Del The Funky Homosapien – Eleventh Hour

Coming out of Oakland, Del and his Hieroglyphics posse altered the art of rhyme in the early 90’s, earning respectability from a hip-hop culture so closely associated with the east coast. Though not at first. Del’s humorous and bouncy rhyming meter resembled nothing of his cousin Ice Cube’s gangsterism, instead suggesting a nineteen-year old with a skewed take on day-to-day living. Fast-forward to the modern day, and Del is an indie-rap superstar, earning much of his reputation with the left-field conceptual album Deltron 3030 and as a rapping cartoon character courtesy of the Damon Albarn’s Gorillaz. With his latest record, Eleventh Hour, Del pulls his head out on the clouds, and offers a release more in-tuned to his early records: heavy on the bottom-thick funk and over-fascinated with braggadocio. It’s still a thrill to hear his rubbery cadence paint absurd vision of being Del, and while not as intriguing as previous albums, a B grade from Del still sets the curve everyone strives to attain.

Funky Nassau – The Compass Point Story: 1980-1986

Within the mix of rock and roll lore and history, the impact of the recording studio should reside within its own chapter. As cherished as the Beatles’ Abbey Road recording facility or as identifiable as Funk Brother James Jamersons’ bass lines recorded in Motown’s Studio A, the room, itself, has an often under-acknowledged hand in defining the recordings we hear. In the late 70’s, Chris Blackwell, founder of Island Music, decided to create his own idyllic recording institution, Compass Point, on a Bahaman island. On Funky Nassau, laid out over thirteen tracks, is a glimpse at a stunning, fun-filled discography that sythesized meticulous engineering and artistic spontaneity. With an available house band that included reggae legends Sly & Robbie, the studio popped-out worldly amalgamation of funk, disco, reggae and no/new wave for dancefloor diva Grace Jones, crafted Tom Tom Club’s “Genius Of Love” as well as provide the influence for two significant Talking Heads albums and Ian Dury’s notorious “Spasticus Autisticus”. A great compilation and fascinating bit of history.

She & Him – Volume One

After helping hoist up Jenny Lewis’s solo album, a sunny AM sounding escape from the indie pop of her band Rilo Kiley, it seems M. Ward has wanted a second run. This time he (the Him) teams up with actress Zooey Deschanel (the She), and surprising any initial suspicions, what pours out of your speaker is a goldenly sentimental and sweetly reminiscent of 60’s and 70’s pop. With songs built around wistful remembrances (“I Thought I Saw Your Face Today”), crying heartbreak (“Sentimental Heart”) and the occasional cover (“You’ve Really Got A Hold On Me, “I Should Have Known Better”), she inflates them with bubblegum playfulness (“Why Do You Let Me Stay Here”) or dusts them with a bit of country twang (“Change Is Hard”). Just from the song titles, you’ll notice a blues ache, and if Zooey had the pipes, this could have been the second coming of Dusty Springfield. Instead, she belts out croons that charm and sound quite assured. And with the M. Ward’s ear for antiquated American songs, it’s a quite impressive and endearing little record.

Human Bell – Human Bell

Rarely does Human Bell exert its instrumental muscle immediately. Constructed with snaking guitar duos, a bowed banjo, drums, an amplified kalimba and other singing equipment, Dave Heumann and Nathan Bell build an album would sit well on a desert drive, lulling you with tender dreamlike melodies, only to erupt into powerful visions then fade away. Coming out on the Thrill Jockey label, the home to other post-jazz, instrumental rock outfits like Tortoise and the Chicago Underground Duo, the basis for enjoyment is whether you willing to let your mind wander, and appreciate the free-form spontaneity that somehow synthesizes when you pull back from the canvas. Etched with blues chords and Middle Eastern melodies, you could get lost within the steady plodding, where most track refuse to let up until after six-plus minutes.

Erykah Badu – New Amerykah Part One (4th World War)

Within the constellation of independent, sassy female singers (think Billie Holiday, Chaka Khan), Ms. Badu has a way of combining universally righteous lyrics with her Southern everyday-people roots (Remember: she likes her tofu fried). Her new album, New Amerykah, is an examination of societal ills and day-to-day existence drapped with a rich musical backdrop. Like Curtis Mayfield, Badu vividly explores the squalor of inner city blues (“The Cell”), confident inner-vision (“Master Teacher” and “Me”), and the afterlife (“Telephone”, recorded after hip-hop producer J.Dilla’s funeral); she’s never preachy, and always supplies you with a thick groove to ride upon. Opening the album with a faux-Parliament/George Clinton style sermonizing, it’s the little snippets and interludes of the album that seem forced and dated. But the tracks themselves shine amazingly well, featuring the post-modern experimental left-field soul-inspired production of Madlib, the Roots’ Questlove, Sa-Ra, Soulquarium, 9th Wonder, and more. In election year, this is a fiercely strong woman, calling it as she sees it.