diverge into some blues-riffed bridge.  Adding these touches could have helped break some of the tempo-monotony throughout the album. 

For such an ambitious effort, Primo had more than a little help from his “musical family” known as The Embassy Click.  He feels that since the golden era of rap, between the mid-80s and early 90s when rap and hip-hop was still untainted by mainstream commercialism; somewhere along the way, “the love and respect of the art has been lost.”  Contemporary Classic attempts and suceeds to recapture that golden era through lyrical wit and rootsy-record-scratchin rap that your parents grew up on.

Reviewed By Michael Morgan

Michael Morgan, Reviews Primo Brooks, Primo The Cinematic