ROCK'S PATH FORWARD BY: Ian Sherry 3/22/2023 HEADLINE: Rock is no longer the most popular genre. I could go on and on about the downward trend of the former super-genre. However, to be prompt I’ll simplify it to this: after being the dominant genre of the 70s and 80s and the 90s to an extent, mainstream rock sat too comfortably headed into the age of computers, autotune, and one-trick production brought on by the 2000s. The result is two decades of uninspired pop-rock (a real and pitiful genre in my opinion) and an experimental rock reaction, which often tries too hard to be different and not enough to be good. I could name a lackluster band like Imagine Dragons here, but I won’t because I’m a nice guy. This is all, of course, generalization, but the rising consensus is that rock is in serious trouble. Everyday the internet's ‘hot takes’ become more condemning towards the genre, with many declaring it dead. These claims gain credibility through validation from well-respected critics like Anthony Fantano. Fantano is not anti-rock, he’s realistic. Not only are these opinions reasonable, they are fairly true. Rock’s days as the number one genre are done for the foreseeable future and for good reason. For a long time rock was associated with pop, but pop is often just a reflection or variation of the most prolific and replicable style of music at the moment. So, with pop shifted in a non-rock direction, rock has become limited by its lack of reputable neighboring genres. However, rock is not dead as a genre, and, while I could point to countless contemporary artists and projects, I choose one man: Jack White. If I could have a conversation with the genre of rock I would request the following: steer away from pop (it will find you), dip into other contemporary genres, and don’t be afraid to draw from wherever you want. In 2022, Jack White did all of that and more. His two albums Fear Of The Dawn and Entering Heaven Alive cover all the bases and showcase his mega-talented studio presence. Between the two of them they display aspects of folk, hip-hop, and a plethora of rock sub-genres; I’ve even picked up on some reggae influence in songs like “Esophobia” and “All Along The Way”. There’s also a wide variety of emotions and themes, something White has employed since his White Stripes’ days. I know that all sounds fantastic, so allow me to elaborate. “Taking Me Back” is the first song on Fear Of The Dawn and “Taking Me Back (Gently)” is the last song on Entering Heaven Alive. Often artists will give you two versions of one song on the same album, with rap you may get a remix or instrumental version and with other genres, artists will often tack on an acoustic version. What White did here is less common. He took the same song lyrics and some of the bones, and stripped everything else, rebuilding it nearly from scratch. The original is a hard rocking loud track that leads into Fear Of The Dawn perfectly. It sets the pace of the album and introduces some of the tools he’ll use throughout it. My favorite is this sputtering guitar that cuts overtop the instrumental intermittently in this song and some others on the album. It seems like his equivalent of a record scratch and it brings energy every time it's used, breaking down layers of instrumentals that would’ve been overly dense otherwise. “Taking Me Back (Gently)” is much simpler. The rhythm is slightly different and the instrumental is more relaxed without killing the energy of the track. While it’s less of a standout in the scope of the entire album, it is a really enjoyable song with an energetic violin and a lengthy instrumental break that entertains and provides breathing room that the original version lacked. By including these two songs, and placing them on either end of the albums, White bookends his 2022 releases and puts an undeniable emphasis on the diversity between the two. He also showcases the kind of energy each album possesses, so if you’re deciding which to listen to first, I would suggest starting with these tracks to help you decide. “I’ve Got You Surrounded (With My Love)” is my pick for the best song on Entering Heaven Alive. It is a fantastic groove that uses a heavy bassline to give the track pace and depth. Over the top, White layers keyboard and a buzzy guitar as well as vocals that sound like they’re in the other room (in a good way). All these elements are mixed perfectly to create a unique atmosphere complete with well timed instrumental breaks. It is a 4:25 minute song that feels like two minutes, which is a great sign. A big reason for that is the song’s structure. There are technically two verses, with only two lines each, and two bridges, as well as several variations on the catchy chorus that works as a transition between unique instrumental breaks. What stands out when listening to these albums is Jack White’s creative abilities in the studio, but “I’ve Got You Surrounded (With My Love)” is a songwriting clinic. One of the biggest complaints about rock recently is its inability, or more accurately, its tendency, not to branch out into other genres. On “Hi-De-Ho”, featuring Q-Tip, White takes that step outside the confines of traditional rock stylings without departing from his aesthetic. The track opens with an impressive intro from that same buzzy electric guitar followed by a sample of Cab Calloway’s “Hi-De-Ho Man”. After about 1:20 of what can only be described as confusion, the baseline drops in and so does Q-Tip. He just flows over the looped baseline while drums roll over the top. Simple, but effective. Then White joins in on the bridge for some moaning vocals, that mainly serves to cut the track before it gets too repetitive, before riding out on the same catchy looped beat. It’s a fun song with lots for a listener to easily unpack, and on top of that, I enjoyed the Q-Tip feature which is frankly unusual. “Into The Twilight” is my favorite song on Fear Of The Dawn. It has the wailing guitar of “Taking Me Back” and the energy of “Hi-De-Ho”. It jumps in with another great baseline, a gentle piano riff, and that same guitar sputter. The vocals are kept to a minimum and the focus is on the rising and falling synths and various soundbytes that White weaves in. Brief samples of The Manhattan Transfer are twisted and woven throughout, being used to cut through the heavy guitar and replace the need for verses or bridges. On the way to the conclusion of the song the entire instrumental is torn down before being built up layer by layer. The chorus repeats one more time and it rides out on what feels like a fun improvised keyboard. But, nothing is improvised in this song. It is perfectly mixed and cut, showing a level of expertise Jack White seems to always have in his back pocket. Listening to an artist like Jack White forces me to understand I belong on this end of the music business. Because, I can’t fathom doing what he does in the studio; a depressing thought that is often washed away immediately by pure sonic pleasure. White, to me, should be the prototype for a genre that desperately needs innovation. His ability to involve traditionally genre-specific techniques without leaving his own stylistic comfort zone might be unique to him, but his willingness to try it shouldn’t be. Rock is not dead, but it needs help. In 2022, whether he meant to or not, Jack White gave the genre what it needed. It’s up to his peers to follow suit.

Coverage Vol. I 12/2/23 BY: IAN SHERRY Cover songs are one of my favorite music industry phenomena. When done well, cover artists pay homage to the original song while offering their own spin or twist. Sometimes they see massive success, surpassing the original, such as Aretha Franklin’s “R espect” , Johnny Cash’s “Hurt” , Chaka Khan’s “I Feel For You” , and I could go on. One of my favorite exercises is digging through versions of a song that’s been covered over and over, and picking the best version. You can often find great performances by legendary artists that you didn’t even know existed. I always seem to find at least one. Would you like to try one with me? The Beatle s are one of the most covered artists of all time. For my first in a forthcoming series of articles, I felt it would be fitting to start with a Beatles original: “Got To Get You Into My Life” . One of the bigger songs off their culturally essential Revolver, this track has settled into an interesting niche, like much of the album. The cinematic instrumentals sit in back with a more restrained vocal in front that branches out on the chorus. I heard someone call it The Beatles’ Motown song. In short, it’s a song with great bones and lots of moving parts, making it an enticing candidate for covers. MENTIONS Chicago (Live in 75) - This is a fun live performance, and while it’s well done, they play it fairly straight. It doesn’t separate itself from any live Beatles or McCartney version. Joe Pesci- I only mentioned this because it’s crazy to hear such a prolific rapper branch out. There's lots of ‘ohs’ and ‘heys’ to be had here - if you’re into that kind of thing. Daniel Johnson- Johnston’s awkward low quality performances h ave touched many people. He thrives in a raw emotional space, but sometimes he can be grating, and unfortunately this cover is one of those instances. Blood Sweat & Tears- It pains me to rank this band within the ‘Mentions’ instead of slotting them above the Beatles original. Blood Sweat & Tears scratches a very specific big band/raw vocal itch for me. They often elevate songs with their arrangements and instrumentation, but this time they didn’t do quite enough to surpass the original for me to justify bumping them up into the Top Four. TOP FOUR I can’t explain why four is the right number, especially as a believer in the rule of three. Maybe I just want to be different. Lucky for me, this time around, the top four are a step above. NUMBER FOUR The Beatles, 1966 Yes it’s the original, and that certainly counts for something. In fact, if it weren’t the original it might have slipped out of the Top Four, which may happen at some point in this series. But not this time because th e original is a creative masterpiece. A massive song with room to get bigger, the Beatles really nailed it instrumentally. However, I have an issue with the vocal performance: the energy and tone feel a bit meek in comparison to their backing. McCartney elevates his vocals for the chorus, but it feels a bit sudden. While the initial surprise factor pays off the first time around, you only hear The Beatles for the first time once. Did they do anything wrong? Not necessarily. This is just the Revolver sound in a nutshell. It strikes a unique balance between all of what makes The Beatles great, but in a semi-chaotic way. That organized chaos is responsible for the large number of fans that choose Revolver as their top Beatles album. However, I’ve always preferred the cleanness of Abbey Road, and my next pick reflects that. But, I have a final note: The Beatles are so good, this song included, that I have to argue against them in order to justify them sitting anywhere but #1. NUMBER THREE Dave Koz And Friends Summer Horns, 2013 When you talk about covers, you want the artist to elevate the song and clean up some missteps the original artist may have taken, such as the Beatles safe vocals. I don’t listen to much instrumental music, and this isn’t the only instrumental cover out there, but this one really stands out. Although it’s difficult to strike a balance between the vocal arrangement and backing instrumentation on a purely instrumental song like this, Koz’s cover has a remedy that elevates the song: just add more horns! This same sentiment is shared by the group occupying the top slot, but the pure woodwind firepower on this track is unmatched. Instrumental music can be boring to some, but thi s energized cover couldn’t possibly bore anyone. Check it out. NUMBER TWO Ella Fitzgerald, 1969 Nobody claims songs like powerhouse Black female vocalists of a certain era. Nina Simone, Etta James, Aretha Franklin, and of course, Ella Fitzgerald. Incorporating many of the same elements as The Beatles, Fitzgerald plays it as close to the original as anyone on this list, but her subtle changes set this 1969 cover apart. Her version opens with a subdued and simplified instrumental approach, making it easier to execute her clean jazz sound above the slightly chaotic arrangement of the original version. The instrumentation dances through her verses throughout, keeping the song upbeat, simple and clean. Then Fitzgerald elevates vocally and the music follows suit, rising to a crescendo at the high point of the hook. She yells ‘Got to get you into my life’ as the horns and background vocalists swell in unison. After the high point, the elevated sound continues, as she vocally freestyles through the final fade. She takes full ownership of the song by redesigning the builds and adding her signature vocal flavor. I can’t ask for more than that. NUMBER ONE Earth Wind & Fire, 1978 I suspect this is the second best known version of the song (behind Joe Pesci, of course). This isn’t just the best version of this song, it’s one of their best tracks ever. Earth Wind & Fire is one of the greatest American bands of all time, so that says a lot. I heard this version when I was a kid and didn’t even realize it was the same song until years later because it is so far elevated. The horns are clean, their signature background vocals are perfect, the addition of the stand-alone electric guitar is genius, the bass is more present than any other version, even their swagger elevates the song. Maurice White also outsings everyone on this list with sustained superior vocal range, rising up with the instrumental instead of joining it for brief splashes on the chorus. This was a track waiting to be done perfectly, and nobody is better suited to rise to the specific demands presented than Earth Wind & Fire. I think you’ll agree.

Did you know that Lana Del Rey likes exceptionally long titles BY: Ian Sherry 4/23/23 On March 24, Lana Del Rey released Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Boulevard. Lana is one of the strangest figures in music today. She made waves upon entry into the market and sparked backlash over her apparent status as an industry plant. While this rubs some people the wrong way, her fans are some of the most dedicated in all of music. They feed into her ever-changing and intentionally unique persona - and vice versa. The result is a catalog mix of inconsistencies, originality and creativity. For me, this is an overall positive characteristic, but it does complicate any quality-based judgments of her work. I generally believe that in cases like this (where the artist is weird outside the music, but not necessarily in it), it’s best to separate their public personas from the music to avoid over or under-crediting them based on personal bias. To be clear, her personality enhances the tone of the album, something that many artists struggle with. However, I don’t often find a significant alteration to the music itself. Yes, she has evolved as an artist, but the stylistic shifts from album to album have never been groundbreaking to me. Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Boulevard is easily better than her previous two releases, and while it isn’t a huge creative step forward, it innovates enough to please her hungry audience, and it includes some of her cleanest, well-rounded tracks to date. Lana’s atmosphere of choice on Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Boulevard is one of melancholy and nostalgia from the perspective of a woman intent on letting her emotional trauma fester through 77 minutes of painful memories. Her storytelling is, in short, unique. She carefully constructs emotionally raw narratives that the listener can feel. They’re often conversational, a dialogue between her and another person, sometimes an old friend, family member, or romantic partner, sometimes herself, and sometimes nobody at all. Lana’s storytelling, combined with her polished voice and attitude of comfortable familiarity, paints blurry images that must be clear to somebody - but we are not somebody. This atmosphere Lana constructed is present on all of her best songs on the record. I believe “Sweet”, “Kintsugi”, and “Fingertips” are some of the best examples, but excluding a select few, you can feel it in every song. In the past, Lana has struggled to lock into one really strong sound. On Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Boulevard , she does. However, her ability to mix things up without departing from her theme or comfort zone is what elevates this album. On “A&W”, the lengthiest song of the album at 7:13, Lana recounts short memories of past experiences, how they’ve soured her outlook on love and herself, and how she’s now a less worthy romantic acquisition. It’s a dark look into the troubled mind of someone lacking self-esteem and their subsequent inability to deal with emotions or even basic facts in a positive way. However, this outstanding narrative aside, what stands out the most to me is Lana sounding like Lorde. The first 4 minutes are a steady instrumental performance from a piano and acoustic guitar fronted by Lana’s meandering vocals, but the last three minutes break into something entirely different: the production suddenly switches to electronic, with base hits and a drum machine coming into play along with a buzzy finish on Lana’s up-pace vocals. It is very reminiscent of Lorde’s 2013 hit album Pure Heroine . From the building up and stripping down of the production to Lana’s repetitive lyrics and layered vocals, the finish to “A&W” is a shocking and well-executed finish to an emotionally raw song. This isn’t the only instance of Lana dipping into outside influences on her 2023 project. For instance, “Grandfather please stand on the shoulders of my father while he’s deep-sea fishing”, yes that’s the title, reminds me of Kate Bush in a way. But what impressed me, even more than her incorporation of different sounds, was her use of features. Jon Batiste’s feature on “Candy Necklace” is the album’s first. I love Batiste, so I was excited to see how they would come together on this song. At first I was disappointed, as he only plays piano behind her fairly repetitive vocals. But by my third listen I changed my mind. Batiste is a genius with his hands on a piano, and his performance provides a unique backing to a straightforward, but enjoyable performance. They don’t always blend seamlessly, but there are successful moments when Lana changes pace or volume in unison with Batiste’s piano runs, which adds a very unique quality to the song. “Paris, Texas” feat. SYML, “Let The Light In” feat. Father John Misty, and “Margaret” feat. Bleachers are three of the strongest songs on the album. “Paris, Texas” features a simple instrumental accompaniment from SYML. His feature doesn’t add to the song as noticeably as the Batiste feature does, but it is one of the most well-done songs in Lana’s discography and might be my favorite on the album. “Let The Light In” is the most traditional feature on the album. Lana and Father John Misty duet on the chorus, adding to the fullness of a touching song while still allowing Lana to carry the personal and nostalgic narrative on her own. “Margaret” is similar to “Let The Light In”, but with a more dynamic performance from Lana. Bleachers plays a very similar role to Father John Misty, helping on the chorus and providing a point of return in the chorus for Lana to take the verses to different places. She shows more range on this one song than the rest of the entire album, and the instrumental is much more upfront in certain parts of the mix, elevating the song above the surrounding tracks. Without Bleachers holding down the chorus and providing a more mellow vibe, the exceptional contrast of “Margaret” wouldn’t have been possible. Lana Del Rey was clearly in a creative place for this album. While her creativity manifests itself in the album's best moments, it’s also evident in what I consider to be her biggest mistakes. The first shortcoming, “Judah Smith Interlude”, is an instrumentally backed rant that forces the listener to analyze it for any possible meaning before inevitably giving up before the 4:37 is up. I don’t know what she was getting at here, but I do know it doesn’t fit. Just two tracks later the “Jon Batiste Interlude” is a much better version. His piano backs up a distorted recording of his voice with some Lana vocals in the background. It feels like much more of an instrumental interlude than “Judah Smith Interlude”, and it’s a welcome addition to the flow of the album, unlike its predecessor. The second shortcoming comes in the last three songs. To be fair, I like Lana’s decision to shift from a mostly live recorded instrumental album to a more electronically produced finish starting on “Fishtail”. There are great moments of vocal distortion and sonic layering, but “Peppers” is simply out of place. As the second-to-last track on the album, it has a completely different vibe in the wrong way. In a different context it is a good song, which is why I wish she had released it as a sort of red herring single. It has a catchy chorus and some classic late 2000s vocals, which is exactly why it makes no sense here. Although I like “Peppers” on its own, I am baffled by its inclusion on Lana’s otherwise cohesive and focused 2023 project. A final minor critique: Lana’s verses don’t alway distinguish themselves from one another or the chorus because of the understated delivery. But, this is more of a preference issue on my part and a stylistic choice on hers. This album, in my mind, is an anomaly. Lana is overly-focused on a singular theme, something that has hurt, even delegitimized, some of her previous work. But, this time it is done perfectly. Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Boulevard combines some of Lana’s best songs with her most beautiful moments ever. Without “Judah Smith Interlude '' and “Peppers”, this album really flirts with perfection. Ironically, Lana Del Rey, who is often considered a semi-niche artist, has delivered an album I would genuinely recommend to nearly any audience. A simple rating can’t encapsulate how much I like this album. Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Boulevard is an 8.75/10.

Eilish & Cameron in 3D BY: DAWSON SARCONA feat. ITS, 5/6/2026 Billie Eilish – Hit Me Hard and Soft: The Tour (Live in 3D) is the latest concert film/documentary from a cross-generational collaboration between Billie Eilish and directing legend James Cameron. While this movie falls into some of the concert movie genre’s formulaic pitfalls, it stands out as one of the most immersive and visually pleasing cinematized performances I've ever seen. Let’s begin with perhaps the most technically difficult portion of this movie, the cinematography. Coming into a world tour, months in, with the goal of branding new 3D camera technology is a tall task. Even more so when you consider that these cameras must be placed in functional areas that don't restrict the actual onstage performance but capture usable, visually pleasing footage. That being said, Cameron, Eilish, and their teams executed flawlessly. There are endless shots in this movie that felt like pieces of artwork. Further, what really impressed me was the ability to capture scale and immerse the audience. The mix of wide-angle, high-definition cameras with new “Lightstorm Vision” 3D technology made the concert feel physically impactful in theaters, and the clarity of the pictures captured via 3D was astounding to me. I have never once felt more immersed in a concert film, and at times, I forgot about the spectacle of watching “a 3D movie” as it rather tricked my brain into a more holistic concert viewing experience. All of the great visual direction and setups aside, there are some issues I have with this movie. I will say flatly, I am not typically a big fan of concert movies. They’re just not really my type of film and they often struggle to grab my attention. This movie follows the stereotypical format of all films in this genre, cutting between concert performance footage and behind-the-scenes documentary-style clips. My biggest issue is the way the behind-the-scenes footage was cut together. There seemed to be almost no pattern to it, and there were scenes intercut into the middle of the film that would have done much better setting the stage earlier in the movie (rather than an actual time lapse of stage set-up to begin the film). I also would have loved to get into the weeds of how this tour functions from the crew side. The crew has feelings too. As for the music, as a casual fan of Billie Eilish and her overall sound, I had a lot of fun seeing the hits performed in cool ways and learning some of her songs I hadn't heard before. I can say that I came out of this movie more of a fan of Eilish (and Cameron). That being said, my reviews mostly focus on movies, so I'll briefly hand you over to a writer with larger ears, Ian Sherry. ~~~ Billie Eilish’s minimal bandstand matched her minimalist pop sound. A large rectangle with two dugouts near center-stage housed a bassist, guitarist, drummer, and a pair of backup singing sisters. That, plus an omnipresent backtrack and a loop pedal for “when the party’s over,” was all Eilish needed to move her audience to screaming tears. She was vocally tight, physically fit, swagger-laced, and on a scripted mission to provide the audience with the ultimate “Billie Eilish” experience. - ITS ~~~ Overall, I was pleasantly surprised by this movie. I had a lot of fun with it, aside from some confusing editing choices that might have hindered some of the momentum. For a concert movie, I thought it was one of the best I’d come across, and I know this will be a smash hit for all die-hard Billie Eilish fans. I’d give this movie a 6 out of 10 on the scale of regular movies. But, with a film genre like this, that's so vastly different from the story-based films I'm used to reviewing, I feel like a different scale is more suitable for this venture. So that being said, when compared to the other films from the concert movie category, my final review for this movie is a 9 out of 10, and I would highly recommend it to fans of Eilish, Cameron, and the genre at large.

Anderson .Paak: Freedom Hill 10/5/24 10/29/24 By Ian Sherry On January 15, 2016, Anderson .Paak released Malibu. On October 5, 2024 I saw him perform it live. When I was in 8th grade, I had what I considered a pretty wide-reaching taste in music for a kid my age. Most of my musical discoveries at the time were either handed to me directly from my dad or I found them digging through his Itunes library. I had my favorites - old-school hip-hop, Motown standards, that 4 month Journey kick I had in 7th grade, or every bit of Prince material I could get my hands on - but I had and have a few weak areas as well. One in particular stood out: I hardly knew any new music. In an age before I had access to the unlimited horizons Spotify provides, if it was new and it didn’t get played on the radio (which I generally disliked anyway) then I had no way to hear it. That is until the fateful summer night I heard “Come Down” . I was watching TV with the family when I heard Anderson .Paak’s most energized anthemic song to date being used on some commercial (obviously not a good one because I only remember the song). I casually slipped off to the basement, pulled out my brand new phone and found the song, then another, and another, and the rest is history. The trajectory of my music fandom had changed forever and I knew it. As I listened to “Come Down”, then “Jet Black” , and “Am I Wrong” I fell in love with a new artist, not for the first time in my life, but for the first time all on my own, and that meant everything. Now, a few weeks ago I was blessed with the opportunity to relive that night. Let me tell you about it. I was lucky to latch onto the .Paak train when I did in 2019, because following the acclaim he earned with Ventura , that year’s release, he took the next decade by storm winning 6 Grammys in 4 years and dominating the pop charts as Silk Sonic , alongside the ultimately efficient hit-maker Bruno Mars . The material responsible for .Paak’s eruption onto the scene is some of the cleanest of his career, so its success is no mystery. However, regardless of the accolades, the attention, or even the artistic maturity of his later releases, Malibu remains his best piece of work. At his core, Anderson .Paak is a musician. You can really feel that on Malibu , for which he performed and recorded all of the drums before mixing the rest on his laptop. You can feel the difference in both philosophy and product between .Paak’s intentionally constructed pieces of music on this record and the standard formulaic production that is standard today. While most rap, pop, and r&b producers are looking for that golden hook or sample they can run throughout the song, .Paak spends all of his time searching for grooves. On Malibu, he does nothing but find them, one after another. That’s due in part to the talent Anderson associates with: The Free Nationals (more on them later), Robert Glasper , KAYTRANADA , and Madlib all make instrumental or production contributions to the album as did a cast of musicians and producers that worked alongside other musically excellent acts like D’Angelo , JAY-Z , John Mayer , even Nine Inch Nails . Big names I know, and their individual instrumental contributions are evident on every song in an intentional and impactful way, but make no mistake, Anderson .Paak is the common denominator from which this music emerges. Each track thrives in the coordination of many moving parts and the result is 16 comfortable performances backed by smooth progressions, transitions, and the multi-genred sonic excellence .Paak aims to capture. No album better illustrates his dual prowess as a musician and entertainer than his 2016 record, so naturally, when I heard he was taking one of my all-time favorite albums on tour 8 years later, I couldn’t miss it. THE SHOW As a conscientious objector of arena shows I was happy to hear Anderson .Paak’s Malibu Tour would be gracing Freedom Hill, one of the Detroit area’s better sizable outdoor venues. Maurice Brown came on first as my partna and I traversed the parking lots and concourse. In the vein of his headliner, Brown is a jazz, hip-hop dual threat who performs on trumpet and as an occasional MC. GAWD followed as I found my spot on the hill. The feminine-energetic duo (Good Ass Women Deserve) lives in the wide umbrella that is contemporary r&b and as a result they have yet to settle anywhere specific. Their set, which lasted in the neighborhood of 45 minutes, was a solid performance that showcased plenty musically and got the ball rolling with crowd engagement, a big focus for the entire night. Their live sound was very 80s-reminiscent, but it had hints of house and modern west-coast electronic. They confidently flexed their songwriting with catchy hooks and choruses while performing rigorous dance routines in tandem backed by a bouncy pop-funk band. They bit off a lot and largely executed with energy, aside from some of the more challenging singing. Their modern pop/r&b vocal choices better lend themselves to studio-to-radio arrangements as they proved to be difficult to execute live and raw. Both openers did a great job of prepping the environment for the main attraction, and as they exited and the pre-show playlist kicked on for the last time, the countdown began. The entire production was solid back to front, and it started with the pre-show mix. “Crowns For Kings” , a fantastic contemporary hip-hop collision between Black Thought and Benny The Butcher started playing and immediately put me in a good mood. It’s then that I noticed how mic-heavy the drums were and realized (though I should have assumed) that Anderson .Paak would be singing from the drumseet. The longer I sat and waited the more me excitement grew, and I started reflecting on the performative skill it must require to do what he was about to do. That showcase of instrumental consistency on a pacekeeping instrument in a percussion-centric sound in addition to the vocal exertion of rapping is something I couldn’t wait to see. To me it elevates him to a greater category of lead performing musicians. Some, like Raphael Saddiq brand themselves as musicians on the strength of their creative and compositional skills. Others, say Robert Cray , on the unique strengths of their instrument in tandem with their voice. Then there's those who fit both descriptions - like Stevie Wonder or Curtis Mayfield . It was perfect then, that while I waited to see an artist with a categorically similar skill-set, Mayfield’s “So in Love” suddenly washed over me. The best track on his impeccable 1975 LP is one of my very favorite love songs of all time. From the first note, per usual, I was trapped in the soulful combination of keys and brass, not to mention Mayfield’s signature piano-like guitar that perfectly sets the stage for his uniquely firm yet delicate voice. One of the greatest vocalists in American music, Mayfeild’s ability to stretch his voice to its limit in a sustained fashion was responsible for his heavenly tone, and as the song glided along that’s what I found myself thinking about. I thought about the strength of his vocal control, how he was a true performer in the studio and out, and I felt lucky to soon be seeing a man with similar talent. As Anderson .Paak was introduced, Maurice Brown took the stage alongside the Free Nationals and got the program started on trumpet. As he began to riff on “The Bird” the screen lit up, and finally, on camera backstage wearing a baby blue embroidered suit, .Paak started making his way to the stage performing the first track of his best album. Immediately, the energy, sonic quality, and confidence elevated across the board, and as that sunk in he made his way to the drums. A drummer by trade, .Paak is no stranger to the instrument and he made that abundantly clear throughout the night, rotating between the drums and center stage, and consequently between stylistic personas (the pop-star frontman, the nimble-drumming master of breath control, and the solist-level drummer in a great band). His strong supporting cast made those transitions easy. Starting with track 2, “Heart Don’t Stand a Chance” , and continuing throughout the night GAWD provided the washy background vocals that play a huge role in bolstering the album’s sound. Regardless of who is filling it, the role is essential in that sound, especially in a live setting where precise sonic balance is needed to accommodate a lead singer who drums and raps simultaneously. That wasn’t the only trick up .Paak’s sleeve (which flipped from blue to an identical red version at his mid-show wardrobe change). “The Waters” is one of the smoothest songs on the record, largely because of BJ Chicago Kid ’s vocal contributions, so, to help it translate to a live performance in BJ’s absence, the Free Nationals’ secret weapon Ron Avant stepped in. The band’s keyboardist played swiss army knife all night, painting keys across every track while contributing as an occasional background vocalist, commanding the talkbox to its full effect, and acting as .Paak’s hype-man. Malibu cannot be executed live without that kind of versatility. It thrives in the fullness of its sound, and while .Paak’s rhythmically focused drumming is an excellent addition to their live show, he can’t replicate that music alone. Togetherness was a major theme on October 5th. It was most evident in the way Anderson .Paak interacted with his band and tourmates, but it continuously factored into the crowd interactions and messaging throughout the night. Track 4 stood out in that way, and it was no mistake. “The Season | Carry Me” is the heart of Malibu . Many of .Paak’s strongest album moments through the years have benefited greatly from nostalgia and emotional songwriting. On this two-part song, with the help of Bill Withers , .Paak writes about and reflects on his childhood and the surroundings he came up in. The first half relishes in the triumphant aspect of his journey that began in Oxnard CA, but the later half was the show-stopper, literally. As he concluded the song’s last verse, he cut the track and told a story about his mom. With the help of Ron Avant - his conversation partner of choice- .Paak began to paint this picture: his usually strict mom took him to the mall on his birthday. Since there allegedly wasn’t much to do in the mall then aside from visiting Foot Locker, and young Brandon happened to be in need of some shoes, that’s where they went. That’s where he met his first love - “A grown ass woman?” asked Avant - no, it was a pair of jordans. From there, it quickly became clear to past Anderson and his future audience just how much his mother loved him, as he went on to explain that not only did she buy him the not-so-cheap footwear, she carried him (but more-so the shoes) safely over the dirty sidewalk to the car. It was a sweet humorous story that cleverly culminated with the line “Momma can you carry me?”, the final hook and jumping off point for the song’s outro. How do you follow up a moment like that not half way through the show? Well Anderson .Paak decided to announce this next song was about Jose Rios’ ex girlfriend, and as the band's guitarist stood there speechless for just a moment, .Paak jumped right into track 5. That kind of smooth showmanship was the standard for the duration of the show. Whether it be the washy samples between songs that aided the transitions and kept the performance accurate to the album or the features on screen that ranged from colorful background graphics to what I think was an AI rendition of the Family Matters Theme song with the Free Nationals in place of the Winslows, the show had clearly been carefully planned with a broad audience in mind. As the show progressed into the middle of the album, crowd engagement became even more of a focus. .Paak and co. consistently tried to get the fans to participate in a variety of capacities, clapping, call and response, singing along, pulling out the flashlights, hanging out with DJ Peewee - you know, all the concert classics. He flew through the albums mid-section, still moving between the drums and center stage and performing every performable aspect of the album until it was time for a break. After gliding across track 10, “Room In Here”, which normally features The Game and Sonyae Elise , .Paak and most of the band exited, leaving GAWD and Avant alone on stage with DJ Peewee, a giant projection of .Paak who appeared on screen wearing a black bob wig and some big shades. He tried a bit of awkward pre-recorded crowd engagement before dropping the needle onto his Malibu vinyl and giving way to GAWD and Avant who performed “Water Fall (Interluuube)” . In the moment it felt like a thinly veiled break for the performers, who did deserve a breather, but in hindsight it symbolized the halfway point in the show. While GAWD and Ron Avant held it down on stage, .Paak and the rest of the Free Nationals took a moment backstage to prepare for the daunting second half of the performance. He made it clear upon his return to the stage that the energy levels would rise one way or another in the second half, as the sizable but reserved crowd had been annoyingly sluggish (although attentive) to that point. Immediately they succeeded, as the infectious spirit of “Come Down” asserted itself on the audience. The most popular song on the album mustered some genuine fan participation that carried through “Silicon Valley” , they stayed engaged through the somewhat cathartic “Celebrate” and lastly an energized rendition of the positively spirited finale “The Dreamer” which concluded .Paak's 2016 masterpiece. At that point, having successfully achieved the main goal, a positive high-energy finish to the album, .Paak exited the stage and let his band take over. As the Free Nationals reintroduced themselves and began to perform a few of their best, I reflected on how lucky I was to see that album performed live and how cool it was that I was now watching a great band perform a pseudo-encore despite the crowd not necessarily earning it. It was a good concert experience, and I was satisfied listening to the good vibrations of “Eternal Light” , that is, until they brought .Paak back out. That’s right, after performing the entirety of Malibu, Anderson .Paak came back on stage, this time performing songs from across his discography. I was particularly happy to hear “Make It Better” and “Come Home” from Ventura and “Bubblin” , all three of which were in my initial tight rotation of .Paak’s music. He brought hits from all phases of his career, rattling off song after song including new singles and work from his most recent NxWorries project , all in a pleasantly unrelenting attempt to send the crowd home entertained. He dipped into his Silk Sonic catalog and threw it back for the more long-time fans, particularly with “Dang!” which he dedicated to his late friend Mac Miller who’s featured verse was performed live by Maurice Brown. I felt as though .Paak had taken me and every other possible attendee into consideration by performing a variety that anyone could at some point identify with. That means he delivered. I’ve been to a respectable number of concerts now and the best ones have been those where the audience would die for the artist. Two come to mind: when I saw Aretha Franklin ’s last concert in Detroit, and when I saw Action Bronson in Chicago. The first audience represented a storied musical city coming forward in a big way to see, support, and have their hearts filled by their queen for what ended up being the last time. The second audience consisted of a cult-like group of fans who in many ways emulated the persona of the man they came to see. In both of those cases the artist energized the crowd with ease, but the crowd bolstered the artist as well. That give and take is essential, and .Paak seemed well aware of that. He made crowd engagement a point of emphasis for not only himself but his openers, and while his efforts to cultivate the ideal concert experience didn’t result in the most elite concert crowd experience, any shortcomings fall squarely on the shoulders of those who paid to see him. The kind of work and thought he puts into a performance like that combined with the level of talent he possesses deserves an audience on par with those select few. That's because is an artist on par with a select few - and that late summer night I got to see him live.

GRAMMYS ON TRIAL 2/4/24 BY: IAN SHERRY On Sunday, February 4, 2023, the 66th annual Grammy Awards will take place at 8 pm. If you like good music, you may not like the Grammys. In fact, I’d tend towards the opinion that you absolutely should not. Anyone who’s ever watched the Grammys has experienced disappointment. They’ve experienced confusion as an artist strolls to the stage to accept the most prestigious award that applies to their mediocre product. That combination of disappointment and confusion leads to anger. Then, all of a sudden, music’s biggest night, the one that’s supposed to bring fans together nationwide, is steeped in division. Twitter lights up in outrage, TVs shut off, and people go to bed thinking next year will be better. People are mistaken, because in fact, the Grammys only get worse. Their archaic thought processes and categorizations grow weaker as music diversifies, and their failure to adjust in any significant way becomes increasingly offensive. Yet, they sit alone at the top of their critical field. If you’re interested, please join me down here as I throw rocks at the throne. One of the greatest criticisms of any institution is to say they’ve lost sight of their original purpose; the Grammy Awards are a perfect example. Elected officials often get lost in the game that is politics and begin to govern with the intention of securing reelection instead of serving the people. The Grammys have fallen into a similar trap. In order to maintain their unparalleled grip on the pinnacle of musical achievement, they feel they need to please an audience. Their word is final, yet if people are displeased their credibility comes into question. So, in order to maintain credibility and reserve the right to assert their opinion, they have to simultaneously appeal to the largest possible demographics while pacifying the frustration of undervalued fanbases. For this year’s attempt at saving face, Harvey Mason Jr., the CEO of The Recording Academy, added three sub-categories: best African music performance, best alternative jazz album, and best pop dance recording. While the surface-level intention here is good, it doesn’t make a dent. The Grammys' genre divisions can’t be fixed by adding niche awards here and there. If there is a category for Christian music why not other religions? If there is a category for Electronic music why does it only apply to the Euro/American EDM and hyperpop movements and not the majority-Black Techno and House movements of Detroit and Chicago? You’ll never get to the root of the problem by going one at a time. The result of their box-checking strategy is an uncomfortable and unbalanced relationship with not only the artists, but their audience as well. How is an audience supposed to accept the word of The Recording Academy as gospel when that word has been so obviously impacted by a variety of monetary influences and inherent biases? Criteria is the key word when it comes to exercises of this nature. An entity that is determining the best or worst of anything must have criteria in order to consistently deliver a decision. Discrepancies sew doubt into the minds of the audience, and I have many doubts running through my mind this year. Morgan Wallen is the newest rage in country music. In 2023 he was all over the charts, even holding the number one slot for 16 weeks with “Last Night” . His music dominated the country audience, but more impressively, he brought in non-country fans as well. I won’t pretend to count myself as one of them, but I do find it incredible that he will receive the same number of golden Grammy trophies as me this year (0). While his songwriters have a shot in the best country song category, Morgan Wallen himself is not nominated once. If the Grammys aren’t about the fans, at least not his, they must put more of an emphasis on critical success, right? Caroline Polachek must be nominated for album of the year. Wrong. Instead we sit in a weird in-between where popularity matters only within fanbases The Recording Academy values, where critical voices are used to defend certain artists’ inclusion but ignored to justify others. For instance, Ice Spice is nominated for Best New Artist, but not Sexyy Red . Both artists had massive presences on the rap charts and TikTok, planted their names amongst the top female rappers, made significant feature appearances, and received strong reviews from critics, yet only one is nominated. Sexyy Red is what we, in the tradition of complaining about the Grammys, call a snub. Yes, gathering around and complaining about the Grammys snubs is a tradition at this point. I’m sure The Recording Academy can feel this culture of negativity amongst their audience, though I’m not sure they care. As long as those angry people still tune in, what's the harm? A lot of work goes into crafting an audience such as this; we’re frustrated but we return without fail. They sell it and we buy it, and when there’s a dip in sales they find a way to pull us back in. In 2021 they charted by far the lowest viewership this century. The next year, they received praise from all corners of the entertainment industry when Jon Batiste won the 2022 album of the year. To follow that up, they put on a 50 years in hip-hop celebration last year, which received awards and resulted in a 30% spike in viewership from the previous year. So, how do they maintain an audience constantly threatening to wane? They lean into other demographics as needed. There is no 51 years in hip-hop celebration this year, in fact there’s no hip-hop nominated for any of the top three categories. Instead they sprinkled nominations in for Grammy darlings Kendrick Lamar and Jon Batiste , despite Lamar having a slow year in terms of production quantity and Batiste’s new album receiving lukewarm reviews across the board. This kind of token placement throughout the nominations is a common Grammy trope, and its used to justify Harry Styles’ Harry’s House winning over Beyonce’s Renaissance or Macklemore’s The Heist winning over Kendrick Lamar’s Good Kid, M.A.A.D. City (notice how they’ve been sure not to repeat this particular mistake). If you create the standard that a certain kind of music’s merit is limited, then its inclusion in any form is appreciated. Have you ever taken a moment to wonder why you never see hip-hop albums win Album of The Year? In fact, only two have ever done it. Is it fair to say that Lauryn Hill’s The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill and Outkast’s Speakerboxxx/The Love Below are the only two rap albums ever to sit at the top of their year, that even the best rap albums can’t, on average, stand up to the best of other genres, that rap is a lesser artform? No, that’s nonsense, yet that’s what the Grammys imply. The Grammys imply that Black music can be pigeonholed into one umbrella category, and somehow, that’s remained acceptable. In 2021 Black artists accounted for 44% of charting songs according to Billboard , yet a CNN article from the same year revealed only 24% of the nominees were Black. The vessel through which the Grammys bottle up Black artists is the Rap & Spoken Word Poetry category. While it's dangerous to assume an artist’s inclusion in a given category is based on anything other than merit, patterns imply intent not coincidence. Case and point: every single artist nominated in the R&B, Rap & Spoken Word Poetry this year is of African descent. Knowing that, it becomes a lot harder to remain under the impression the category has anything to do with music, not to mention the glaring differences in the art being presented within the category. However, the person who highlights this categorical foolishness the best isn’t even Black. Jelly Roll is a rapper and singer from Nashville. He spent more than a decade rapping, inspired by the Southern royalty rap of the 90s and 2000s. However, when he finally received his first Grammy nod it was in the Country & American Roots Music category. Just like there's no room for Lil Yachty in the Rock, Metal & Alternative Music category, there was no room for Jelly Roll in the Grammys definition of rap. After more than a decade, this was abundantly clear to him so he transitioned to a genre that fit his skin tone and accent in the highest critical context. That’s the kind of power these awards wield. They shape the landscape in which artists attempt to create music, and they enforce their racist mindset on the industry at large. That’s why Lil Nas X couldn’t release a pop/country song without backlash, Tyler, The Creator got his music pulled from the radio for practicing the same horrorcore rap that made Eminem famous, and Iggy Azalea climbed the charts by rapping in her best impersonation of a Black woman instead of her natural Australian accent. At the source of every institutional form of discrimination is an institution. In the music industry you can point to a number of villains, but none more public and pathetic than the Grammys. To The Recording Academy: allow me to remind you of your supposed purpose. You are the highest positive critical force in American Music. You have a responsibility to recognize the best of the best, based purely on merit, by creating categories which cover all types of excellent music and rewarding the best artist within that category. The purpose of categories is to ensure those who deserve to be recognized are accommodated, not to appease the fans, insert or cover your inherent bias, or reinforce the configuration of the pop charts. The pop charts, after all, speak for themselves. We don’t need you to base your decisions upon streaming numbers or radio listenership, Billboard exists for that very purpose. No, we turn to you because you are the all-encompassing, musically critical institution which best summarizes the feelings of the most reputable pundits and the people for whom the artists make art. You wield the power of public opinion, not the other way around. That power is unrivaled in the music industry, as streaming is the livelihood of the artists who you’re meant to empower. After all, their art is also a product. Instead, you’ve become the product. You sell yourself to the public every year. Everything you do, from the categories and the artists nominated within them, to the presenters and performers selected to put on your show, is all a part of the institution, the product, the lost cause: the Grammys. Of course, we can't completely abstain from the ceremonies. So, here's a list of the best amongst the nominees, who I think will win, and who should win regardless of the nominations for every category I feel inclined and qualified to pick.

Durand Jones Goes Solo: Wait Til I Get Over BY: Ian Sherry 5/29/23 On May 5, 2023 Durand Jones released Wait Til I Get Over . Over the past five years Durand Jones & The Indications have been making great music. Their 2018 debut self titled album is great, their 2019 American Love Call is easily my favorite contemporary soul album, and their 2021 Private Space is a stylistic swerve done the right way. Now, we get Durand Jones’ first solo album. This doesn’t signal the end of the band. No, Jones made it clear on several occasions leading into his 2023 release that it was a deeply personal project, one that he needed to do himself. Durand Jones’ lack of Indications both intrigued and concerned me. The Indications thrive because of three general strengths (outside of Durand Jones): songwriting, consistently strong musical performances, and Aaron Frazer. Without the rest of his band, could Jones replicate these strengths? After all, the best bands’ songwriting is often a group effort, The Beatles or Queen for example, and Jones is just one man. That throwback sound the band revitalizes in such a refreshing way is difficult to capture, and attempting to recreate that same magic without them would be difficult. Aaron Frazer is The Indications' secret weapon, whose occasional lead vocals provide a great deal of variety, and whose help on choruses or ensemble vocal performances with Jones solidifies the uniqueness of the band's sound. Frazer is absent from this project. However, that was the point, and any of the resulting missteps on Wait Til I Get Over were a part of the calculated risk Durand Jones took going solo this year. So now, the results of his risk: Frankly, I have lots of critiques to roll out, but I'd like to start on a positive note. I love Aaron Frazer, and I was hoping for at least a feature from him; but he’s not needed. Durand Jones is a dynamic vocalist, able to carry nearly any tune and elevate even the most instrumentally bland music. Without that, this album would really struggle, lucky for Jones he can sing. Actually, he’s not lucky, just good. It's easy to say so, considering the songwriting on this album may be his strongest yet. Detailing the struggles of his people in the South and his own internal journey, Jones does a great job of using themes like community to fuel feelings like hope for a well-rounded yet fittingly unfinished narrative. While the narrative is cohesive, the stylistic choices are not. On the first three songs, Jones touches on three very different sounds. This can be done really well, but in this case it feels disjointed. “Gerri Marie” is a solid intro that sets a scene and vibe with Durand Jones and a piano. That’s it, but its simplicity is its strength. However, post the first interlude (track 2), this vibe is deleted by “Lord Have Mercy”. A jaunty sort of Bayou Rock song, it’s the first of a new Durand Jones sound, one that needs a lot of work. It effectively introduces the most unfortunate recurring theme of this album: poor instrumental production and vocal mixing. The instrumental layering is cluttered and a weird buzzy finish lays over everything, including Jones’ vocals. Yet, on the very next track, “Sadie”, Jones temporarily abandons his theme of musical mediocrity. It is a strong song in every way. Great hooks, choruses, and instrumental backing and breaks, it has all the makings of an Indications classic. So why not make that a theme? I think a look at track 5 can answer that question. "I Want You” is another Indications-worthy track musically, as well as a Jones masterclass vocally. He mixes in powerful background vocals at just the right moments and spoken pieces mid-verse, two things seldom seen, if ever, with his band. He is in his creative zone, stretching his attention to every aspect of the sound he wants to encapsulate. But, stretch is the key word. For the length of the song, every couple beats, there is a strange crashing sound. It's some sort of percussion, and it should have been any other kind of percussion, as keeping pace seems to be its sole purpose. But he chose this sound. A decision that doesn’t ruin the song completely, but one that, along with an occasionally jumbled bottom to the mix and an instrumental layering failure down the stretch of the song, can remove a distracted listener from the otherwise powerful tune. Durand Jones is a member of a great band, and great bands don’t let things like that slip through the cracks, but once again, he is just one man. These seemingly careless miscues continue through the album, and honestly, highlighting all of them is trivial. From the drowning of a strong communal vocal performance on “Wait Til I Get Over” to the alarmingly unfit feature on “Someday We’ll All Be Free” or the failure to catch a groove on “Letter To My 17 Year Old Self”, Jones misses opportunities to properly support his beautiful writing and vocal performances. However, he does not miss on “That Feeling”. Durand Jones is a bisexual black man from the South. That means both everything and nothing to this song. To my knowledge, it’s the first time he sings about another man, and he does so against that backdrop he spent so much time constructing. However, as he eases into this particular narrative, everything fades away. It doesn’t matter who he is speaking to, it’s beautiful. A story of wasted potential, told through a nostalgic lens, with that familiar hope and determination, “That Feeling” is love. It’s also the best song on the album. With raw vocals and a classic instrumental intro, Jones eases into the rhythm just as he does the narrative. Layering keys and guitar, he elevates the sound to the highest point of the album in stride with his words, before stripping it down to deliver a message: he and the love inside him aren't going anywhere. With the message delivered and the love story completed, Jones takes the last minutes to elevate one more time, leaving the audience with a powerful combination image and sound. Jones thrives in simplicity on this album, “Secrets” is a good final example. A piano and some voices are all he needed to close his 2023 release. Waves crash against a shore for the last two minutes, washing away the song and this, simply put, unique album. I hope it's unique for several reasons. First, Durand Jones is better than this. But, on top of that, he needed to get something out of his system. For his sake, I like to think he’s satisfied that need, at least enough to clean up any remaining loose ends with The Indications (in more ways than one). This album is messy. The production and mixing are scarily bad at times, as if he needed a reminder that the old days are supposed to be represented by the narrative, not the sound equipment. Jones also struggles to hitch a stylistic ride all the way through. This is fine for an EP, but for an album with a decisive theme, flow is essential. Yet, while it's easy to nitpick my way through this album, it's also easy to get lost in what Jones does well. He is an exceptional songwriter, a skill rivaled only by his vocal abilities. Those two strengths specifically can carry an album, and this is certainly one of those cases. I love Durand Jones, I am excited to see what he does next, and I believe the worst he can do is average. This album, all things considered, is just average. Wait Til I Get Over is a 5.25/10.

Return of the Clipse By Ian Sherry 7/23/2025 On July 11, Clipse returned with Let God Sort Em Out . One of hip hop’s greatest duos is back in all-time brotherly form. Before I share the upshot, let’s talk about the Fall-off. The gist is this: at some point every rapper hits a wall, loses the juice. After years in a game that demands killer instinct and inter-industrial connections, there comes a time when artist can no longer create in the rat-race-space that is hip hop. Did you listen to Music To Be Murdered By (20) ? That was a falloff. Did you listen to Donda (21) ? That was a falloff. Did you listen to Tha Carter VI (25) ? That was a falloff. Pusha T is 48 years old. That’s older than Eminem, Kanye, and Wheezy at the time of their respective Fall-offs, which only makes more impressive the fact that rap’s champion of old-school weight-moving is only getting stronger. Upon entering what would be a tricky period in the average rap career, Pusha T has released 3 consecutive catalog-topping records, and this time it’s a family affair. Sometime in the early 90s, brothers Gene and Terrance Thornton were kicked out of their family home, onto the streets of Virginia Beach when their father found a brick in his kitchen. Now living on the same streets they served, the brothers had no choice but to make some shit shake. Luckily, they had some talent tucked behind all the 1s in their pockets. With moving being their specialty, they soon discovered their ability to move people with their raps. As Terrar and Malicious tore across the VA underground, it wasn’t long before Pharrell made that same discovery. And the Clipse was born. The duo made an immediate impact on the 2000s rap landscape, locking down their place in Southern rap history and influencing the following wave of hip-hop-heads (Tyler The Creator especially) across their first two records. But as The Neptunes p assed on production responsibilities to Mr. Combs and the brothers’ life paths became, divergent their work together came to an end in 2010, with Pusha T entering the Kanye-sphere and Malice stepping away to find God and write his memoir. For a long time Clipse felt like a part of hip-hop history, a part of that time I just barely missed, a dynamic connection I never quite got to experience. Eclipses are a powerful rarity of nature: an otherworldly cycle beyond our control brings into alignment two massive looming figures in our sky, turning out our lights and placing the world on pause. Its been 15 years since the last Clipse, and the moment VA’s finest realigned, my world went on pause . 'Chivalry ain’t dead, you ain’t let her go alone, Found you in the kitchen, scriptures in the den Half-written texts that you never got to send Combin through your dresser drawer, where do I begin? Posted Noted Bible quotes, were you preparing then?. Malice’s words on “The Birds Don’t Sing” hit me harder than any other lyrics released this year, and they gave it to us in track 1. There’s not personal information readily available on the internet regarding the Thornton clan (a self-ensured blessing on their part I’m sure), which only adds to the mystique of Clipse as they dive into both family and personal matters for the length of Let God Sort Em Out . The record's first offering begins a pattern of ferociously confronting the elephants and skeletons scattered across the Thornton household, their beginnings which they’ve revisited in metaphor for years now – all with the help of John Legend's golden vocals. It’s a phenomenal first track content-wise as it flips the narrative on Clipse’ past from a place they escaped to a place they feel the need to revisit, with Pusha spewing his regrets from an apologetic place he’s seldom displayed and Malice recounting the tragic, consecutive passings of their parents with a special focus on his painfully retrospective appreciation for his father. Malice’s tirelessly constructed perspective works to offset his hotter-headed brother, deepen the album’s content, and link its chaotically corresponding takeaways. I had small but reasonable concern about the brothers’ chemistry, considering the 15 years that passed and the changes they’ve undergone. It seemed Clipse no longer had their collective focus, dope dealing, but in a satisfying show of maturity and a will to succeed, they found common ground. With their feet on familiar soil: the skateboard beats of the man who discovered them a quarter century ago, the brothers Clipse stand back-to-back ready to spit (with K Dot in tow). And as the second Pharrell instrumental rumbles to life, a storm of thought approaches. Scene by: Allie Larpenteur Clipse bursts into motion “Chains & Whips,” as lyrics slice through the air publicly eliminating internally burdensome and real-life targets alike. Kendrick Lamar drops in beside them to tack on a third fantastic verse – his relentless assessments of self and surroundings blend perfectly with his hosts, a pattern that’s common among this return album’s carefully sorted guests. Just like that, God’s sorting has sprung into full effect. The fashionista thug persona Pusha has been cultivating over his last two solo projects goes beyond lyrical content; his increasingly heady beat selection and ever-expanding industry access have allowed his sound to reflect this era of his career. Now, with Malice by his side, Pusha seems to have a reinvigorated sense of urgency in his words. Both brothers preach lifestyles, and while they differ in certain respects, they’re able to coexist within cohesive tracks thanks to a comfortable chemistry and like-mindedness in the most key areas. "M.T.B.T.T.F." is my favorite example. The underlying source of Let God Sort Em Out’s holistic synergy is Pharrell Williams. The sonic platform of this album exudes royalty and palpably high stakes – the perfect climate for Thorntons. Williams played big role in Pusha T’s recent stylistic progressions, and his wall-to-wall effort on this record only further solidified a sacred scene at the crossroads of contemporary hip-hop. It goes beyond banger beats like “Ace Trumpets.” The album feels like a collective vision. Take the flow from “M.T.B.T.T.F.” into “E.B.I.T.D.A.” : track 7 is a thumping beat. The choppy drums perfectly set up heavy bass drops, like tossing a ball up and slamming it down over and over and over as the brothers let their punches fly. Track 8 follows with Pharrell riding his light, spacey beat from the needle drop. His synth-work and atmospherics on “E.B.I.T.D.A.” replicate the elevated tension of a “Summer Madness” and maintain it as a backdrop for his fellow emcees. He is the glue and one of the many forces that brought these titans back into alignment. Following the seventh track, every song on the album has a feature. When track 9, “F.I.C.O.” presented a beat in the tonal valley between its successors’ sounds, Stove God Cooks swept in with the perfect hook to match. When Pusha laid down one of the hardest verse-chorus combos to start “Inglorious Bastards,” Ab Liva was there to deliver an on-par capping verse in a refreshing bassy tone the nasally Virginians lack. When Pharrell introed the eleventh track, “So Far Ahead” in his computer hip-hop gospel bag (which I could take or leave), he perfectly set up the sturdy beat drop into a relentless Pusha T verse. It worked so nice, they did it twice! (Which I didn’t need). This time dropping into a superior Malice verse, before trotting that flow-stopping chorus out one more time (which I really didn’t need, perhaps the only decision I disagree with record-wide). Nas stopped by quick on “Let God Sort Em Out/Chandeliers,” taking over the second half after a no-sweat-vet beat switch and riding a rolling beat for the album’s most memorable stand-alone feature. As the notorious number 13 rolled around, the sun started to emerge as "By The Grace Of God" introduced light to the previously stark sonic setting. The triumphant ending track finally eased the constantly applied pressure, allowing me to reflect on the album. And as I searched for chinks in the armour, I soon came to realize there are none. My expectations were massive for this record that I never thought I'd see, and my expectations were met. Does one small song-flow decision on a passable tune with great verses negate that fact? No. Let God Sort Em Out is a 10.

Fool's Gold: Apollo's Debut Is Not By Ian Sherry 8/8/2025 On August 8, 2025, Lew Apollo released Fool’s Gold. This debut album is a celebration of individual creation within the blurred lines of this contemporary musical landscape. Lew Apollo was introduced and pitched to me as a “soul” artist. We take soul seriously here in Detroit, making such a label not only striking, but a direct challenge. An endless list of criteria scrolls Star Wars-style through my subconscious as my ears do the judging. In this case, “soul” is a precious label I cannot afford. Apollo’s self-produced pop sound is balanced, fresh, and on-par with industry standards, but it doesn't so much emulate the musical bones of soul music. In an effort to perfectly portray “Lew Apollo the artist,” a noun was used as an adjective: Lew Apollo is not a soul singer, but he is a singer with soul. In 2023, Apollo released JUNGLE . His debut EP had an interesting variety of pop-adjacent tracks, but I find its name to be its most relevant feature. Jungle, to most music fans, is a British band, whose poppy yacht-funk can drift towards modern (Indications-like) soul on any given track. Whether or not he did it intentionally, Apollo benefits from this namely intertwinement. His and Jungle’s likeminded approaches to bridging pop and aspects of disco or soul co-validate one another through quality and creative direction, and that’s evident from track 1. “No Room In Hell” is a prototypical result of this sound, and I’m here for it. The track’s bounce is enough to grab my ear, and the otherwise spacey instrumental is filled-in but secondary to Apollo’s well-engineered vocal editions. The following title track, “Fools Gold,” flexes the ability to easily rework the sound established in track 1. The gradual pace and slappy bass allow Apollo to meander his way into a dreamy vocal performance, floating on the verses no problem, into a catchy chorus with understated background vocal support, before making room as he often does on this record, with a humble but quality instrumental bridge. By this point, it was becoming clear to me that I was dealing with a legit composer. Lew Apollo has a thriving independence about him, from the persona outlined in his promo material, to the aesthetic he’s cultivated on socials and cover art. But, the kicker is that he produced this record himself. Many a genre-fence-sitter have thrived in the technological era of production. Think early Kanye West, Anderson .Paak producing Malibu on his Macbook, or Lew Apollo piecing together a chorus-bolstered, soul-appreciative third track of legitimate sonic scale… “Let The Light In” opens with a murky hook preview and some of Lew’s most striking lyrics thus far. After teasing the chorus, the track begins to pick up steam, bringing in more instrumental and background vocal support on the chorus’ second repetition, and continuing to find new gears through the track’s closing moments. Our tour’s next stop is track 7, “Addicted.” Talk about inspiration. Lew definitely went for a soul tune with modern juice on this reimagination of Bill Withers’ “Just The Two of Us.” Leaning respectfully-but-noticeably on that legendary 6-bar progression, Apollo drops in a heavy r&b track complete with an original spin on the hook’s bones, meaty bass dips, and a delicate bare-bones sonic atmosphere that he places himself at the center of. A win in my book. Now for the closer. Fool’s Gold’s ninth and final track was perfectly placed. Lew Apollo lays it all out there on “Feeling OK,” which stands head and shoulders above an already raw record in terms of vulnerability. Accompanied by only his guitar, Apollo limps his way through a relatable account of the challenges of day-to-day living. While the song doesn’t do a ton musically, his guitar is just enough to properly support him as he captures a feeling experienced by many through different but comparable experiences. He has one line specifically that he wanted us all to hear as his debut record came to a close: “if you can’t pick me up, then put me down.” I’m here to pick him up. Lew Apollo is an ambitious artist. A capable musical visionary. An independent well-rounded artist. And a soulful singer. Fool’s Gold is a 8.2.

Nicki Minaj, Again 12/22/23 BY: IAN SHERRY On December 8, 2023, Nicki Minaj released her first album in 5 years: Pi nk Friday 2 . Nicki Minaj embodies a unique position in today’s music landscape as one of the most simultaneously overplayed and underrated artists of all time. Like her pal Drake, her popularity often overshadows her technical ability, and her sound. Both artists are dismissed as one-dimensional based on the portion of their work that hits the charts. This is understandable, considering both artists produce stylistically unattractive moments on almost every album. However, if you really dig into Drake, you’d hear a decent rapper. Not my favorite by any means, but decent. Similarly, but to the extreme, if you really dig into Nicki Minaj, you’d hear one of the most skilled rappers of all time. Her influence on rap as an industry is immeasurable. From her mainstream sexual branding to her marketing and release strategies, to her pure skill and style on the microphone, she sets the standard for any rapper wishing to straddle the lines of hip-hop and pop. Minaj, in my book, is the undisputed queen of rap. This year, she was tasked with expanding her legacy after years away. Nicki Minaj, as good as she is, has never been the strongest at crafting a well-executed, complete album. This holds her back from certain elite conversations. Her flows and bars are consistently elite, but her thematic focus and song curation occasionally fall short. This isn’t to say she hasn’t made good albums, in fact she has some classics. But their status benefits greatly from their chart-topping hits and far-reaching influence. Even if they weren’t perfectly crafted masterpieces, Pink Friday , The Pinkprint , and Queen defined their respective eras of mainstream rap and have aged gracefully due to Minaj’s looming presence and unshakeable relevance. However, until the recent release of Pink Friday 2 , Nicki Minaj hadn’t made an album since 2018, raising the question: can she deliver in a culturally significant way? Although Minaj is still relevant, five years removed, she’s a clear notch below her prime popularity. Mainstream rap is heavily reliant on being in style, and she hasn’t been this far on the outside since she secured a feature on Kanye West’s “Monster”. That was in 2010, this is 2023. The Samples Danny Brown revealed sometime in the last 10 years (time flies when you can’t find the date of the video) that when constructing his critically acclaimed album Atrocity Exhibition , he expended so much of his production budget on securing the rights to samples, prior to rollout and other post-production expenses, that he initially lost money on the album. An up-and-comer at the time, Brown’s inexperience with fiscal management and industry norms, coupled with his enthusiasm for the music, led to him being broke when his 2016 record was released, and consequently, he stayed in the red for the years that followed. While I’m certain Nicki Minaj wasn’t scrolling through Danny Brown content on Instagram, she seems to be very aware of her capacity for luxurious samples. She lets you know immediately with “Are You Gone Already” , which samples Billie Eilish’s “when the party's over” . Off the top of my partially focused head, I can’t think of any other song that samples a song that charted so recently. If you read the Genius annotation, this is pitched as a collaboration between Eilish, Minaj, and FINNEAS, but in reality it’s a remix of the pop hit with a partial lyrical alignment between the rap verses and sampled refrain that sets the tone. Meanwhile on “Pin k Friday Girls” and “Super Freaky Girl,” Minaj attempts to assemble poppy anthems around “Girls Just Want To Have Fun” and “Super Freak,” respectively. A common criticism of rap, uttered by many including Prince, is that sampling is a way to construct your ‘music’ entirely around someone else’s work. This implies that a rapper jumps in the studio and begins vocalizing over a slightly restructured version of someone else’s original. Anyone who’s listened to intricate sample-work, (check out The Alchemist), would understand this is an inaccurate, outmoded take. And now you’ll have to brace yourself for an immediate contradiction. On all three of the aforementioned songs, Minaj only makes slight alterations to the original song, cutting verses and adding drums and bass. She even lazily chipmunks Blondie’s “Heart of G lass” f or the chorus of “My Life” . The basic repackaging of all these former hits allows Nicki Minaj to lay down different personas over a canvas that was painted for her. This is a fine strategy on paper, but so is fouling Shaquille O’Neil every time he touches the ball. It’s just not what we’re here for. Danny Brown didn’t have the money to spend, but he spent it anyway on creative sample selection, which he wove into one of the most unique individual album soundscapes in hip-hop history. So after five years away, Nicki Minaj had plenty of money to spend, and she chose to spend it on a random shuffle of chart-topping hits. The Flows Switching to the positive, Nicki Minaj has one of the most multifaceted vocal delivery skillsets of all time. She can rap in a variety of speeds, moods, even accents. At this stage in her career, sustaining an elite level of vocal expertise is easier said than done. Legendary rappers like Eminem or Q Tip, for example, have been rendered vocally unimpressive in recent years. In other words, it’s possible to age out of your flows. Minaj hasn’t. Pink Friday 2 ’s second track, “ Barbie Dangerous,” comes out firing as the jumping-off point of the album. She works with pace and precision, setting a high standard that she maintains for the majority of the album. Whether it’s going bar-for-bar with J Cole (he’s on a tear) on “Let Me Calm Down,” embracing Lil Uzi Vert’s 2023 sound on “Everybody,” bringing in the island sound on “Forward From Trini,” or parading her early-career princess persona on “Pink Friday Girls,” Minaj delivers on expert rap performance after another. That kind of versatility is invaluable. It often allows Minaj to act as her own feature, considering her seamless shapeshifting from verse to verse. Frankly, that’s what holds this album together. The Givens If you listen to Nicki Minaj, this album is nothing new. We know she can rap, and if we’re honest with ourselves, we know she can’t sing. She does it anyway, often singing on her own choruses and refrains despite her access to a plethora of alternative options. This is a stylistically misguided choice that rappers like J Cole also fall victim to. However, unlike Cole, she often compiles mistakes by failing to supply sufficient instrumental backing on songs that emphasize her singing. But, like I said, I knew it was coming. I also knew this album would bring a mixed bag of features. J Cole and Lil Wayne deliver on tracks 6 and 7, while Drake and Future flop on tracks 9 and 19. I also knew there would be a mix of moods, which could be interpreted as aimless or diverse. “Fallin 4 You” is one of the best executed, vulnerable songs of Minaj’s career, while “Bahm Bahm” mirrors Minaj’s classic energy-infused club-radio formula. I knew the album would be defined more by its hits than skips. I knew the Barbs would make sure the album charted regardless of merit. I knew what to expect, and although I hoped for something else, (more out of desperation for the unpredictable than dislike for the usual), I was right. Nicki Minaj made another album, and it’s much like her others. Its mainstream relevance is measured in comparison to her past releases, but in proportion to her current cultural standing. The album scores points for it’s highlights, “Red Ruby Da Sleeze” and “Super Freaky Girl,” to name a few, but loses points since those singles were released 9 and 16 months ago respectively. Pink Friday 2 gave me so little to expand upon that I spent most of my energy analyzing Nicki Minaj’s mindset around sampling. So, to bring this review to a conclusion in a fittingly generic fashion, here’s a cliche to summarize the experience of Pink Friday 2 : For every push in one direction, there’s a pull in another. My disappointment stems from predictability, yet the inalienable positives of the Nicki Minaj sound push this album slightly into positive territory. I think the blank stare with which I’m listening to and writing about this album is the best summation of its quality, but I’ll give it a score nonetheless. Pink Friday 2 is a 5.3/10.

VOIR DIRE : RELEASED By: Ian Sherry 9/11/2023 On August 29th, 2023, Earl Sweatshirt and The Alchemist released their collab album Voir Dire . It features warm, sample-heavy hip-hop production via The Alchemist , and well-written verses by Earl Sweatshirt . With these two, that’s a given. However, Earl’s performances are all delivered with the same monotone cadence, which makes it hard to focus on his lyrical prowess. And, though his beats are catchy, most of them just loop or sustain the same, short-lived groove. It’s an exercise in simplicity. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it doesn’t give me a lot to say. I’m a fan of both artists, I was excited, and now I’m moving on. Voir Dire is a 5/10. Now for the article! Earl and The Alchemist whipped up a cute little album rollout this time around. Voir Dire came complete with internet lore, a strange streaming service, and NFTs! Can you feel my eyes rolling through these words? I get it, it’s just not my thing, and since custom album releases have become all the rage, I figured I’d take a stance. First of all, why? The easiest way to unpack any music industry phenomenon is to take a quick look around. For example, today’s context provides an immediate answer: everyone’s doing it. From Lizzo to Travis Scott , the mainstream has been taken over by album releases becoming a holistic experience. There are different methods, and Voire Dire is one such example. From the artist’s point of view, I can imagine it’s become a necessity to do something special to keep pace with consumer expectations. On top of fulfilling industry norms, it’s a creative and competitive opportunity: integrating personality into one’s music is a skill, and some are more skilled than others. Fortunately for the others, the release itself is a golden opportunity to put your personal spin on your artistic product. For Lizzo that meant a body positive mega-livestream. For Travis Scott, a huge tour complete with theatrical mosh-pitting. The commonality is an artist furthering whatever vibe they want for their album, whether it be positivity for an individual or pure energy for the biggest crowds. On a base level it's fun, and when done correctly, it can elevate a project. Let's not get carried away. Big rollouts set expectations. Regardless of the artist’s intent, everything they do in preparation for releasing an album feeds into the public’s perception and anticipation. Since the public tends to be very perceptive, that means the bigger you make it, the more pressure to deliver. So it better be good. Let’s talk about Donda . Kanye West , who seems to work his way into every article now, announced he’d be releasing the album Donda as an ode to his mother back in 2019. It was delayed and delayed, until its eventual rollout in 2021. That rollout was a failure. West tapped into all the theatrics, bringing out guests, selling tickets, and creating the ultimate spectacle. It was a massive celebration of the music industry superpower that is Kanye West. Once again, the purpose of an album rollout is to further the music’s message and bring the audience in closer before they hear the first note. So, now's a good time to remind you that the album was about Kanye’s mother, Donda West. Donda, not Kanye. Yet, the focus of the album’s content was all over the place, more reminiscent of a DJ Khaled ’s self-indulgent celebration on God Did than an introspective, vulnerable record like Jay-Z ’s 4:44 . Kanye packed the tracklist, loaded it with features, and his rollout mirrored that attitude: a celebration of himself packaged under his late mother’s name. Then, if his motives and focus weren’t already in question, he released Donda 2. The follow-up’s rollout was even more unique. In a move against the profit motivated industry executives, West released the literally incomplete album on the Stem Player in an effort to make money his own way. It’s always hard to say what West’s intentions are, but it seems like his mother’s name should’ve been kept separate. This is not artistic vision, it’s greed. As we delve further into the culture of the modern album release, I’m hopeful that artists can be more mindful and avoid crossing that line. The overall approach must stay on message and focus on the audience’s ability to receive it. Voir Dire again. Speaking of focus, let’s return to the Voir Dire . At first this album was an internet rumor. Then it was announced. And finally it became a complete rollout experience experience. As a fan of the two collaborators, I was excited that the album dropped without too long of a wait; that is, no advance release date was posted, a la Donda . Beyond that, their strategy provided anticipating fans with an opportunity to experience the content further through write-ups and NFTs. Did it pique my interest? Not especially. But their approach has merit, and I’m sure it’s resonating with the right audience. Voir Dire ’s release is a 8.5/10.

Gretel Hanlyn Live: Schubas Tavern 11/11/23 11/16/23 By Ian Sherry Schubas Tavern is exactly that, a tavern. The front of the house is a bar/restaurant, and as you squeeze between the bar and booths towards the back of the restaurant, past the bathrooms, you can see a show room open up. Gretel Hänlyn and company played in that show room last Saturday, and anyone who came got a good show. Ever heard of Natsuma? If you have, I need to step my game up. The young British guitarist/vocalist led off the night, and despite playing solo, she impressed. To account for the thinner instrumental, she used a loop pedal, which, as Natsuma explained to her audience, allows an artist to play an instrument, loop a certain segment with a foot pedal, and build a layered instrumental. Despite this demanding solo performance, her vocal talent was fully on display at certain points, even elevating certain songs for the live instrumental. That takes real talent. She’s touring with Gretel Hänlyn, so catch her if you can, and listen to “Miss You” as a sample. Now, before I get to the main event, I’ll give my two cents on Adelaide. The Chicagoland native filled in for Grace Bloom last minute and did a great job. They did a great job, to the visible relief of their bill-members, despite playing solo instead of with the full band they’re accustomed to. Compared to the previous performer, Natsuma, Adelaide was much safer. Considering the circumstances, and their laid back shoegaze style, safety is to be expected, and the safety worked. The vocals brought a hint of emotion, the guitar was moody and consistent, and the stage was set for Gretel Hänlyn. Check out “Needles & Pins” As I was saying: I was right. Back in May, I wrote an article highlighting Gretel Hänlyn and two other talented artists. When I found out Hänlyn’s tour was going to stop just 40 CTA minutes from me, I couldn’t miss it. As I spoke about briefly in “Putting You On Three”, one of Gretel Hänlyn’s strengths is instrumental layering. She creates big sounds and expertly buries her vocals in the middle of the mix. She is clearly the audible focal point, yet the instrumental is never thin. This balance is difficult enough to strike in the studio, I’d imagine doing so live isn’t any simpler. Hänlyn manages just fine. Natsuma sat in on guitar, along with a bassist and drummer. The result was noticeably fuller sound than the previous two artists, to no fault of their own. H er sound was fantastic, and although it took a verse or two for her to slip into a studio-level vocal pocket, once she found it she didn’t look back. The first striking vocal performance came a few songs in with “Slugeye”, which she pointed out was her first ever song on streaming services. From there she executed tracks from every corner of her growing discography, touching different pitches, tones, emotions, and personas. She stepped outside of her discography as well, performing three unreleased songs. I am confident that two of the three will be elite editions to her discography. There were no misses last Saturday. She elevated even my least favorite song of hers “Head of The Love Club” by transitioning out of one of my favorites, “Little Vampire”. She looped an electric guitar chord and let the grinding note repeat itself as she casually strolled back, set down her guitar, sipped some water, then approached the mic again to deliver a great vocal performance. I always found the grungy guitar repetition to be overbearing on the studio version, but performed live, where the instruments are generally tuned evenly, it is easier to digest; it was an impressive adjustment. Hänlyn is definitely the most experienced performer of the bill. While Natsuma entertained with witty moments and an explanation of the loop pedal and Adelaide stood in with an angsty but comfortable energy, Hänlyn dominated the stage. She conversed briefly with a guitar nerd in the audience, casually dissed LA, and used the mic as a prop to add to her performances. She kept the audience entertained from the moment she stepped on stage until the post-show greeting line disbanded. I’ve never been more confident in an artist’s future than Gretel Hänlyn. She has a unique, yet well-established, sound. She’s a comfortable performer. She’s appeared at Pitchfork London, Pitchfork Paris, Green Man, Wilderness, and Coachella. Plus, she’s 20 years old. What more could you ask for? I’ve heard the approaching releases, I’ve seen the live show, I’ve reviewed her newest EP. I’m absolutely certain that you should keep an eye and ear on Gretel Hänlyn. Stream her music, buy her vinyl, and go to her shows. You won’t be sorry.