Under City Lights 2019/2020 by uncl

2020 has arrived. We are officially in the third decade of the 21st century, and what

a decade the previous one was. I am sure that the twenty-teens presented all of you with countless challenges and transformations, as it did for yours truly, just a small-town girl who took to the metropolis (cue ‘Don’t Stop Believing’). It seems to me as though every moment, good or bad, has been accompanied by a song, an album, an artist that brings you right back. It is a bewildering thought that when we put our headphones in or turn on our speakers each and every person hears the same thing. Music is the ultimate accompaniment to life. Its effects are boundless whether communal or individual, physical or emotional. My youth happened to Lorde’s Pure Heroine, Marina & The Diamonds, and The XX but also Nicki Minaj’s Pinkprint and Seinabo Sey’s endless brilliance – each eclectic contribution marks how much has changed in the past ten years. The 2010’s brought us a never-ending list of instant hits and iconic albums. From Robyn’s Body Talk, PJ Harvey’s Let England Shake, Björk’s Vulnicura and Nick Cave’s long-awaited Ghosteen to Frank Ocean’s channel ORANGE and the revival of Solange, this decade presented us with pop sensations Justin Bieber, Zara Larsson, Ariana Grande’s stool-posing, Kendrick Lamar’s DAMN, Troye Sivan’s journey into the spotlight, Cardi B’s history-making ‘Bodak Yellow’, SZA, Rihanna’s Anti, the incomparable vocals of FKA Twigs and lest we forget Vampire Weekend Father of the Bride, Rosalía and the rise of the sad girl brought by Lana Del Rey’s iconic Born To Die. As the decade concluded we saw an upswing in country music brought to you by Orville Peck and Kasey Musgraves, and what may be the dwindling of cancel culture. This was the decade of gained and lost greatness – Prince, Amy Winehouse, David Bowie, Etta James, Whitney Houston, Leonard Cohen, Aretha Franklin. We should also not forget that the years 2010-2019 marked a decade of statements. I am pleased to say that thanks to everyone from Pussy Riot to Childish Gambino, Rap Against Dictatorship to Beyoncé the post-naughty era of the 2010’s has been unable to keep the politics out of music. The past ten years have represented a huge step forward for our collective consciousness, for representation, and yet also a big step back as right-wing movements increasingly gain ground across the world, xenophobia defining much of our political future (Nancy Pelosi, save us). Before you is a copy of Under City Lights bringing together all of these aspects. I am proud to present this print edition – the space where genres collide, where well-established and up-and-coming artists meet, where politics and art interact.This publication is a true reflection of the passion for music that unites our diverse community. Hard work and collaboration. So, don’t hold back, crank up the volume listening to your favourites whilst reading this 2019-2020 issue, situated right in-between the past and the future. Anna Hofman, Editor-in-Chief

The (second) Mellowing of Nick Cave, Angus Colwell

Review: Devendra Banhart - MA, Fatima Jafar

A Trip to St. Vincent’s Souvenir, Diletta Lobuono

Review: Lord Huron, Austin Scheerer

An Interview with Nuuxs, Nikou Jahanshahi Alemi

Review: Back to the Retro Future: Haroumi x Brut, Alex Rednaxela 20 Review: Joy Crookes @ NikeLab 1948, Anaa Haider

Rappers & Restaurants, Wilfred Skinner

Review: Brockhampton - Ginger, Joe Hawley

An Interview with GAZEL, Anna Hofman

5 Female Rappers To Follow, Charlie J.

Review: Clairo @ Electric Ballroom, Emily Murphy

Queering Country, Kit Gullis

Review: Skepta @ Olympia, Louis Miller

The Rise (and Rise) of Prospa, Sophie Duley

Mac Miller’s Circles & Posthumous Albums, Charlotte Stanbridge

Special Feature: Decade In Review

Contributors

I was stood in a field in Werchter, a small sea boots — and self- acknowledged village near Leuven in Belgium, July 2018. Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds had just played for an hour, and Arctic Monkeys were closing the festival. In between there was an act I only half-knew called Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. “Oh yeah, they did the Peaky Blinders theme”, I said to my friend, a snivelling mess by this point of the festival, “that one should be good at least”.

(“what’s all this light doing?”). Despite the well-documented tragedy of Cave’s last few years (the death of his son Arthur in 2015 from falling off a cliff after taking LSD), on stage this is a man having fun.

Whether laborious touring and musicmaking is (in fact) Cave’s therapy, it seems an easy conclusion to jump to - he has all but admitted it is. But the trilogy of albums To say that Cave’s performance reduced he has released, 2013’s Push The Sky Away, the field to a standstill implies that Belgian 2016’s Skeleton Tree, and 2019’s Ghosteen crowds are big on moving anyway, but the represent three of the most remarkable alfact that the subsequent Arctic Monkeys’ bums released this decade. The breadth of set felt like a chore to be endured in comhis career should not be underestimated. parison. No one can follow Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. His set moved us to tears In May 2001, the author Nick Hornby with our ears straining to hear his browrote an article entitled “The mellowing ken whispers for ‘Girl in Amber’, and the of Nick Cave” in The New Yorker. At the next moment made the eardrums bleed in turn of the millennium, he documented ‘Jubilee Street’. People stopped coughing Cave’s transformation from the chaotic, and noses stopped running. The cacophony shocking, violent frontman of The Birthof noise from the Bad Seeds, led by the ragday Party, to the whimsical, melancholy ged Captain-Birdseye-but-with-meth Waragnostic ruminating about faith on The ren Ellis, is more than a foil to Cave — it Boatman’s Call. Since 2001, he has underis mesmerising in itself. Cave captivates an gone another mellowing, this time of a audience like no other. It should be said more eschatological sort. The most famous that my friends and I didn’t know more song of Cave’s early career, The Mercy Seat, than one Nick Cave song (and it seemed now reads quite differently - the rebel yell like neither did the audience), but our has become a plea to God. It’s hard to receyes never left him even during the tenommend a seven-minute long documentaminute epics we had never heard before. tion of a man about to be executed by the His vampirish look is well cultivated — electric chair featuring the same chorus impeccably tailored black suits and Chel15 times in a row without sounding like a prick (yet I try). But Cave’s reflection on the focal line of the song points to his “I wake up in mad change of outlook: “before I was able to panics about death write things like, ‘I’m not afraid to die’. I approaching” don’t feel that way anymore. I don't feel as

cocky about death as I used to. I wake up in mad panics about death approaching.” This, combined with personal tragedy might hint to an increasing introversion on Cave’s part, but if he has been anything over the course of his long career then it is confrontative. In the 1980s, this meant punching journalists in the head and attacking them with spatulas, but in the 2010s confrontation has taken a gentler form. He has spent the last few months setting up a website (Red Hand Files) where fans can write in and ask him anything, and in 2019 he went on an audience Q&A tour without a moderator. On both the tour and the website, Cave has answered the trivial of course (“do you smoke?”), but his answers to the more profound are delivered with the grace of a preacher, the authority of a loving parent, and the non-pretension of a friend. His response to a fan on the topic of grief made the homepage of the BBC News website, and was circulated widely (“if we love, we grieve”). On his new album Ghosteen, Cave has abandoned narrative and committed himself to atmosphere. All in the name of grief. 2016’s Skeleton Tree, released a year after Arthur's death, was not a response album — the lyrics were mostly completed by the point of his death. If it is difficult to hear Skeleton Tree without thinking of Arthur, then it is impossible not to hear Ghosteen in these terms as well. Arthur, as the “ghosteen dancing” follows Cave, similarly to the presence Cave felt in his letter to the fan (“dead grief trails bright phantoms in

“NICK CAVE IS ONE OF THOSE BIG DAUNTING ARTISTS” its wake, these spirits are ideas...create your spirits, call to them, will them alive, speak to them”). At times Cave’s thoughts are painfully clear (“my baby’s coming back now on the next train”), and at others hard to grasp — what are we to make of the album’s opener about Elvis and Priscilla Presley tending to a castle forest? The answer is to enjoy the atmosphere. The swirling, vulnerable synthesisers of Warren Ellis and the Bad Seeds are truly cinematic and the crux of enjoying Nick Cave. Look up the lyrics after, if you want to, and you will find rich poetry, but Cave is a musician, not a poet. It is the music in itself that captivates. Nick Cave is one of those big daunting artists. Like Leonard Cohen, Radiohead, Tom Waits and Aphex Twin — those who are yet to listen are often convinced not just that they will not like , but that they won’t get it. While this may be because of intimidatingly devoted fanbases, their enthusiasm comes out of obsession, not pretension. There is an assumption that to enjoy artists like Nick Cave, the whole discography must be devoured, the canon analysed. I got into Nick Cave after seeing him live, and through the recent albums. If you enjoy most moody alt-rock, you will like Push the Sky Away. It is an excellent, yet prototypical, rock album. Skeleton Tree, the most accomplished of the trilogy,

only requires empathy, not a grounding in the complete works. Similarly, Ghosteen, the last instalment, resembles more of a cinematic experience - the ambient soundscapes evoke M83, but with the gentleness of a late-career Johnny Cash. Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds are playing at the O2 this May — if you can see them, do go. All other gigs will seem dry in comparison. Paradoxically enough, I’d encourage you to not listen to any Nick Cave before going. Why? Because I think it was that sense of shock, that otherworldliness and the unpredictability was what captivated me when I first saw him. I’m looking forward to seeing him in May immensely - if he injected that much life into a Belgian crowd who tutted when we danced, I can’t wait to see him in London.

devendra banhart - ma devendra banhart - ma devendra banhart - ma devendra banhart - ma devendra banhart - ma by Fatima Jafar After many recurrent listens on the tube, in my bedroom, and on a plane over an ocean, Ma— the newest album of Venezuelan-American artist Devendra Bahnart— now comfortably sits in the position of being my favourite out of all of his works. The album, released in September 2019, is a confident and unwavering expression of love and grief, of mourning and reverence, that does not shy away from jumping into the sticky puddles of unending sadness or compassion that are often so hard to navigate, let alone verbalise. Banhart manages to write and compose thirteen songs that each seem to celebrate and lament various slices of the experiences of growing older, facing the deaths of friends and family members, and wanting to have a family— and a home— of one’s own. The album begins with ‘Is This Nice?’, a song that juxtaposes plucky guitars, swelling violins and Banhart’s crooning vocals to open up the album with a deeply self-assured pace, sampling John Lennon’s ‘Beautiful Boy’ to create a lullaby-like rhythm that sets the scene for the themes of parenthood and nostalgia that continue throughout the album. In ‘Memorial’, Banhart’s eerie vocals seemingly echo in a hollow, sacred space as he sonically carves out a solemn elegy for a loved one who has died, using the tune of Leonard Cohen’s ‘One of Us Cannot Be Wrong’ as a backbone for approaching the theme of death. Banhart sings “I know it don’t work that way/But maybe you’ll come back some day”, encapsulating the sense of disbelief that comes with a life being cut short, and the inability to comprehend how death cuts through linear time with such a jarring stroke. In frequently referencing other artists throughout this album— from John Lennon and Leonard Cohen to Carole King in ‘Taking a Page’, Banhart imbues each song with a kind of authority and timelessness that bleeds throughout the album: we begin to understand that the themes Banhart covers in his songwriting are universal ones; emotions that countless artists have explored

before, and Ma exists as a reverent, heartfelt extension of their artwork, a pastiche built upon the varied layers of art that Banhart has experienced and enjoyed throughout his life. The album is punctuated with lighter elements as well, such as in ‘Love Song’, where Banhart masterfully fashions a dream-like ode to falling in love. The horn arrangements and smooth rhythm are so fluid and effortless— the song shimmers, and slickly glides on as he sings “love like falling, without ever landing/… this is that feeling”. Banhart is in love with the feeling of falling in love, and constructs this song to commemorate that glittering sentiment. For me, the climax of the album is in ‘Taking a Page’, which bursts at the seams with the ironic phrases and vivid imagery that are typical of his work. His voice quivers with excitement as he asks ‘Do you ever think that colours say/Hey! Who’s your favourite human?’”. His wide-eyed curiosity bleeds into wry irony as he pokes fun at himself and the act of political performance, singing emphatically ‘I’m in my ‘Free Tibet’ shirt that’s made in China!’. Banhart explores the tensions between emotions like unrequited love, sadness, anger— which seem universal, important, almost holy— and the constant presence of neoliberal capitalism in our lives today when he writes “All the death in my house makes it easy to shop online/Where the signal is strong, and the tech flows like wine”, in ‘Kantori Ongaku’. As Banhart tries to work through these visceral experiences of human life, he sits inside the confusing space between the primordial and modern: he writes “talking to an entity, made of endless night/I dream in TV dialogue, a world of shadow and light”— he is trying to understand these big, swelling relationships humans have with love, death, and God, in the context of an online world. Ma unfurls slowly, forgivingly, with each passing song, opening up gradually to the listener as Banhart dives deeper into his internal world. As I listen to this album more, it begins to feel increasingly personal, like a gift directly from Banhart’s hands to my own.The intimacy of many of his songs, and the way he writes emotion so unblushingly, is increasingly refreshing to hear. On his bandcamp, Banhart writes “Ma means ‘mother’ in pretty much every language.The album is kind of everything I would say to a child”.The album definitely feels like a celebratory cataloguing of human life, an almanac for growing older, intricately and tenderly composed by Banhart and left somewhere hidden, secret, for the listener to find and pick apart endlessly— whether on the tube, in a bedroom, or on a plane over an ocean.

A TRIP TO ST. VINCENT’S

SOUVENIR BY DILETTA LOBUONO A new, slightly unusual, cocktail bar opened last Friday, November 22nd, in 6a Langley Street, Covent Garden. Sure, it was only open for two days, and thus very easy to miss, but for those who didn’t, it was an incredible couple of nights. I’m talking about Souvenir, a cocktail bar created by the Grammy-winning American songwriter and guitarist St. Vincent, real name Annie Clark, in collaboration with Veuve Clicquot, the world-famous French Champagne house. If you know and love the St.Vincent as much as I do, you will also be very familiar with her eccentricity and peculiar creative vision. Suffice to say, during the last leg of her tour, she kindly asked her musicians to play with their faces completely covered, leaving the crowd wondering how and if they could even breathe. Humans dressed as aliens, deformed faces and surreal interviews were all part of the videos and promotion of her last album, Masseduction. For this project, Clark wanted to give life to a place where everyone would immediately step into another, parallel dimension and multisensory experience, and, I have to say, she absolutely succeeded. To do this, she worked with a collective of new creators, designers, and mixologists who helped her to achieve the desired result. It is true that Souvenir bar

was a group effort, but you could easily tell that every detail, from how the drinks were presented and served to the music played by the DJ, was born out of her unique mind. Driven by curiosity, and ready to be faced with weirdly dressed waiters and creepy art installations, I decided to drop by on the Friday around eight o’clock. After a couple of wrong turns, I finally found the place, hidden in one of the many side streets of the maze that is Covent Garden. I walked in what seemed to be a very dark and slightly disturbing place. “Here we go”, I thought. Fortunately, my friend came to my rescue and together we went downstairs where the party was already happening. Here, I found someone that I definitely didn’t expect to see: St. Vincent, usually very private and shy, now serving free cocktails to astonished customers (mainly over-excited and shaky fans handing her questionable hand-made gifts that she pretended to like). Candidly admitting to everyone approaching that she didn’t have a clue how to make cocktails whilst pouring huge amounts of champagne and random combinations of drinks into glasses, she affably smiled and talked to everyone, surrounded by cameras, phones and LPs asking to be signed. By her side was Pippa Guy, a champagne cocktail expert and mixologist, helping her, which was probably the only reason why no one was poisoned that night. After a short, hopefully not too awkward, conversation with the special host of the evening, I ventured around and started to notice all the details of the place; from the delicious smell permeating the whole room and the warm pink and orange lights to the carefully picked tunes, everything seemed to fit perfectly, and the athmosphere, relaxed but sophisticated, was simply incredible. The waiters, although not as weirdly dressed as I had expected, wore fashionable outfits matched with red eyeshadow. Unique clothes and extravagant makeup are an essential part of St Vincent’s artistic world and these three nights - including the VIP opening night on the 21st - weren’t an exception. To create the perfect outfits for this special event, Clark worked with the visionary fashion designer Matty Bovan and the London-based makeup artist Sarah Reygate, her faithful collaborator, who she repeatedly thanked on her Instagram profile before and after the event.

Clark also collaborated with the design collective Rotganzen, giving life to two beautiful art installations for the upper floor, and with the plant-based Food Studio Plates London. Food – in reality a few miniscule snacks - wasn’t great in itself, but the way it was served... to say that it was surprising would be an understatement. Intrigued by the large group of people hanging around the right side of the room, I approached it with its futuristlooking white wall and stood there waiting for a few minutes. At first nothing was happening, just yellow lights going on and off. All of a sudden, gloved hands reached out from the holes, offering us tiny portions of food and not retracting until someone took it. Then, out of nowhere, a guy dressed in black appeared and started singing an opera version of ‘Common People’, providing the visibly tired St. Vincent with an opportunity to slip away through the back door undisturbed and unseen. The place unsurprisingly emptied little by little, as ‘regular’ barmen were now serving cocktails and started charging for them, but the vibe stayed the same. Everyone had fun until closing around midnight. My friends and I left around half past eleven, still asking each other “what the hell just happened?”

It’s not often you come across an artist that somehow manages to change their sound so significantly across only a few albums while sounding virtually unchanged. Yet somehow, LA based four-piece Lord Huron have managed to do it. They started their musical career in 2010 as a solo project by frontman, singer, and lyricist, Ben Schneider, who began adding members until he had a full band at his back. Their debut album, Lonesome Dreams, was released in 2012, followed by Strange Trails in 2015, and Vide Noir (French for ‘black void’) in 2018. Multiple songs of theirs have been featured in films and TV shows, such as A Walk in the Woods, Grey’s Anatomy, Vampire Diaries, 13 Reasons Why, and Community, to name a few. While genre classification can be incredibly subjective, I think it’s safe to say that Lord Huron can be considered an indie-alternative band. Within that category, however, they’ve experienced a change from indie folk to something more at home in the category of garage rock. Their first album, Lonesome Dreams has a romantic and almost playful tone to it while being wholly serious in its themes. It’s a very loose concept album, following the eponymous Lord Huron in his first encounter with soon-to-be-friend Admiral Blaquefut while he searches for

his lost love, Helen.The album was inspired by author George Ranger Johnson, who penned a series of 10 western novels between the 60s and 80s. Ever heard of him? If you answered ‘no’ that’s completely understandable, the-not-very-well-known author’s books are the type of thing that you’d be able to find in any given thrift store. If you answered ‘yes’ then I have some bad news: he’s a completely fictional person and only ever existed to give Lonesome Dreams context and inspiration. The really interesting thing about LD is that not only is it a story about these three characters, but frontman Schneider actually created his own little world about which he writes his music. Obviously, a concept album is usually built on fiction in order to tell a story, but rarely does the lore go deeper than the general story told through the songs. This is not the case for Lord Huron. There’s no overarching storyline to the album, but each song is from a specific character’s perspective and tells a small tale in the way they interact. All this culminates into an ethereal and extremely atmospheric pulp fiction (the genre, not the film) sounding album. Even the album cover gives off the same impression: a painting of a lone cowboy riding across sand dunes at night. Pretty fitting, I think. Strange Trails, their second LP, is also a loose

concept album, however one that’s darker sonically, lyrically and narratively. Schneider said in a 2015 interview with Grammy Pro: “I guess Strange Trails is kind of about not being afraid to confront sort of the dark side of life, and I think it’s healthy now and then to kinda stare into that void and just kind of be honest with your life.” This mentality is clear in the tone of the album, taking the late afternoon or warm and playful evening vibe of Lonesome Dreams, with its sounds of the wind and chimes and adding some harp, tambourine, and other instruments that give the album its mysterious and otherworldly atmosphere. Im agine a silent and heavily wooded Pacific Northwest coastline at the golden hour through to dusk; a little spooky and haunting, but beautiful at the same time.

beyond that it’s pretty different from both previous works. Schneider claims that the overall sound of the album was influenced by his nocturnal drives around Los Angeles and all the neon signs throughout the city. If the first two albums were sonically situated in the afternoon through the evening, Vide Noir is the dead of night. Instead of the desert or forests, we’ve travelled to cities, space and the cosmos beyond. On top of that is the introduction of electronic elements into the music as synthesizers feature heavily on the album. This change in instrumental arrangement creates a bizarre atmosphere, at times bordering on an out of body experience. The biggest culprit, so to speak, is the popular ‘Wait by the River’. It’s a surprisingly empty sounding arrangement when compared to the rest of the band’s catalogue. Its lethargic waltz rhythm I first found Lord Huron in 2015 through would put it perfectly at home as the soundone of the singles, ‘Fool for Love’, closely track to a film scene where a character is followed by ‘The Night We Met’, their walking through LA in an altered state. perhaps most famous song to date. After that it was a few songs here and there, The final track on the album, ‘Emerald Star,’ namely ‘Time to Run’ and ‘Meet Me in the shares a similar tone, but leaves the album on Woods’. It was at this point that I thought an extremely melancholic note. I personally that, while a great songwriter, Schneider find that it sounds like the ‘main character’ kind of only wrote, like, three songs. Fine of the album has given up and is simply driftwith me, since the songs included, first, a ing off into the great unknown, an image melody I really liked and, second, a lot of mirrored by the lyrics. It’s a beautifully sad artists have “tells” or motifs in their music way to end a record. The great thing about that they subconsciously use a lot. It just this album is that it is a very different sonic happens. Having listened to the band for a direction for the band, but it’s not quite in while, I came to realize that it was so much the realm of experimental, making it accesmore than that, especially when looking sible for newcomers in digesting the music. to Vide Noir, an album that is straight up weird. And I mean that in the best pos- Overall, Lord Huron’s music over the past sible way. Similarly to Strange Trails, Vide decade is still very Lord Huron soundNoir has recurring melodic motifs but, ing, just modified here and there. One of

the most intriguing aspects of the band is Schneider’s ability to write melodies that can only be described as narrative, in the sense that they act as motifs or ‘themes,’ much like you would hear in a film score. The band has been quiet since the release of Vide Noir, but a single show has been announced for this summer at the famous Red Rocks Amphitheater in Colorado. And like many fans, I hope they use that show to announce more material in the near future but until then, I’m happy to wait and relive the timeless journey they’ve currently created.

an interview with

nuuxs

by Nikou Jahanshahi Alemi

“We had no contact with the outside world… We weren’t allowed to listen to music… I didn’t really knwow anything about anything”: alternative singer-songwriter NUUXS opens up about her experience growing up in a cult, and how music has been part of her healing process. NUUXS explained that she had grown up in Hackney with her single mum, describing it as: “as tough as it can be when you’re sort of struggling with life”. Her mum then moved them to the rural north and remarried a very religious man, who bound them into a Christian cult when she was just ten years old. NUUXS describes growing up in a cult as “weird”; she was not allowed to stay in contact with any friends or family, not even her biological father. She told me that her new stepdad changed all their numbers, and even made them move house, so that no one could find them. When I asked her to describe her life in the cult, she outlined that the small and intimate community allowed her stepdad to take control of everything. She told me it was tough to leave, as there was a lot of mental abuse and control, but, eventually, she started asking questions and then finally ran away from it all. Even once she managed to escape, NUUXS told me that, due to the embedded rhetoric of the cult, “I always thought in the back of my head that the devil was going to get me”. But, she reasoned that growing up in this strange environment is “just my story, I guess it’s made me who I am today”. NUUXS tells me that being cut off from the outside world meant that when she finally left the cult she felt completely detached from pop-culture, and we discussed whether she had a reactionary response to the years of musical absence in her life. She explained that: “I was just inspired by everything… I learnt from a lot of session players, so I got into bands and they’d teach me all about jazz and funk and I was just like ‘oh my god, I can’t believe I don’t know any of this’. You know a lot of people thought I was joking when I didn’t know who... I don’t know... Aretha Franklin was. And, I’m like, I’m serious! I don’t know who she is. In a way it’s been fun learning at a later stage I guess.” Her wonderfully idiosyncratic brand of pop fuses soul and cinematic elements with classic pop beats, and when I asked her about what genre she would place her own music into, she replied: “I’d definitely place my stuff into pop for sure. My earlier stuff is more piano and dark bass. I think I was going through a healing process through those songs.” She went on to note that “because I learnt about music a bit later in life, I’ve just got a different quirk to the way I do things, I guess.”

Touching on music as a means of healing, she said that “a lot of my songs are based on my own experiences, some of them are based on friends’ experiences, so I try to write from the heart as much as possible. When I felt like I couldn’t speak about things I’d find myself understanding what the artist meant by listening to their lyrics and I thought if I can give that to someone else then that’d be my job done.” Her new mixtape Red Tape,Vol.2 launched on August 31st, and her single ‘Safe’ launched on May 17th. “I was up until just after midnight waiting for the single to come out. I’m really so excited about this song and for everyone to hear the whole mixtape together. I didn’t want it to be an album because I felt I was still experimenting with my sound but, it’s definitely the lead up to my first album so I’m really excited.”

“THE ONLY PERSON WHO’S ACTUALlY GONNA MAKE YOU FEEL THE BEST IS YOURSELF“ She broke down physically and mentally while writing her singles: “The first single ‘No Good For Me’ is basically about me cutting toxic people out of my life and I think that’s how the rest of Red Tape Vol.2 came about. So many times, you just put up with things and you just think what am I putting up with all this rubbish for? The anthem of Red Tape Vol.2 is about just having fun, being you and doing what you need to do. Not just me personally but everyone in general.” Her single ‘Options’, she explained, is about having giving yourself ‘options’, no matter what: “There’s been times that I couldn’t get out of bed feeling so down you just think you’re never gonna get out of that place, and then you do.” Finally, ‘Alive’ “is about celebrating yourself ”, thus concluding her process of struggle and healing with a message of hope. To the reader and listener, she wanted to convey, “without sounding preachy”, that “the only person who’s actually gonna make you feel the best is yourself so you’ve got to be willing to change certain aspects of your life to get to that point. I still do that every single day… When you love yourself, the rest of the world will love you too, and even if they don’t, at least you have yourself.” So, what’s next for NUUXS? “I wanna get back into the studio and finish this album project I’ve had in my mind for a while which I’m really excited about. But I also have lots of gigs coming up and I wanna do some more shows up and around the country and in Europe for now, and then see where it goes from there...”

BY ALEX REDNAXELA

BY ANAA HAIDER 26

Having been a big fan of Joy Crookes’ music for a while, going to her secret show at NikeLab 1948 in Shoreditch was an opportunity I simply could not miss. At around 2:30 p.m. on the day, “one of the most exciting artists to emerge in the music scene this year,’” as highlighted by Vogue, posted an Instagram video with details telling everyone interested to be at the venue before 6:30. We were told it was first come first serve entry to the venue with the promise of food and henna if we managed to successfully make it in. Having arrived early we joined the pre-existing queue (a great call considering everyone arriving after six was told the likelihood of getting in was near impossible.) Once we had received our wristbands, we entered the venue that was once a Nike store but now permanently closed, specially reopened for this particular night and decorated in a way that can only be described as resembling an Apple store. Glass walls and several white platforms were decorated with Nike merchandise making it apparent which brand was sponsoring the gig but overall, NikeLab 1948 was a great location to host such an intimate performance

since the atmosphere was one that fit Crooke’s vibe and aesthetic perfectly. As soon as us lucky ones managed to make it in, we were welcomed by a bar offering to serve any drink you wished, completely free of cost. Something that struck me instantly, was how the atmosphere of Crookes’ gig almost entirely encapsulates precisely what her music and message is about: the celebration of diversity and the beauty in collaborations between various cultures. Crookes’ Irish heritage was honoured and represented perfectly by the special Irish whiskey cocktail named after her, whilst the henna stall set up by her best friend celebrated her Bangladeshi side. The catering for the event further represented a different culture, having been organised by her friend and serving everyone Vietnamese food. Not only does Crookes manage to perfectly embody the unification of various cultures within one space, but her fanbase appears to epitomize this, almost as if she herself has curated an audience which perfectly fits her musical persona and essence. Everyone there was extremely friendly and welcoming, with all of us sharing stories of where we came to the show from, finding commonality in our

music tastes and the excitement to see one of our favourite artists perform.We chatted about where in London we

came from, how we discovered Crookes’ music as well as our music tastes in general, which further showed the wide variety of people Crookes’ music appeals to, as people with highly different musical backgrounds appreciated her sound enough to make it to her show, some even leaving work early for her performance. Before the show Crookes was walking around greeting people and chatting to her friends, even briefly stopping to greet a few of us in the queue for food making her friendly nature clear as well as her genuine appreciation for everyone who came to see her. As the time crept closer to eight o’clock, Crookes and her guitarist and long-time member of her band, CJ Monneraud made their way on stage where Crookes began on a sincere note, thanking everyone who came out to see her. She started her set with one of her most famous tracks of her most recent EP, Perception, ‘Hurts.’ Crookes’ genuine surprise when the audience sung every word back to her was hard to miss, as she kept saying “Oh my gosh” during the performance, finding it hard to believe how well versed everyone there was with her music.The powerful,

soulful voice that I was used to hearing from Crookes when listening to recordings sounded just as good, if not better, live due to the raw emotions coming through in her songs, something most poignant when she sang her popular tracks ‘Don’t Let Me Down’ and ‘Since I Left You.’ The benefits of growing up in the multicultural environment of south London is also something detailed by Crookes in many songs, her love for the city she grew up in and its diversity is clear in her melodious tune, ‘London Mine.’ When performing this however, she makes it even more current to the crowd whilst also making her political views very clear, swapping out the line “streets that are tailored to nowhere” in exchange for “Fuck Boris!” which warranted a roar from audience. Crookes appears to be a natural on stage, her enthusiasm was palpable to her audience and almost contagious, as she continually jokes and engages with her crowd making her performance even more entertaining. As she sang one of my personal favourites, ‘Two Nights’ Crookes took a swig of cherry wine after singing the line “chasing up the south with some cherry wine” and laughed with us, once again highlighting the light hearted atmosphere of her performance as well as the intimate crowd she sang to. The concluding song for the set was one of her oldest ones, from her first EP, Influence and although the growth in the production level of Crookes’ music is clear when tracking her two EPs after Influence, her initial themes and the soul in her lyrics are prevalent from the very beginning of her career. She sang the track ‘Power’ which one may assume would be fairly unknown, being released in 2017 when Crookes name was not as prominent how-

ever, since everyone in the audience was a long time fan, every word was sung back to her perfectly. Her shock at this did not go unnoticed as she couldn’t keep the beaming smile on her face and she dedicated the song about female empowerment to all the ladies in the audience, resulting in a near-deafening cheer from each and every one of us. As Joy Crookes’ performance came to a close, she once again thanked everyone who came out to see her and encouraged us to mingle after the show, cheekily winking as she told the single audience members to get chatting. Talking to people after the show made the strength of the singer-songwriter as a performer clear, with everyone praising her and her humble nature, as well as, her natural talent which cannot be overlooked in a setting where all we heard was her voice and a guitar to accompany it. After seeing her live, her title as one of the artists to Watch for 2019 by i-D, who call her music “powerful” and detail how the young “R&B prodigy is already captivating the globe with her unique sound” is undeniably fitting as the experience of a secret show was like no other. Seeing Crookes perform live only made me a bigger fan of her than I already was. Crookes’ sound is one that attracts fans from a variety of genres, as her soulful voice and relatable lyrics add authenticity to her music and make it resonate with audiences for a very long time. Her talent is undeniable and, to me, her growing popularity is greatly deserved.

Rappers & Restaurants BY WILFRED SKINNER

Pusha T has started beef again. In December, he opened a new ramen restaurant and cocktail bar in Washington DC, joining the likes of Drake, Nas, 2 Chainz, Krept and Konan, Pitbull, and Ludacris who’ve all put their fingers in pies these past few years, with varying degrees of success. Why is this still happening, and how is it any different to launching a clothing line, headphone brand or streaming service? The relationship between rap and food runs deep – Puff Daddy/(P.) Diddy/(Brother) Love was something of a pioneer, opening a restaurant in 1997. Elsewhere, chef/rapper Action Bronson has brought the two together on his ‘F**k, That’s Delicious’ show and both Snoop Dogg and Coolio have launched cookbooks. For artists, taking advantage of this has become another facet of brand

development and mogulhood. Often it’s brazen power play. Jay Z’s 40/40 sports bar boasts an 18-foottall champagne tower and in 2019 Drake and Pitbull opened high-end bar-restaurants. In the creation of a new kind of exclusivity, there’s an acknowledgement that traditionally exclusive spaces can be unwelcoming, snobby and sometimes racist. A restaurant is also a more tangible, fixed measure of success than record sales or streams. Since most are located in rappers’ hometowns they become an expression of civic pride – a way of giving back. Rappers repping the city in their bars have turned to setting up bars. A restaurant offers conviviality and perhaps broader appeal than a clothing line or a pair of headphones – in short, it’s a bit less of an ego trip. Sometimes new, more accessible spaces are established, like Krept and Konan’s Croydon dessert bar Crepes and Cones which serves halal, vegan food and alcohol. In the song released

While Brockhampton produce some of their best material on GINGER, for every great song there’s a track that’s unfocused and forgettable in equal measure. A lot has changed since Brockhampton’s breakthrough year in 2017. Their “Saturation Trilogy” saw them receive waves of unfaltering positivity, and it’s no wonder why. While a good review from Anthony Fantano certainly helped raise their profile no end, it was their quirky mix of wild characters, catchy hooks and emotional resonance that gave them a wide-reaching appeal. However, that swaggering devil-may-care attitude swiftly subsided in the light of two career-defining moments; their signing to RCA records and the exodus of bandmate Ameer Vann. One would have thought that enough had been said about Ameer at this point, and most fans seem to have moved on. Brockhampton have not. There are points on this album where it seems that Brockhampton are in danger of being defined by their setbacks, and it’s certainly quashed the swashbuckling attitude of their 2017 records. There are only one or two songs that offer respite from the constant melancholy that sweeps through most of GINGER. A song like ‘STAR’ or ‘SWEET’, from Saturation I and II respectively, would have been a welcome addition, as none of the songs on this record ooze with the endearing self-confidence that could be seen on albums gone by, and this absence is hard to ignore. Now it might be suggested that Brockhampton are facing the age-old problem of expectation. For example, after releasing three albums in one year, sites like Pitchfork are now labelling the 11 month wait for this album a ‘brief hiatus’, when a wait of this length is deemed perfectly normal for other artists. Comparisons to the “Saturation Trilogy” may also seem unfair; how can you expect Brockhampton to make another Saturation album when they are at a completely different time in their lives? The point is not that fans wanted GINGER to be “Saturation IV”,

but that those things that made Brockhampton such an enjoyable listen have now been smothered in often cheerless expositions of personal struggles.With no let up. It’s clear however that this is all very deliberate. On ‘HEAVEN BELONGS TO YOU’, Slowthai opens with the line “immerse myself in discontent … it smells like ginger”, pairing the title of the album with a clear sense of despondency. Then, on the title track, Matt Champion raps, “I don’t even love no more, I don’t even trust no more”. GINGER is not supposed to strut through your headphones with the confidence of a Saturation album. Instead, the album feels like a support group, with Brockhampton sitting in a town hall, somewhere in LA, talking through their struggles with only themselves for company. A select few are welcomed into the group, with Slowthai and Victor Roberts II being the two most notable inclusions. Slowthai’s feature was not him at his best, but he fit into the ebb of the album well, while Victor Roberts II stole the limelight on the album’s closer. Rapping over an emotive piano line, a formerly unknown voice tells a fantastically crafted tail of family and betrayal with the confidence of a rap veteran. Surely there is more to come from Victor. Despite the relentlessly heavy topics on display, Brockhampton do produce some fantastic and beautifully crafted songs on GINGER. The opener, ‘NO HALO’, is a perfect Brockhampton song. Each verse fits seamlessly over the squeakyclean production, and there is great group chemistry as the band rally in defiance against their individual struggles. Each band member provides a quality verse, with Merlyn showing his versatility in a beautifully low key performance. ‘DEARLY DEPARTED’ is another fantastic song. Although it re-treads some old ground around the Ameer exodus, it also explores dealing with fame and the death of a grandparent. However, it’s the instrumental that makes this song so special, along

with the raw emotion in the voices of Kevin, Matt and Dom. ‘SUGAR’ and ‘GINGER’ are two more great tracks, but as good as all these songs are, they are dispersed amongst songs which are forgettable and unfocused. The two biggest offenders are ‘I BEEN BORN AGAIN’ and ‘LOVE ME FOR LIFE’, which are just poorly constructed; one member raps after the next with no unifying hook or ideas. It’s hard to remember anything about these tracks, which is really all that needs to be said. One of the key issues with GINGER is that, although it’s easy to take issue with Brockhampton’s cheerlessness at times, the album’s most mediocre songs come when they try and aim for a more braggadocious or upbeat flavour. The couple of tracks where they shift their focus away from personal struggles lack any sense of character. ‘ST. PERCY’, for example, is supposed to be a confident statement on the band’s work ethic and success, but once again just ends up being album fodder for all intents and purposes.The beat is stripped back to the point of redundancy, with the odd sample included after the first verse appearing like an exercise in showing off production skills as opposed to building a well-constructed song. That said, GINGER is far from a bad album. In fact, it shows some promising signs for future projects, with Merlyn and JOBA showing more versatility than ever, and producers Romil and Jabari putting together some truly fantastic instrumentals. However, the boyband seems to be in a confused headspace right now, with Kevin Abstract even admitting, in a now officially deleted voice memo, that he’s releasing music out of an obligation to RCA records as opposed to out of joy, and that this is going to cause “messy albums, unfinished thoughts, unpolished thoughts”. He’s not wrong, GINGER is unpolished and a bit messy, but it does have some stand out moments that give grounds for optimism; as time moves on, and with the shadow of Ameer Vann and the weight of expectation from the “Saturation Trilogy” fading, there’s hope that the best of Brockhampton may still be to come.

AN INTERVIEW WITH

GAZEL

by anna hofman

“I want to start at the beginning. When did you start writing and playing music?”

This article was originally posted online in September 2019.

...I ask Gazel, sitting opposite her in the St. James’ Park grass. “The classical music bit started when I was five, when I started learning violin and piano, and did that relatively seriously until I was 12 or 13 when I started doing it really seriously” she replies. Around this age Gazel started attending the Royal Academy of Music and was “on the highway to becoming a classical musician”. However, the real breakthrough came three years later: “my parents got me a music sequencing software”, she lights up and laughingly adds “it was just so much more fun”. Ethereal- and electronic pop musician Gazel’s up-coming album Gazel’s Book of Souls, to be released on October 4th, is a journey and exploration into a number of different characters, or souls, as the album’s protagonist dialogues with them. From themes of death and insecurities to the liberation of the young mind Gazel, who grew up in Turkey and England, spans and breaches the formerly set idea of genre, evoking storytelling as her primary tool. Blending electronic soundscapes, pop, and swaying vocals, she spans across the globe in her use of instruments such as sitar, talking drums, and didgeridoo. “World music is part of my music and creations” Gazel denotes, “it’s what I’m used to”. To begin, I note that her industrial sound, like that of her 2016 EP Bone

Key, clearly has changed judging by the singles from her anticipated 2019 album. Gazel explains that Bone Key was created in the short space of a few months in her bedroom. “I recorded some violin” she adds, but most of the EP was made using her computer resulting in a more “garage-like sound”. Flash forward to 2018, Gazel takes place in a studio. Having previously interned at various studios, Gazel had already become familiar with being a producer and producing other artists. At that time, she real ized that what she enjoyed most was writing and producing for herself. Taking the centre stage was, however, harder than anticipated: “I wasn’t very good at being an artist”, she admits. “Usually”, she says, “the idea of an artist is that they get lifted up and brushed off ”, but not with Gazel, with her knowledge of working behind the scenes and being in control of her own work she finds herself in a position that goes beyond the corporate industry. Especially when comparing it to previous experiences working with producers controlling her sound. “None of their work ended up on any of my records”. This sense of control and having agency over one’s work has seemingly crept its way into her first album through singles like ‘You’re Not Funny’ dealing with rejection and judgment. Although Gazel underlines that the song was not directly influenced by specific experiences, it shines a light on the hardships young creatives face practically, even when being more knowledgeable

than the authoritative figure in front of them. Being in charge herself made the studio a space where she reigns and generates positive experiences. Having been compared to artists like Kate Bush, Bat for Lashes, and Björk I ask her about being young and female in the industry. Gazel clearly states that she has never really had to feel like a woman, she has not “had to look or be a certain way”. Gazel is happy to have started her singing career later than many other young artists. Knowing and finding yourself is crucial according to Gazel and “very hard at the age of 18 or 19”. At 27, she seems very happy and confident in who she is. “You seem so calm, focused, and serene on stage” I say and Gazel laughs. She notes that she is her calmest and most serene self in the studio and that her stage presence is almost like a split personality. I ask if finding this stage persona is like creating a character to which she agrees. She doesn’t shy away from the difficulties of becoming an artist as she notes that making the shift from taking care of everything behind the scenes to walking onto it is one of the hardest things: “I’m on the path to making that switch”. “What about your inspirations? What inspires you?” I ask curiously. Although drawing inspiration from many places Gazel has a clear answer - the most important sources are philosophy and stories. Stories are essential to Gazel’s imagination and creativity, particularly for this album. She reflects on her ties to fiction by explaining that she often cannot differentiate between it and reality. She fully immerses herself in the stories

she reads, in their world and emotion. Mythologies have become focal to Gazel. “We act like we don’t have mystery; the human has become omnipotent” Gazel states, arguing that it takes a toll on our imagination. “Having mythologies is avoidance of being lonely” she notes. In a world of systems and structures “storytelling is a break”, she proclaims, both for herself and others. Despite being an artist, Gazel pleads the case of silence and stopping the words, “they are not reality”. “I can do what I want and be what I want” she says, seemingly freed by the fact that taking part in the world can mean to break down and transcend its limits and preconceived notions. “We are not taught how to live” she declares. In her single ‘Rain is Coming’, Gazel tackles the miseducation of the young whilst simultaneously turning away from constricting societal paradigms. The video portrays a young girl running away from her current structured life, into freedom as Gazel speaks into her ear: “you better run, run, run”. When I ask about the girl, Gazel clarifies that she is the somewhat inner child in need of protection. “Each character of the album is like a protector around this inner child”, she explains. ‘Rain is Coming evokes societal change and speaks to how children, according to Gazel, are not taught necessary life skills like “how to distract your mind”. When Gazel explains that words come second to the music in her creative process it is not unexpected. Nevertheless, creating meaning through words is undeniably central. “I have a notebook, several ones, where I write dialogues”

“We act like we don’t have mystery; the human has become omnipotent” she tells me. These dialogues are often the base of the lyrics and are commonly between herself and a figure “of the older generation”, much like in ‘Mina’s Hymn’ – a song that ebbs and flows in intensity ranging from oceanic soundscapes to electronic bases and an almost shouting Gazel in a dreamscape-like exploration of death and the self. Words and significations are vital for the album and go hand in hand with the seeking of truth which the earliest release from the album, ‘Pointing at the Moon’, is a testament to. “Anywhere you go / I will call your name” Gazel sings as she, as seen in the video, searches for the truth in transcendence and books. Already from the beginning this album is an adventure, a journey to find understanding. Something which Gazel aspires to share with listeners as well as readers. In conjunction with the album, Gazel is currently writing a book, to be released alongside it. “It is clear what the songs are saying and doing”, she underlines, so instead of bulking out the album she has chosen to accompany her songs with the background story of the main character on her journey in meeting the souls.

As we pack up to leave the park, I have to ask Gazel a final question, if her name was a parental choice inspired by the old poetic form ghazal. “Everyone always asks if Gazel is my real name” she laughs, but nobody has yet made the asked about connection. “It’s a coincidence” she says. Without a doubt a very appropriate one, and one that frankly does not surprise me. There is something to Gazel, her somehow light and fleeting yet anchored personality. A quality that certainly shines through in this musically and thematically multifaceted album. Both Gazel and her Book of Souls cannot be described as anything but interesting, perhaps even confounding at times, and I’m excited to see what is to come.

(YOU SHOULD BE FOLLOWING)

BY CHARLIE J. Female rap has seen major changes over the past decade. A shift in pop culture has given recognition to the female rapper as a cultural icon in stark contrast to the genre’s urban and subversive origins in the 80s and 90s.The well-publicised and successful rise of rappers like Nicki Minaj and more recently Cardi B has paved the way for new artists with different styles, directions and approaches. For this reason, female rap is thriving. The genre boasts some of the most interesting artists of our time which, thanks to the pioneering work of their predecessors, now have a global platform. This is a list of current rappers that are most significant in my opinion. N.B.: I unfortunately had to remove many artists to fit with the title’s alliteration. Other fire rappers include, but aren’t limited to: Brooke Candy, Kash Doll, Princess Nokia, Dreezy, Leikeli 47, Maliibu Miitch, La Goony Chonga, Noname, City Girls, Little Simz, M.I.A. etc.

Rico Nasty “[She] in the coupe, coupe, coupe, coupe, coupe” The Maryland native rapper is renowned for her mosh-pit tracks and her hoarse and formidable flow. Rico has been making tsunami waves in all of her work but particularly in her collaborations with producer Kenny Beats with the EP Nasty. This trend culminated in the pièce-de-résistance, critically acclaimed Anger Management EP last year. The fearsome tracks of ‘Cold’, ‘Cheat Code’ (feat. Baauer) and ‘Big Titties’ (feat. Baauer and EarthGang) are juxtaposed with the heartfelt ‘Sell Out’, ‘Again’ and ‘Relative’ which tell Rico’s poignant story of grief, anger and growth. Recent collaborations with Brooke Candy, Doja Cat and the late XXXTentacion (‘FMU’, ‘Tia Tamera’ and “#PROUDCATOWNERREMIX” respectively) demonstrate Rico’s adaptability in different hip-hop spheres whilst creating some of the sickest bangers of 2019. Previous tracks of ‘Hey Arnold’, ‘Rick and Morty’ (w/ LIL PHAG and Dr. Woke) and ‘Sandy’ (of Spongebob fame) have ensured her popularity amongst her GEN Z compatriots whilst showing off her goofy side. Her feature on ‘Gucci Down’ and in particular her own track ‘Fashion Week’, stretch Rico’s style to smoother hip-hop and dissect head-on her love of designer labels and I personally relish this reinvention. I highly recommend the latter’s video which documents her first time at NY Fashion Week wearing some of the sickest lewks in existence.

Doja Cat “[She] be makin moooves”: Pop culture followers will certainly recognise this name with the L.A. rapper emerging in the game in early 2013, before making the viral ‘Mooo!’ (in which she raps from a bovine standpoint and clandestinely critiques the meat industry’s environmental impact) which amassed over 10 million views on YouTube in mere days. This self-professed E-girl is constantly changing her music style, leaning into hip-hop, R&B and the places in between with the playful ‘NintendHoe’ and the melodic ‘So High’ being just two facets of her talent. Doja surfed the immense tide of interest onto her debut album Amalain 2018 which further defined her tongue-n-cheek and candy-covered style with a mastery of doubleentendre. The album included the successful tracks ‘Tia Tamera’, ‘Cookie Jar’ and ‘Go to Town’ all dripping in her authentic charisma and originality. Moving onto her next project Hot Pink in late 2019, Doja deviated from her previous sound producing more subtle and clever tracks like ‘Bottom Bitch’, ‘Cyber Sex’ with heavier hip hop works like ‘Rules’ and topping it off with a remix of her

mega-hit ‘Juicy’’ now featuring Tyga. This track celebrates thiccness above all else and demonstrates perfectly Doja’s positive message ofself-love and unapologetic confidence which characterises all of her work. Her recent track ‘Bad Bitch’ on the Birds of Prey soundtrack is sure to propel her momentum further in 2020.

Tierra Whack “Penelope pooped on [her] pepperoni pizza”: The singer/rapper Tierra Whack (her real name) of Philadelphia origin is carving out a career both enviable and original in equal measure. Although hailed as the Missy Elliott of this generation, in my opinion, she is so much more. Appearing first under the name Dizzle Dizz, Whack was a renowned freestyle rapper before becoming a fully-fledged artist. Whack’s track ‘Mumbo Jumbo’ (which perhaps critiqued the genre of mumble rap) was praised for its incoherent rap and eccentric visuals and received a Grammy nomination and this praise only intensified upon the release of her debut album Whack World in 2018. The work was lauded for its 60 second tracks and the accompanying visual project in her characteristic whacky style. Last yearWhack released new tracks during #whackhistorymonth via Instagram again to critical acclaim. The stand-out track ‘Unemployed’ became viral in part thanks to its fire music video featuring innumerable anthropomorphic potatoes and Whack in the role of a thicc chef. It is probably one of the most, let’s say, interesting videos that I’ve ever watched. Whack continues to gain praise from big industry peers and was invited by Rihanna to perform at the New York Fashion Week Savage x Fenty show and in my opinion, put both Fat Joe and DJ Khaled to shame with her formidable performance of ‘Clones’. Whack is known for her creativity and original style which shifts from whimsical to thoughtful to brazen and has cited her love of poetry, spoken word and Dr Seuss as the origin of her skills as a lyricist.

Megan Thee Stallion “[She] keep it realer than real”: Hot Girl Meg (who gained the nickname Stallion due to the word meaning a tall, voluptuous woman in Southern slang) only further proves that there must be something in that Houston water owing to the amount of talent that comes out of this city; I’m talking Normani, Beyoncé, Solange, Travis Scott and many others. Originally known for her freestyles, Megan was aided by her mother (who was a former rapper herself) to create her own music but only after going to college. Meg’s first formal project Tina Snowdemonstrated her assured and commanding

rap style with the stand-out track ‘Big Ole Freak’ showing fans that she is never afraid to show-off her sexuality. In May 2019 she released her first full-length mixtape Feverwhich impressed critics and earned her a BET award for Best Mixtape. Last summer saw Meg team-up with Nicki Minaj and Ty Dolla Sign to create the anthem ‘Hot Girl Summer’ which went viral on social media. Many saw the track as a positive step forward in the female rap genre which has long been divided by feuds and competition between artists like Nicki Minaj and Cardi B. In the track, Nicki delivers a fire verse and the video features many established female artists such as Rico Nasty, Ari Lennox, Dreezy, Dani Leigh and Summer Walker, who all come together to party with Megan. Meg is already making moves in 2020 with her collaboration with Normani on the Birds of Prey soundtrack and being invited to perform a set for the prestigious NPR Tiny Desk Concert series. This definitely proves that this stallion is not ready to be put out to pasture.

Saweetie “Number one stunner, Icy Grl with the Cuban”: Hailing from California’s Bay Area, Saweetie (pronounced sweetie) found success with her freestyles and car raps but after finishing college she realised that rapping was her calling. She launched into the mainstream with her track ‘Icy Grl’; a rework of Khia’s ‘My Neck, My Back (Lick It)’. The track went viral on social media where the term ‘Icy Grl’ transformed from a mere song title to a powerful philosophy about how to be a boujie boss. This exposure allowed her to release her debut EP High Maintenancefollowed by a remix of ‘Icy Grl’ this time featuring a rapping Kehlani. Her clever and quick-witted flow has attracted the attention of influential producers who have been quick to collaborate with her; these include Hitmaka on the track ‘No L’s’ and London on da Track on the song ‘Up Now’. Saweetie released her second major label EP, Icy, on March 29, 2019. In September 2019, ‘My Type’, the EP’s first single, hit #1 on the Rhythm Radio charts andwas certified gold and since then has only become more successful with two remixes being released: one feat. Jhené Aiko and City Girls and another Latin remix feat. Becky G and Melii as well as multiple DJ remixes. The IcyEP also featured lit collaborations with Saweetie’s boyfriend Quavo of Migos on the tracks ‘Tip Toes’ and ‘Emotional’. Recently, Saweetie worked on the Birds of Prey soundtrack with the song ‘Sway With Me’ with GALXARA. Granted the song is pants but Saweetie’s verse is its saving grace and cements her as a powerful artist with an expert flow.

As a fairly new listener to Claire Cottrill, better know as Clairo, I was excited to catch the second of her London dates at Electric Ballroom. And whilst Clairo showed herself to be nothing less than an impressive musician and performer, I left feeling a little bit disappointed. Opening with ‘Alewife’, two things became clear – Clairo was going to deliver a beautiful show, but her microphone desperately needed to be louder. The show followed a well curated setlist, mixing tracks from her debut album, Immunity, with earlier singles such as ‘Hot Cheeto’ and ‘2 Hold U’ from her ‘bedroom pop’ days. Her band was exceptional, providing flawless backing to the gentle, but engaging performance she delivered. Even though most of the crowd were very involved in her performance, especially those directly in front of the stage, she fell victim to the chatter from the back of the room being audible over the quieter songs in her set – which, due to her particular style of music, were most of them. This was compounded by poor sound mixing, allowing her soft and lullaby-like vocals to be lost to a microphone that should have been much louder compared to her instruments. This may well have been intentional – Clairo’s exposing lyrics and beautiful voice create a listening experience that feels like you are the only one she is singing to. However, her more poppy and upbeat songs such as ‘North’ and ‘4 Ever’ didn’t suffer the same fate and were well received, being met with a chorus of backing vocals from the crowd. The dreamy and ‘aesthetic’ lighting and stage design, featuring blue and pink washes with images of clouds, water, and rain, not only accentuated the softness of her performance, but also provided beautiful backdrops for the audience to put on their Instagram stories. This constant filming and sharing by much of the crowd didn’t seem to bother Clairo, which contrasts with several other gigs I have been to where performers have made a

direct request to their audience to not watch the set through their phone screens. As a musician who doesn’t shy away from sharing intimate and deeply personal experiences through her music, it was no surprise that much of the crowd were captivated by her performance. Engaging with the crowd even in her more painful and personal songs such as ‘Feel Something’, she never lost the rapture of those who arrived early to watch from the front. She delivered her more soulful tracks with closed eyes and sweeping hand movements, and even sat down at the front of the stage to perform ‘Sinking’, which though honouring the emotions of the song, opened up more opportunities to be distracted by the chatter from the back half of the floor. Perhaps it’s the nature of Clairo’s music, but even a relatively smaller capacity venue such as Electric Ballroom felt a little too big for the tender show she performed. It seemed as though the combination of poor sound design, a moderately chatty audience, and the size of the venue resulted in a disjointedness between the beautiful and stripped down performance she was trying to deliver, and how I was actually experiencing it.

Image: Markus Spiske

Despite criticisms of the sound design, I was not let down by Clairo herself. The sweetness of her understated questions to the audience between tracks, and the earnest and striking delivery of each song showed impressive talent. A criticism that likely only I have is that sadly, though he was watching from the balcony, Danny L Harle did not make an onstage appearance to perform ‘B.O.M.D’. However my wishful thinking could not get in the way of what was a very strong performance by Clairo, and one that will definitely keep me looking towards her next tour dates.

BY KIT GULLIS Country is gay. No ifs and or buts, it is simply gay. You don’t even need to be gay to make country music gay, thousands of straight singers have contributed to the genre, but regardless, it’s a gay genre. So solidified is the figure of country in the queer canon it genuinely baffled me that people where so shocked when modern country cowboy, Lil Nas X, came out as gay in the summer of 2019. However, despite this deeply entrenched connection between queerness and country, in recent years it seems that country music has become more queer, or at least more visibly queer. From Lil Nas (real name Montero Lamar Hill) to Orville Peck, the ‘cowboy’ has seemingly become a character for gay artists to work through and subvert, extending the typically queer tropes of country music to a more visible place. The most challenging concept for people when it comes to queering country is the often insurmountable issue of LGBTQ+ rights in the American south, which the genre is most typically associated with. So challenging is this concept that it has led to many cultural products desperately trying to explore and analyse this connection, from Truman

Capote’s queer landscape of the American south in works such as Other Voices, Other Rooms to Ang Lee’s Oscar winning Brokeback Mountain. The issue of LGBTQ+ discrimination in the American south is a deeply problematic one (at the time of writing this South Dakota has passed a bill that would jail any doctors giving puberty blocking treatments to trans teens) so the question of why country or even the ‘cowboy’ has become so popular with gay culture is understandable. However, traditionally, country music has always opposed or contended with the typically conservative environments it has stemmed from. In the early 20th century country music often spoke to the economic and social strife of the South. Following the gothic footsteps of writers such as Faulkner or O’Connor, it dealt with the issues of social deformity with the central figures of songs either in pain over a loved one, saddened over the inability to connect to others, or coming to terms with their own grotesque actions. Thus, it is only understandable that in such conservative communities, queer narratives would make their way into the genre either overtly or covertly.

There is a truthfulness and honesty to country music that everyone is meant to be able to connect to, not just those belonging to the LGBTQ+ community. But I think that it is this confessional and raw quality to country that makes it relate so perfectly to the frequently hidden narrative of queer people. In other words, country music sings what cannot be spoken. When I think of the archetypal cowboy I think of a man, isolated by his profession and chained to a landscape in which he must perform a certain level of masculinity. However, the incredibly revealing nature of country challenges and subverts this, it seems to liberate the singer from this construct. If we look to Hank Williams’ ‘I’m So Lonely I Could Cry’ or Johnny Cash’s ‘Hurt’ we find an interesting balance between performed machoism and sensitive depictions of emotion. Orville Peck, whose first album Pony came out in early 2019, extends this notion in his music. Peck plays with both the hyper masculine and erotic qualities of the ‘cowboy’ as well as its visibly campy nature. By incorporating a fetishistic mask with the flashy nudie suits typical of traditional country singers, Peck perfectly blends the masculine with feminine and the campy with the erotic to highlight various layers of queerness. However, this image of the ‘cow-

boy’ in queer culture is by no means a new phenomenon. From the artworks of Tom of Finland and the characters of the Village People to Ned Sublette’s 1981 ‘Cowboys Are Frequently, Secretly Fond of Each Other’, country and western iconography have continually been appropriated as erotic symbols in the queer cultural canon. Moreover, beyond the aesthetic and visual qualities of Peck’s queer cowboy, his music very much speaks to the same idea. A lot of Peck’s songs harken back to more traditional country and western music, the kind of thing you would hear in an empty bar on the side of a highway after a long day’s work on the ranch. Peck combines the iconic country sounds of twangy guitars, chicken pickin and his own swooning vocals that sound like a mixture of Johnny Cash and Elvis Presley. Although Peck may not be overtly exploring his queer identity in his music, by being openly gay and writing with such sensuality the ambiguity of his songs lends so well to the country genre as a battle ground between social restraint and emotional confession. His music seems to embody and enact the tenuous relationship between Ennis and Jack in Brokeback Mountain, as previ-

ously mentioned. In ‘Dead of Night’, the opening song of his album, Peck sensitively portrays the passion and desire of a relationship. He sings, “You say “go fast”, I say “hold on tight” / In the dead of night / See the boys as they walk on by”. The lyrics seem to subtly engage in the tentativeness associated with hidden love and the chorus’ focus on looking highlights the relationship between desire and the gaze so often identified with queer relationships such as in the case of cruising. In the song ‘Kansas (Remember Me Now)’, which sounds like it’s playing from an old-timey radio, Peck retells the story of the Clutter Family Murder’s made famous by Truman Capote’s novel In Cold Blood. Peck sings from the perspective of either Perry Smith or Richard Hickcock who were convicted for the murders and furthers Capote’s depiction of the two men as possibly being lovers, “Come and lay down your shoulder / Just know you were always my star / Brother’s gone, do I regret it? / Not a thing, now that Dick’s by my side”. This connection between the grotesque and the romantic is one of the finest examples of how country blends both the confessional and the shameful into the same frame. Peck’s songs highlight the incredibly power-

ful way that both the musical and the aesthetic qualities of country can examine the conflicting realities between social mobility and internal desire in queer identities. As an openly queer country singer, Orville Peck is it not an anomaly. Instead his style and sound is part of a long list of queer musicians using the country genre as a place to express themselves and find solace, such as the likes of K. D. Lang and Drag Race star Trixie Mattel. For a genre that is so typically associated with conservatism and lack of diversity, it is wonderful to see that country’s recent upsurge has involved more LGBTQ+ people as well as people of colour such as Lil Nas X and Yola, something I hope only continues to grow as the genre does.

Photography: Louis Miller

Skepta must feel like he is at the top of the UK rap ladder right now. Having traversed Europe and the UK for the past few weeks, he finished off his tour on Friday 29th November with a sold-out gig at Olympia in Kensington – that’s a lot of people! What’s more, he didn’t take on that crowd of 10,000 alone… It’s been a big decade for Skepta, having released music nonstop and received a whole variety of awards, most notably the Mercury Prize for his 2016 album Konnichiwa. Skepta returned with a new album in 2019, Ignorance Is Bliss, which Skepta claimed was made for himself almost as an album of self-discovery. It charted at number two in the UK in May and since then he has featured on other artists’ work - as well as touring extensively. The doors opened at around 6:30, but by 5:30 there was already a sizeable crowd braving the cold Kensington air to get to the front of the colossal venue.Veteran DJ TimWestwood attempted to get the crowd going until 8pm to little avail, but it was the arrival of Skepta’s Boy Better Know colleague Shorty which really got the evening started. Despite being part of one of the UK’s most well-known grime collectives, Shorty is largely unknown, particularly regarding his solo material. But the crowd were in for a real treat as Shorty brought out rapper Goldie 1 as well as fellow Boy Better Know members, Jammer and Frisco.This really set the tone of the evening, and after intense moshing to ‘Too Many Man’, the crowd couldn’t stop moving. Next up to support Skepta was Pop Smoke, a hot new talent out of New York City, who has been following Skepta on the UK leg of his tour. His set was energetic and certainly got the crowd pumped up for Skepta. Yet it was clear everyone was there to see the Mercury-winner and when Pop Smoke’s set finished, the crowd waited with excited anxiety for the show, especially when Tim Westwood moved his decks offstage and the setlists were taped up. Not long after 9pm, the lights dropped as BBK’s DJ Maximum got behind the decks. The screens at the back lit up with a NASA style countdown before the Ignorance Is Bliss opener ‘Pure Water’ came on, and soon Skepta darted on stage to a lively crowd, jumping and moshing like it was his last day on earth. This was followed up with another song from the 2019 album YouWish, which maintained the crowd’s intensity. But, if the crowd were expecting a night of just Skepta and DJ Maximum: they were wrong - because a few songs later, London rapper Lancey Foux appeared out of nowhere to rap his verse on ‘Animal Instinct’. But Skepta had much more in store. After performing ‘Redrum’, arguably one of the best-

performed songs of the night, and more from Ignorance is Bliss, Skepta teased the crowd with the opening bars of ‘Bet’ - a song by fellow grime artist Octavian on which he features - and moments later Octavian ran on stage to a screaming crowd, performing a monumental version of the song before Octavian’s fellow Essie Gang member Michael Phantom rapped his verse. Lancey Foux, Octavian. By this stage, it had already been an exciting evening. But no-one in the crowd was prepared for what came next. I had a hunch that, being such an important show for Skepta, bringing out A$AP Rocky for their 2018 platinum single ‘Praise the Lord (Da Shine)’ wasn’t outside the remit of possibility. Even so, when the song’s flutey motif boomed through the soundsystem and Rocky appeared under a black umbrella, the rest of the crowd and I showed our appreciation for one of rap’s biggest names. This may have worn out the crowd somewhat, but when Skepta brought out his younger brother JME to perform ‘That’s Not Me’, the raucous spirit was revived and then again when grime star AJ Tracey came out to perform their single ‘Kiss and Tell’. The show culminated in two of the most popular tracks from Ignorance Is Bliss, with Cheb Rabi and B Live guesting for ‘Love Me Not’ and Nafe Smallz charging onto stage for ‘Greaze Mode’. But as Skepta gave a speech to the crowd, it was clear that this was his time. He left the stage to take photos with fans at the barrier, ‘Back to Basics’ playing in the background, crowd exhausted but gleeful. With more guests than a hotel, Skepta ended his busy year with a stunning performance at Olympia - and I certainly felt it was £40 well spent!

The unique sound of the London-based duo Prospa, aka Gosha Smith and Harvey Blumler, has been aptly described by independent music magazine Notion as “rave alchemy”. It is perhaps a coincidence, but only right, that they chose to name their freshly-launched imprint Rave Science, towards the end of last year: a perfect encapsulation of the stylistic interplay that has come to define their music. Their eclectic reinvigoration of the sounds that defined the rave scene of the mid-nineties can only be described in such ethereal terms, a seemingly magical process of sonic transformation and creation that has fuelled their stratospheric, although entirely well deserved, rise. I distinctly remember the first time I saw Gosha and Harvey play, in an underground bar in our hometown of Leeds and, even then, their ability to create a palpable atmosphere of complete euphoria in that sweaty basement, felt like the beginning of something fresh and exciting. This was way back in 2014, when the duo were more inclined towards the soft synth riffs and deep basslines of house music. So many good memories of my late teens are associated with one of their first tracks together, ‘Love The Way’, a deep house bop which can still be found lurking somewhere on YouTube, and is definitely worth a listen. It was in 2017, however, that their music career really began to gain traction, as they played sets for BBC Introducing at Creamfields and ADE, but, in October 2018, ‘Prayer’ was released as part of the relaunch of the nineties label Stress Records. An acid-inspired dance tune which exploded onto the scene, garnering widespread critical acclaim from the likes of

Monki and Annie Mac, who made it her ‘Hottest Record in the World’ soon after the release – a huge achievement by any standards, but an amazingly unreal moment for those who’ve known them since their school days. The song was such a hit that it is still introducing thousands to their music even now. Every time I return home to Leeds, my parents and I listen to their music together in the kitchen, a sentence I never thought I’d write, but, as a friend of the boys, I am so glad I can. I’ll never forget my dad asking Gosha if it was his vocals sampled on the track – an honest mistake for the newest fan of electronic music, but a hilarious one nonetheless. Their inimitable sound has undoubtedly come a long way since the progressive deep house set at Creamfields. I recently asked the duo how they would describe the evolution of their music, particularly since ‘Prayer’ dazzled the dance scene: “[It] is still in its early days… we started on a more house influenced sound, but we didn’t feel a hundred percent content with that music. It was kind of inspired by progressive house, but we liked to also have more unique sounds in there. As we have evolved into making breakbeat, more options open up rhythmically when you don’t follow the constraints of a 4/4 kick drum pattern.”

They cite a variety of inspirations, but mainly focus on “disco, electro, breakbeat and rave”, as Gosha assures me that they will only continue to explore these sounds more in their coming releases. Since the release of ‘Prayer’, it seems like Prospa are unstoppable. As they ventured further into the oh-so-familiar, yet somehow still uncharted, territory of the international rave scene, and the tracks ‘Intended’, ‘Get That’, and ‘Back to the Motherland’ (one of my personal favourites) followed in quick succession; characterised by heavy synths, acid bass, breakbeats, and soulful vocal samples that soon came to define their sound at the beginning of 2019. ‘Intended’ was included in DJ Mag’s ‘Top 50 Tracks of 2019’, with journalist Martin Guttridge-Hewitt citing their use of the iconic vocal hook, ‘believe it’s what God intended’, as “unarguably fresh… creating broken rave-y joy”. Describing their music as inducing “rave-y joy” really encapsulates Prospa’s reimagining of iconic nineties rave tunes – the boys themselves state that The Prodigy and Chemical Brothers are among their biggest inspirations, falling into the category of what they describe as “classic dance music”. In August, they released ‘Guitar Anthem’, a couple of months before the hardcore-influenced trance stabs and breakbeats of their three-track EP, Control The Party, was launched on their Rave Science imprint: the titular track of which was later included in the top 50 of Mixmag’s ‘100 best tracks of the year’, alongside ‘Prayer’. This was celebrated by an intimate warehouse party in North London, which was perhaps one of the most surreal nights of my life. It felt so far removed from their humble begin-

nings in the small clubs of Leeds, but the electricity of the energy and euphoria created by Gosha and Harvey in that room made it feel like nothing had changed. An extensive tour through the festival scene in the summer further cemented their position as the rising stars of the electronic music scene, taking their vibrant energy to the likes of Glastonbury, Lovebox and Gottwood. They are now playing venues across the world, ending 2019 with a clear run of appearances at Mayfield Depot in Manchester, for Warehouse Project, as well as bagging an early morning slot at the legendary Griessmuhle in Berlin – less than a month before the devastating closure of their Neukölln location (#saveourspaces!). They have entered the new decade with no signs of slowing down. They have most recently embarked on a US ‘mini tour’, playing in LA, New York, San Francisco, and San Diego, as well as a set at Holy Ship! Wrecked in Punta Cana, in the Dominican Republic. Having just finished this whirlwind of an American debut, I asked Gosha how they felt about playing to what I can only imagine is an entirely different crowd to the ones that they’re used to in the UK: “We have only really touched the tip of the iceberg when it comes to this... From first impressions, we think US crowds are very open. They are actually not as far removed from UK crowds as we may think. We just played the warehouse party Lights Down Low in Los Angeles, and people kept saying to us, ‘This is the real LA!’ Or ‘I bet you didn’t think LA had this’. So, I think a lot of it is about perception. One thing we’ve learnt is that there is always going to be a scene for dance music in the underground. These places are full of people that care about good music and having a great time, it’s just about finding out where these spots are!”

The duo have just released a new track,‘The One’, which they describe as “an ode to those final moments of the rave”. I have to say, this is definitely one of the best tracks from Prospa, a certified floor-filler characterised by their now-signature fusion of breakbeats, synths, and vocals. It may sound cliché, but the future is looking bright for Prospa. Their ability to evolve within their music, whilst keeping themselves firmly grounded by both their Leeds origins and the sounds of nineties dance, characterises their unique brand of “alchemy”. I may be biased, but watch this space: the new age of electronic music is happening via Gosha and Harvey’s East London flat.

‘Other things’;

Mac Miller’s Circles and Posthumous Albums

BY CHARLOTTE STANBRIDGE At the time of Mac Miller’s untimely death, he was already deep into the recording of Circles; the now posthumously released album that acts as the follow-up to 2018’s Swimming. The two albums were intended to create a loosely drawn concept - Swimming in Circles - that reflects the deeply introspective nature of Miller’s lyrical content. The most mature and fully realised of Miller’s work, Swimming is a tour de force of a young artist at the height of their powers. We feel him trying to move forward on ‘Perfecto’, beginning to accept the discordant nature of life, but being held back and restrained by ingrained habit on ‘Jet Fuel’, and facing the dissociative effects of alienation on ‘Conversation Part 1’. ‘Self-Care’ is a hip-hop masterpiece, with a switch-up

half way through the track that brings the second half to reflect upon the first; offering hope for the future as an antidote to present confusion. Chaos lurks underneath the surface of the album, whose sonic diversity showed Miller moving towards funk, soul and even orchestral sounds to act as the foundation for his introspective musings. The lyrics are self-aware without being self-conscious, giving the album a free and spacious quality whose trajectory is upward moving and hopeful. Thus when the news of Miller’s death broke in September 2018, only a month after the release of this album which seemed to scream recovery and forward movement, it shook many of his fans who had taken Swimming as a sign of good things to come.

Circles producer Jon Brion said that Miller presented him with the material that would make up the posthumous album as ‘some other things I’m not sure what to do with’, alongside the tracks that would become Swimming. The Zane Lowe interview makes clear that Brion tried as much as possible to fulfil Miller’s sonic vision for the album, drawing from conversations with the rapper and demos left behind following his death. The result is an album stylistically divergent from Swimming, experimenting with indie rock, folk and pop influences, as well as Disclosure’s distinctive production on ‘Blue World’. There is little on the album that could be considered ‘hip-hop’ at all, and only a couple of the tracks feature Miller rapping rather than singing. Circles sees him move into this new sonic territory with ease, his meandering vocals finding a home on any beat, and coming into their own on stand-out tracks ‘I Can See’, ‘Woods’ and ‘Hands’; arguably the most accomplished of the set. It’s difficult not to superimpose melancholy onto the album in light of the knowledge of MIller’s death, and find a haunting, disquieting quality to his croonings that speak now from beyond the grave. But the introspection on Circles is darker, more disturbed and perturbed than Swimming, despite the morbid retrospective shadow of his passing. The lyrics seem to sit in a more resigned position and speak to the pressures of trying to keep up the forward movement and self-acceptance laid out in the former album. “This is what it looks like right before you fall”, drawls Miller on the opening track; ‘Heaven’s too far when you live in the basement’ he muses on ‘I Can See’; “I wish that I

could just get out my goddamn way” he spits on ‘Good News’. If Swimming is about recovery and resurrection - finding the window opening onto a blue sky in the lid of your own coffin, as on the album’s cover, or rising from the dirt of your own burial as Miller does in the ‘Self-Care’ video - then Circles is about the flawed reality of life on the other side, and the self-sabotaging pull back into the deep. This is one of the many mouse-traps of the posthumous album; what Jon Brion calls the ‘loss goggles’; every lyric reads as a prophetic message of Miller’s impending death, and the tone of each vocal seems to act as a sign of his pain. It’s the same effect that makes Amy Winehouse’s ‘Rehab’ so difficult to listen to now; what seemed to be playful irony upon the song’s release transitions into a painfully crude cry for help when the reality of her death is known: “My daddy thinks I’m fine....” Another difficulty is the challenge of mangling together the artist’s ‘final word’ from the fragments and first drafts of music left behind. The posthumous album necessarily lacks the deceased artist’s creative vision - unless their death follows the completion of the material, as with Tupac’s The Don Kilimuniati, Joy Division’s Closer or Nirvana’s haunting MTV Unplugged in New York session as well as their full development and revision of the material. Of course producers always play a huge role in the creation of an album, but the posthumous album gives the producer, rather than the artist, the final say; making the finished product the result of a torch passed on rather than a mutual exchange of ideas. And so unanswerable questions naturally arise; what would Circles have sounded like if Miller had survived? Would these

‘other things’ have even made it onto the final album, or were they just experiments that wouldn’t have made the final cut? What would the album after Circles have sounded like? All this and more is wrapped up in the bittersweet pill of the posthumous album; a gesture of everlasting posterity through music that provides a valuable insight into the life of the artist at the time of their death, yet whose partiality inevitably cuts as deep as it heals. Posthumous albums are difficult to get right no matter what the circumstances, and producers and families have approached the problem in different ways. In the case of Jeff Buckley, the incompleteness of his posthumous release was made clear by the affixing of Sketches For onto Buckley’s working title (My Drunken Sweetheart); affirming the unfinished nature of the album. Yet Buckley was famously unhappy with the first recordings of what became his final work, and who knows how it would have sounded, or whether it would have even been released, if he had lived. The same questions arise in Amy Winehouse’s case; an artist notoriously self-critical of her own work and meticulous in the revision of it before it was released. Therefore to put forward any collection of her work posthumously feels almost like a violation, and I’ve always struggled to listen to Lioness, particularly after discovering the extent of her family’s manipulation and exploitation of her talent. The Asif Kapidia documentary ‘Amy’ revealed

that Winehouse had been working on new styles, including more hip-hop influenced work, in a prolific streak of creativity shortly before her death which was inspiring her more than any of her work so far. Yet none of this finds its way onto Lioness, which is largely a collection of covers and special recordings of some of her more famous tracks. It’s always a pleasure to hear Winehouses’ timeless and peerless vocals, but to do so in the absence of her specific creative control is a somewhat hollow experience. Despite the many pitfalls and potential minefields of the posthumous album, Brion and Miller’s family have produced a moving tribute to his life and music that does bring with it some sense of closure to his work. Brion worked closely with Miller, and oversaw the creation of many of these tracks in the moment, giving him the personal insight and wherewithal to complete the rapper’s vision in his absence. Fans and critics alike have revered it and those who had followed his life and work can find some comfort in it. Perhaps this is the true purpose of the posthumous album; not a cash-cow or a hollow attempt at the resurrection of the deceased, but a humble tribute to a flame now extinguished.

Let England Shake, PJ Harvey

‘Rolling in the Deep’, Adele

‘Baby’, Justin Bieber

2010

2011

channel ORANGE, Frank Ocean

Take Care, Drake 2012

Brothers, The Black Keys

Money Store, Death Grips Born To Die, Lana Del Rey

Animal, Ke$ha Body Talk, Robyn

Illustration previous page: Srishti Chakraborty

Pussy Riot’s anti-Putin action in Christ the Saviour Cathedral, Moscow

‘On the Floor’, Pitbull feat. J-Lo

Jason Derulo, Jason Derulo

good kid M.A.A.d. city, Kendrick Lamar

Born ThisWay, Lady Gaga

‘Call Me Maybe’, Carly Rae Jepsen

RED, Taylor Swift

PSY’s ‘Gangnam Style’ breaks YouTube view record

‘Let It Go’, Frozen My Everything, Ariana Grande

AM, Arctic Monkeys

‘Get Lucky’, Daft Punk feat. Pharrel Williams

Zayn Malik leaves One Direction. ‘Pompeii’, Bastille

2014

2013

The 1975, The 1975

Art Angels, Grimes

2015

Lost in the Dream, War on Drugs

Pure Heroine, Lorde

‘Cheerleader’, Omi

‘212’, Azealia Banks

Matangi, M.I.A.

Pinkprint, Nicki Minaj

Currents, Tame Impala

Invasion of Privacy, Cardi B

Father of the Bride, Vampire Weekend

‘Mystery of Love’, Sufjan Stevens

‘This is America’, Childish Gambino

‘Despacito’, Luis Fonsi feat. Daddy Yankee

Lemonade, Beyoncé

‘Old Town Road’ Lil Nas X

Gang Signs & Prayers, Stormzy 2016

Ghosteen, Nick Cave

2017

2019 2018

Life of Pablo, Kanye West

Ctrl, SZA

Dirty Computer, Janelle Monáe

‘New Rules’, Dua Lipa

WhenWe All Fall Asleep, Where DoWe Go? Billie Eilish

El Mal Querer, Rosalía

Cuz I LoveYou, Lizzo

A Seat at the Table, Solange ‘Work’, Rihanna

BTS performs at Billboard Music Awards

TEXT

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF ANNA HOFMAN CO-EDITORS KIT GULLIS ALEX REDNAXELA SOPHIE DULEY DESIGN

ANNA HOFMAN KIT GULLIS ALEX REDNAXELA

Angus Colwell Fatima Jafar Diletta Lobuono Austin Scheerer Nikou Jahanshahi Alemi Alex Rednaxela Anaa Haider Wilfred Skinner Joe Hawley Anna Hofman Charlie J. Emily Murphy Kit Gullis Louis Miller Sophie Duley Charlotte Stanbridge ILLUSTRATIONS/ PHOTOGRAPHY Markus Spiske Louis Miller Srishti Chakraborty & Prospa, Wild UK, Sonic PR, Dawbell Communications, Source