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Throughout December, CHIRP Radio presents its volunteers’ top albums of 2021. Our next list is from volunteer Patrick Masterson.
Per usual, my year-end list below is strictly Chicago. Hopefully you find and enjoy something new.
I don't know why it bothers me so much that Soul Trap received such a muted reception upon its release, but even down the darker alleys of Rap City where guys like Ka and Boldy James and Roc Marciano (who guests on this record!) are talked about in hushed tones on cracked pavement and extended metaphors are parsed like the Voynich manuscript, Tremaine Johnson still doesn't seem to be getting his due.
That needs to change; nobody served up a better two-way game as both emcee and producer than Tree this year, and I'd put this record up against almost any other project the genre had to offer in 2021. His grizzled delivery has come to feel like a worn-in sweater over the years, his sample-based beats served up like piping fresh soup, his topics earthen, relatable. None of that changed for Soul Trap and it is — consequently, maybe — his finest full-length. I'm getting too old to make too much noise on a fellow adult's behalf about the lack of respect here, but I'm not too old to say you really owe yourself a listen. Don't be foolish.
One day, years from now when our wrinkles and ailments give way and our corporeal forms finally fail us and our children's children, people we'll barely know and never understand, have inherited Congress and everyone is their own brand with their own Discord with every body part a hashtag our children's children's children study by way of NFTs and confused irony and pockmarked jargon corporations will typically, hurriedly be trying to monotize — in sum, a distant future further from the moment in which you're reading this than you or I could possibly be able to comprehend — we as a society will still be catching up to the music of Jonn Wallen.
For the second year in a row, he put out practically a full-length a month; for the second year in a row, it was all dizzyingly good. I've listed December's Zombie Head Bowling League because there's a synth line that sounds like the guitar from mewithoutYou's "My Exit, Unfair" on "nzumbi/roomba" and some Daft Punk robotics on "Undead BFF/Living Cadaver" and a lot of other beautiful sounds I'm... well, look, I've listed Zombie Head Bowling League because it's the one I have on as I write this. It could've easily been Pluot Aprium or Character Sketches, but that's part of the magic: Every Oui Ennui record you're listening to is the best one. Mostly I'm just glad he was the first show I saw after the pandemic at Compound Yellow this summer. What a treasure. Yes, maybe one fine day we'll catch up to him. Maybe.
Every good thing I had to say about Damon Locks and Black Monument Ensemble regarding 2019's Where Future Unfolds could just as easily be carried over to Now, which is only notable because unlike the live concert capture of Where Future Unfolds from Garfield Park Conservatory that felt more considered,
Now was effectively a jam session (though, and this also seems worth noting, the group was "safely in the garden behind Experimental Sound Studio" — who knows what power the flowers hold?). Its rhythm is a little different, its tracklisting a little more erratic on the clock, but what's clearest about this sophomore album is what remains steadfast: the energy, the emotion, the expansiveness, the otherworldly sensitivity between and among musicians. Not sure how else to say it, but this might've been the most human record I heard this year.
Calvin Fredrickson (guitarist and vocalist for fellow locals sewingneedle) described Lilac's self-titled debut as "a scalding blast of bidet water" on this album's Bandcamp page, which is a thing I regretted reading immediately and now pass on to haunt you, too. (Thanks, Calvin!) But man, what a wonderfully visceral description for some sour, filthy noise-rock, the kind of thing I was a little nervous for a minute we'd collectively agreed to stop making.
Are you in a bad mood? Do you headbang to exorcise the demons? Does the sound of gnarled guitar, scuzzy bass and headache-inducing drums have the effect of a muscle relaxer? Have you simply been missing The Jesus Lizard? Well, buddy, have I got a fetid flower for you. It's disgusting. And amazing.
After a few quiet years out of the dance music media spotlight punctuated only by DJ Taye's still excellent Still Trippin', footwork had a banner year in 2021. Most people seemed to gravitate to Jana Rush's Painful Enlightenment (understandably; it was a great record and "Moanin'" in particular was arguably footwork's finest accomplishment of the year... but more on that in a minute) and RP Boo's Established! (also understandably; one of footwork's originators dropping an album is a big deal even if it did turn out to basically be house), but in the bundle of Planet Mu records that landed as summer turned to fall, something about DJ Manny's Signals in My Head called out to me that little bit more.
It wasn't just the eye-catching font on the cover; Manny's channeling some Fourth World and deep house energy on songs like "You All I Need" or "Smoke 'n' Fade Away" in addition to the hardcore continuum on "Good Love" and more trad footwork moves on "That Thang" and "At First Site." Like Young Smoke's Kryogenic Substances, Signals in My Head reaches for something spacier and nails it. The press materials say he lives in New York with Sucia! now, but don't let 'em fool you: This one's Chicago through and through.
The way Lexi Goddard and Chris Coleslaw harmonize "It's a dream to me now" as opener "Blue Raspberry" wraps is the sort of moment where you have to check yourself up as a listener, rewinding to make sure what you heard was exactly as on the nose as you thought it was. Tobacco City, USA is littered with little cosmic country debris like this, a beautifully composed record straddling the line between communal honky tonk you'd hear at Carol's and dreamy private press '70s country LPs that were a little too weird for Nashville.
All it takes is hearing the right record in the right place at the right time; "Never on My Mind" was like that for me, but the whole rest of this album could, I'm sure of it, be the same for you. Bonus: As their follow-up Lagniappe Sessions EP (featuring a Jimmy Buffett cover(?!)) showed, there's a whole lot of low-grade octane left in Tobacco City's tank. Fill up the truck and hop in the bed — this is a ride you'll want to see through.
"Innocent passage" is defined as "the right of all ships to engage in continuous and expeditious surface passage through the territorial sea and archipelagic waters of foreign coastal states in a manner not prejudicial to its peace, good order or security." I had no idea "innocent passage" was a thing before Olivia Block's latest transmission from beyond the organ, Organelle, tapes, field recordings and Mellotron that form Innocent Passage's undulations, but that's why she's faculty at two universities I could never afford and I'm just a student forever.
Block has been in this game for more than two decades now, so it's no surprise these six songs (delivered by way of the ever reliable Room40 imprint) are as well thought out, as seamlessly integrated as they are. Want to learn something? Listen to Olivia Block. Closer.
I'm still a little miffed I missed Purelink perform mere steps from my house at Podlasie Club in October, but a) I think that was the weekend I was at Dollywood for a wedding, so I can't be too mad, b) the group threw their set up on SoundCloud shortly after anyway, and c) "Bliss / Swivel" was getting plenty of mileage in my headphones at home regardless. Following appearances on Naive, Lillerne Tapes and Chicago Research, the trio (and let's give them their individual due: Concave Reflection, kindtree and Millia Rage are behind Purelink's Voltron) dropped this dubwise, self-titled two-tracker. You didn't need Philip Sherburne to tell you it was great, but an endorsement like that sure never hurts and if the secret isn't already out as a result, it will be shortly. Judging by what they've put together so far, though, there's nothing to fear: Purelink have it all under control.
Oh, you thought you were getting out of this list without a Hausu Mountain appearance? Fat chance. I've always had a soft spot for the all-in weirdness of Hausu's haus band, but this 2019 Good Willsmith performance from Avondale's Sleeping Village is an intriguing twist on the usual studio fare, straight off the boards and into your brains from our fair city's finest Dali burnouts, Jodorowsky rockers and portmanteau (M)aximalists. As far as live efforts go, it's a pretty clean recording for the kind of tangled webs they weave and you're either gonna be on board with Good Willsmith's clatter at the edges of vision or you're really, really not. Just know that if it's the latter, you're the person everyone's trying to avoid at parties.
So, quick word about that "footwork's finest accomplishment of the year" thing in the DJ Manny blurb above: "Moanin'" was the single best new song in the style, but Traxman's 18-minute "Yea Ba Be" on Unreleased Footwork Trackz Vol 6 2008-2018 broke new ground for what I thought the sound was capable of, suspending its trance-like energy three times as long as footwork's longest tracks in a genre where two minutes is the norm.
Thing is, that wasn't even part of Cornelius Ferguson's best release; in a year where those pushing at the limits of what technically constitutes "footwork" (see also: the Planet Mu-endorsed trio listed above) rubbed shoulders with classicists on their own in the Bandcamp wilderness without Euro money to lend a higher profile (DJ Taye's Glassed and everything DJ Corey put out this year, for starters), genre innovator Traxman was, in his own way, quietly returning to footwork's origins and stepping back further still via juke with these edits of Dance Mania staples. Familiar names like Jammin Gerald and DJ Deeon form the core of the source material, but Traxman isn't aiming to break ankles with this stuff, just lending tighter vocal edits and a little extra treble. It's house at its core and therefore not unlike RP Boo's more heralded Established!, but its rude rawness feels closer in spirit to where these guys came from. Dance. Work. Pump it. Hit it.
Next entry: CIHRP Radio Best of 2021: Ronald Pagan
Previous entry: CHIRP Radio Best of 2021: Matt Garman