But in the course of this we hear Mr. Lover go from a guy obsessed with Kraftwerk, Prince and Rick James playing around with relatively primitive technology of a Roland TR-808 rhythm generator (still his favorite tool to this day) to someone able to headline a triumphant showcase for a burgeoning, if ill-defined scene, a show at Santa Ana stadium that also featured the World Class Wreckin Cru and L.A. Dream Team. Not incidentally, the Wreckin Cru included pre-N.W.A Dr. Dre and DJ Yella.
Throughout three themes remain constant, his randy, suave ladies man persona (we should note that on his album covers he’s billed as The Egyptian Lover), the oft-winking use of Egyptian iconography in images, titles and lyrics and some prime existential DJ boasting. For the latter, paired on this collection “What Is a DJ If He Can’t Scratch?” and “And My Beat Goes Boom” are minimalist anthems, “Boom” being little more than a spare beat and vocals, perhaps consciously imitating/spoofing Melle Mel’s “White Lines.”
The music gained in some range and sophistication — “I Cry (Night After Night)” even features a snaky, Isleys-like guitar. But he never let go of the stripped-down aesthetic. By the end of the decade he was obscured by the rising gangsta-rap wave in L.A., even though he’d been a key influence and inspiration to many of its key figures. Listening to the collected works here, though, the idiosyncratic vision remains compelling, the relative naivety of it delightful, the beats and persona equally charming.
Terrace Martin, “Velvet Portraits” (Sounds Of Crenshaw/Ropeadope)
Okay, well the title might carry a bit of an ironic wink, given how much of the music on L.A.-based sax player Martin’s second album evokes the smooth jazz and soul of the ‘70s — the velvet portrait sweet spot. Following a jazzy invocation of the short title track, the album kicks in with “Valdez Off Crenshaw,” which could almost have been on an old Grover Washington album.
But this is music made with such love and care that it’s hard to doubt the sincerity behind it. Even more so as while it’s the predominant style, it’s far from the only one, threading through a landscape that also includes Curtis Mayfield-like wah-wah funk (“Push,” featuring Tone Trezure), impassioned ‘60s-style soul balladry (“Patiently Waiting,” sung by Uncle Chucc and the classic vocal group the Emotions), slinky R&B-jazz (“Think of You” sung by Rose Gold) to a squonky P-Funk homage (“With You”) to a seven-minute jazz-funk workout (“Curly Martin,” named for his drummer, who happens to be Martin’s dad).
Martin proudly calls all this “the Sound of Crenshaw,” which is also his label’s name. That sound, he says, is found in everything he’s done, which includes work with Kendrick Lamar (you might have seen him wailing away on the stunning Grammy show performance) and Herbie Hancock (he’s producing some tracks for the jazz-funk man right now).
Like fellow saxophonist Kamasi Washington (who guests on this album), he’s been part of the L.A. musical collective anchored by bassist-entrepreneur Thundercat (who also guests). Others sitting in and supplementing Martin’s regular quartet include groundbreaking pianist Robert Glasper and singer Lalah Hathaway (on the forceful “Oakland”)
And it all comes to a close on a harder-to-classify note, starting with the odd disjointed electronically manipulated impressionism of “Reverse,” flowing into the closing, 12-minute floating dream-distortion instrumental “Mortal Man,” which continues a journey followed on the same-named closer of Lamar’s “To Pimp a Butterfly.”
It’s not the tour de force statement of “Butterfly” or Washington’s epic “Epic” from last year, but it’s an impressive, uh, portrait from and of an emerging artist of talent and vision.
Rogue Wave, “Delusions of Grand Fur” (Easy Sound)
Maybe it’s too early for a cool summer song, but “California Bride,” from Oakland band Rogue Wave’s new fifth album, is a strong pick for spring. It’s about looking for new hopes, new vistas, pulling yourself out of darkness, not giving up. And it just sounds like spring. Even if we’re not totally sure what Zach Rogue means by “you lucked out like a California Bride.”
Well, that’s not something new from Rogue (not his real name, as you may have guessed), either the sound of hope or the somewhat obscure references.
On the one hand. On the other, at least hope-wise, there’s “What is Left to Solve,” its Kraftwerk-echoing electronic pulse carrying Rogue’s musings about the existential void of life in a time when all the answers can be found on our phones — except for to the questions that really matter: “If everything’s my fault,” he sings, “what is left to solve?” A nagging, rhetorical querry for, or from, that bride.
Those two songs more or less frame “Delusions of Grand Fur” (do we love the title or what?) both in terms of the emotional and musical tones. With singer-guitarist Rogue along with co-founder drummer and keyboardist Patrick Spurgeon anchoring the band, as they have since the start in 2002, this album sees a turn to more intimate approaches vs. the bigger, more polished sounds on earlier albums for major indie labels Sub Pop and Vagrant. This not only debuts their own label, but saw them recording largely at home in Oakland, where they found a nice mix of, well, homeyness and an ability to explore and experiment at will.
