Xtra

The endings of artistic collaborations are often bittersweet; a feeling of release mingles with regret for what might have been. At the end of The Subnovas’ debut release performance, lead singer Michael Taylor smiled as he thanked the band’s supporters and announced that this would be the group’s last show. He did not seem disappointed or bitter about disbanding; he appeared genuinely grateful for the opportunity to share his music with one final live crowd. The Subnovas’ first and last album, Between the Light Years, subtly pulls listeners into a comfortably alienated space through juicy, extended melodic phrases and shifting rock meters. The album unfolds like a narrative. The first track, “Turning and Turning”, offers listeners a sense of the setting and a foreshadowing of melodies that are fleshed out at the end. The second track, “Telescreen”, establishes a protagonist who is fed up with incessant propaganda and emphatically rejects it. The music mirrors a boiling point as the drums shift to quick cymbal hits, the guitar breaks free from its restrained timbre, and Taylor screams, “Enough enough enough enough!” The fourth track, “Echo On”, feels like a dramatic and hopeful turning point; it begins with a sample that asserts, “I believe that man will not merely endure; he will prevail.” The track has a heavy, grounded bass line that winds menacingly through the song and culminates in a thrilling counterpoint to the guitar. The title track ungrounds the listener as the song wanders through different keys and textures and as Taylor sings, “Drifting disparately further into the void.” The song seems caught in a lonely alien space between two distant feelings. “Remain” feels like an extension of the same cold barren landscape, and it ends with a gripping guitar solo. Finally, the melodic theme from the first track returns in a spectacular conclusion in “The Turn”. Although Taylor repeatedly sings, “Where do we go now?” the music feels confident and hopeful, certain of its own path even if the protagonist is not. In the final track, the musical drama fades away like fragments of an obscure dream, and the listener is left to contemplate the pieces. The music is over; The Subnovas entrust it to listeners so that it may be reborn upon each replay.    

On the second track of the live and all-improvised album Everything’s OK, Baltimore hip-hop artist Kokayi sings, “I’ve got pre-dug holes and a map of them,” letting listeners know that the free jazz ensemble Whose Hat is This? is about to bury any expectations about jazz and hip-hop. The ensemble boasts a powerhouse of lesser known touring legends: saxophonist and flutist Kebbi Williams (Outkast), bassist Tim Lefebvre (David Bowie), and drummers Tyler “Falcon” Greenwell (Col. Bruce Hampton) and JJ Johnson (John Mayer). The magnitude of this ensemble’s sound is hard to fathom considering the relatively small number of instrumental players. The two drummers work together seamlessly to ground the nearly out-of-control aesthetic that unfolds between the competing but complementary melodic figures. The music is sinister, frequently atonal, and brutally dissonant at times. Kokayi growls, “I see you, baby. I know your tricks. You got me twisted on the side of the ditch” over a bleating saxophone and primal rhythm section that feels closer to hardcore than jazz. The group synthesizes a wide range of disparate styles on Everything’s OK and transitions with hive mind-like effortlessness from track to track. For example, the ensemble easily morphs the character of their sound from the drum and bass speed of “Release the Cracklins” to the more relaxed reggae-styled “Tub-A-Love” without losing the continuity of their aesthetic. Throughout the album, Kokayi owns his role as guest front man and delivers his free prose with a quick, clear articulation and an imposing presence (e.g., “Jon Homes”). For the more traditional hip-hop, jazz fusion enthusiast, the group pays tribute to A Tribe Called Quest in their re-imagination of “Buggin’ Out” through “Kebbi Played a Note”. The homage functions as a brief hiatus from the intensity of the group’s untamed sound. Everything’s OK represents a pinnacle of untethered jazz that exceeds all expectations. Curious and open listeners will happily be buried with the old relics of their expectations underneath the dirty sounds of the future. 

Dance music needs to make people move; it does not have to be complex or cerebral to be physically engaging. While Harrison’s new album, Apricity, is not overly simple by any means, it connects to listeners’ feelings of fun and excitement. Harrison crafts groovy synth progressions with funky bass lines and punchy downbeats. In his music, he combines the coolness of his electronic timbres on synthesizer with the warmth of major harmonic progressions and upbeat rhythms. Harrison also peppers his album with an array of guest vocalists who lend a warm, human element to his cool, club-style soundscapes. The sound of the music fits the album’s title well; the word “apricity” means the warmth of the sun in winter. Harrison does not overestimate the effect of his music with this title; his tracks put the listener in a more receptive, lighter mood. Even the slow retro-sounding ballad “Better” expresses joy about a relationship and hope for the future. Apricity is an album that seduces listeners into abandoning their cares so that they can let go on the dance floor. In the second track, “Atmosphere”, Daniela Andrade sings, “It’s not always rational; give into your sense of ease.” This hypnotic message permeates subtly but deeply as listeners surrender to the reassuring repetition and mingling of sounds, allowing themselves to move and be moved.    

Richard David James (RDJ) aka Aphex Twin refuses to be boxed in by listener expectations. RDJ was a pioneer of electronic music throughout the 90s, revolutionizing electronic dance music styles such as ambient techno and drum and bass. RDJ’s musical output slowed significantly from the height of his commercial success in 2001 to 2014 when he released the Grammy award winning album Syro. RDJ lost none of his creative edge in taking this hiatus; instead, his music is more thoughtful and focused than ever before. RDJ’s music is much like the legend himself: magnetic and elusive at once. His style of sound is often affectionately referred to as drill and bass, a distinction which seems to imply something unique about the quality of electronic timbres RDJ engineers. His newest EP, Collapse, is full of irresistibly tweaked electronic sputters and quick, heavy bass. Much of the music feels as if something coldly calculated was broken by panic and anxiety. The first track, “T69 Collapse”, even includes a literal collapse of rhythmic phrasing and structuring that leaves the listener feeling fearful and sick. Collapse feels like world building on a microscopic level. Each track has multiple rhythmic and melodic motifs, characters that struggle together for survival. These characters achieve tense sort of harmony on the track “abundance10edit[2 R8’s, FZ20m & A 909]” which is also the most danceable track on the EP. The album ends as furiously and chaotically as it begins; the last track “Pthex” feels like some harsh alien landscape. Even so, RDJ’s musical landscapes are never simply backdrops, they are subjects in themselves that cannot be ignored.

It seems implied in the name that indie-rock artists have to be different. Often this independence from the mainstream feels put on, and the artist seems like a phony. Mitiski is not a phony; she is genuinely peculiar, and she embraces this identity on her newest album, Be the Cowboy. On the surface, the album feels squarely within indie-rock, but a close listen reveals that Mitski’s familiar-sounding song structures are punctuated with unusual harmonic progressions and stylistic changes. Mitski sings beautiful, flowing melodies, but she takes the listener by surprise by often beginning phrases in syncopation and winding on unexpectedly. The music suits the lyrical content of each track perfectly, even when the content is uncomfortable. While a few tracks come off sounding like adolescent melodrama, Mitski somehow performs this superficial angst/passion (”Geyser” and “Pink in the Night”) with the same palpable conviction as she does the sardonicism in the dull “Me and My Husband” and the existential drama in “Lonesome Love” and “Nobody”. The production is crisp and full of pop sensibilities but never eclipses Mitski’s voice as the ultimate focus of the music. Be the Cowboy proves that Mitski is fearless and uncompromising in her artistry. Throughout the album, she plays with themes of identity, independence, and the struggle to find happiness. While Be the Cowboy has many standout tracks, the last four songs embody Mitski’s incredible stylistic precision and range. “A Horse Named Cold Air” is bare and haunting, reminiscent of a 20th century classical art song; its muted colors and ethereal texture provide a nice stylistic break in the album. In “Washing Machine Heart”, Mitski creates a new euphemism with her lyrics “toss your dirty shoes in my washing machine heart”; the phase sounds sexually explicit when paired with its upbeat synth-rock backing, although it likely referrers to a compulsive need to mingle with and improve others within a relationship. “Blue Light” gives the audience one final short rock and roll flare before fading down and diffusing into her repeated question, “Are you that blue light?” The final song, “Two Slow Dancers”, is a gorgeous ballad that drips with longing and sad nostalgia, as if something long forgotten was suddenly missed. It is difficult to pin down such fiercely independent music, and perhaps that is its greatest draw. Mitski causes listeners to lean in and wonder at her mysterious music, her inscrutable identity, and perhaps even their own identities.

A successful new throwback album has to do more than just sound classic; it has to feel classic. The Internet’s newest album, Hive Mind, is all about classic style and feeling. Hive Mind is a fresh take on early 2000s funky R&B that feels relaxed, groovy, and sexy. Sydney Loren Bennett aka Syd lead sings with a tight ensemble that includes Matt Martians on keyboard, drums, and vocals; Patrick Paige II on the bass; Steve Lacy on guitar; and Christopher Smith on additional percussion. The band supports Syd’s smooth and catchy vocal lines cleanly but with quirky flavor through up-tempo gems like “Roll (Burbank Funk)” and “La Di Da” as well as the slower, more sensual tracks like “Come Over” and “Wanna Be”. Syd’s lyrics paint her as a reluctant player. Over the album, she sings, “I think she wanna be my girl… If you just let me come over babe… I can turn you on with my dirty mind… as long as you’re with it, I’ll be committed to you.” Each track unwinds listeners and pulls them into a carefree, fun, and flirty mood. Everything about this album feels like an authentic throwback to the early 2000s except the openly gay lyrical content, which demonstrates the broadening of social attitudes and musical genres since that time. The music is fun and inviting, and it is inclusive of communities who have traditionally been underrepresented in multiple musical genres, including R&B. Hive Mind creates a welcoming soundscape for listeners from all backgrounds to relax and lose themselves in the groove.

Over the course of their eight years together, drummer Zach Hill, rapper Stefan Burnett (MC Ride), and producer Andy Morin have created a bizarre and jarring hybrid of musical styles perhaps best described as hardcore electronic hip-hop; they are Death Grips. Dramatic and abrupt changes in the music are punctuated by quick, distorted raps (periodically screamed) over spastic, often impossibly fast drumming (e.g., “The Horn Section”). This new album, Year of the Snitch, also features DJ Swamp, whose aggressive style of turntabling helps bind together the group’s disparate elements of style. Because hip-hop beats are typically accented on two and four and hardcore is usually accented on one and three, these styles are especially difficult to fuse together; a dancer is left feeling utterly confused. Death Grips makes music that is extremely disorienting, not just because of its disparate musical styles, but because Death Grips deliberately distorts elements of music that normally serve to ground listeners such as steady beats, sustained harmonic keys, and clear lyrics. This disorienting nature of the music combined with the overall harshness of its sound make Year of the Snitch a challenging and even nauseating listen. It is dizzying to try to orient oneself in this alien and hostile musical landscape. It is better for the listener to try to enjoy the tumbling through space rather than to try to resist such an oppressive force. Death Grips proudly makes oppressive and technically virtuosic music. The music seizes the listener with incredible displays of speed and intricate mood shifts. Year of the Snitch is full of short, clever hooks that keep the listener coming back for more punishment (although it is certainly not for everyone). A new listener may want to try out the single “Streaky”, which is much more fun and danceable than hardcore. Overall, Year of the Snitch embodies a successful fusion of musical styles that probably should not go together. Listeners who can stomach it will quickly become addicted.                        

Dance music is most fun when the beat is a main feature (usually predictable) and the lyrics and style of the music do not get in the way. It is a great bonus when style and lyrics actually enhance dance music. Sink by Sudan Archives is dance music with intriguing lyrics and a singular inimitable style perhaps described as West African synth-R&B. Brittney Parks (aka Sudan Archives) grew up in Cincinnati, Ohio, but her use of cyclical melodies, polyrhythms, and call-and-response style vocals definitely exude West African flavor. Parks is a self-taught violinist, and she has described the Northeast African style of violin as one of her major influences. On Sink, Parks fuses African styles with more popular sounds. Sink has a well-balanced texture as Parks’s warm and natural vocals and violin match the cool but sensual timbres of the synthesizer and electronic bass drum. The song “Nont for Sale” stands out as perhaps the strongest dance track, and the lyrics show off Parks’s confident attitude which the listener can feel vicariously. She sings, “This is my light, don’t block the sun; this is my seat, can’t you tell? This is my time don’t waste it up; this is my land not for sale.” Sink is a fun, dancey EP for an audience that is looking for an exciting change of pace from their usual rotation of electronic and R&B records. 

Stale psych-rock is easy: insert repetitive blues melody; loud, fuzzy electric guitars (perhaps a phaser?); and highly distorted vocals (who cares about the words?). This type of flat music does not provoke deep thoughts or feelings and cannot provide the listener with a psychodynamic experience. Although our culture is inundated with such lifeless music, there are artists that break though the tedium of commercialism to deliver lush psychodynamic rock. Ruban Nielson of Unknown Mortal Orchestra proves that psych-rock is not a dead genre through a mesmerizing exhibition of style and imaginative song-structuring on his newest album, Sex & Food. The album is a wonderful synthesis of psych-rock, funk, disco, and blues. Nielson manipulates and fuses these styles to make music that transcends genre. While many of the album’s timbral elements are rooted in psych-rock (fuzzy guitars and distorted vocals), Nielson surprises the listener by stretching the expressive limits of these sounds through his unusual song-structuring. His lengthy melodic phrases lure the listener through punchy meter changes and distorted lyrics. While the words are challenging to discern at times, Nielson prioritizes the feeling of the music and trusts his audience to understand his meaning through repeated exposure and exploration. As listeners engage with the music over time, they hear more lyrics distinctly and they discover more about the sound and their connection to the sound (i.e., they identify deeper and more distinct feelings). Much of the Sex & Food’s psychodynamic pull comes from its mysterious energy; it dares its audience to celebrate somber thoughts and feelings through catchy and danceable melodies. The song “Hunnybee” is a perfect example of the album’s dark magnetism as it casually frames the bittersweetness of love. Nielson sings a gorgeous and light melody over a disco-esque bassline and violin, “Hunnybee, Hunnybee, there’s no such thing as sweeter a sting.” There is nothing superficial or easy about Sex & Food. It is deeply and carefully layered to invite listeners to lose themselves within the music so that they may grapple with and explore what it is to be human.

Music has enormous power to uplift listeners and give them a brighter, more hopeful vision of the world and its future. New Material by Preoccupations is not that music. The album begins with a reverb-soaked electronic drum beat that reminds the listener of the sound of frantic, running feet and panic. The disaffected and antiestablishment feel of the music combined with the apocalyptic hopelessness of the lyrics leave listeners stranded together in ostracism. A brief tour of the lyrics is enough to dampen even the brightest optimist: “Change is everything… But it’s nowhere to be found… destroy and repeat… to live is to suffer again and again… and we can’t help ourselves.” This despondent, anti-establishment attitude of the lyrics is well-served by the music’s 80s post-punk, goth rock style. New Material is at once bare, insouciant, clean, and ingenious. Preoccupations layer murky and outdated timbres with engrossing precision and clarity. The darkly ornamented steady rock of the music is contagious and invites the listeners to unburden themselves in a communion of despondent fellowship. One might wonder how such lugubrious music could be enjoyable or indeed useful at all. Although on the surface it may seem like it would just weigh listeners down with its despondent messages like an anchor (and it may do this for some), New Material may actually be a lifeline to those that feel disaffected, powerless, and cutoff. There is hope and comfort in knowing that there are others who see abuses of power in our society but also fear that systemic change may not be possible. The upbeat tune “Decompose” captures this ironic theme of hope in the shared recognition of a bleak reality with the lyrics “for better or worse, we are cursed in the ways that we tend to be.” Art reflects life. Music does not always have to be overtly uplifting. It can show us the darker side of the human experience that we all share. It can draw us out of solitude and show us that together we are not as powerless as we feared.      

How do bands deal with the shadow of their early popularity? MGMT released their debut album over a decade ago and rose to stardom with tunes that quickly became anthems for a rising generation. Since that then, MGMT has admirably resisted the pressure to release an “Electric Feel 2”. Instead, Andrew VanWyngarden and Ben Goldwasser have explored their musical identity through continued development of their musicianship and artistry. Their newest album, Little Dark Age, exemplifies their dedication to progressive music that does not take itself too seriously. The album begins with an energetic and colorful 80s workout tribute, “She Works Out Too Much”. The female instructor in the song insists, “The only reason we didn’t work out is you didn’t work out enough.” On the surface, this is a song about the superficiality of one partner in a relationship, but the listener might also consider this message’s applicability to superficial relationships between bands and their fans. Perhaps the fickleness of fans could be attributed to their shallow expectations that their beloved artist will, as the instructor in the song demands, “learn form and shape [and] stick with it.” The album is full of catchy melodies and over-the-top 80s style production but subverts the listener’s expectations at every turn. A few of the choruses contain lyrics that are shockingly stupid, e.g. “Me and Michael, solid as they come, me and Michael, it’s not a question now” and “When you’re small, you’re not very big at all.” However, these banalities come off like a joke at the expense of listeners who take them too seriously. For example, the video for “Me and Michael” shows MGMT rising (once again) to fame with this new single and then subsequently being rejected by their fans because they stole it from the Filipino band True Faith. It is a pretty creative and ridiculous hoax, a gem for attentive fans. There are several tracks that reach the listener on a deeper level. “TSLAMP” is a catchy and frighteningly real tune about phone addiction, stating, “Even if you choose to believe that it’s ending, you’ll come back to me again; you can go ahead and stop pretending.” The last track, “Hand it Over”, is a beautiful ballad that seems to invoke the listener’s obligation to give something back (the words “hand it over” are chorused over and over again). The line “if we lose our touch, it won’t mean much” shows that they are more committed to their identity than to appeasing their fans. It is a fitting ending to an uncompromisingly unique album. Little Dark Age is a fearless embodiment of MGMT’s continually developing identity.   

Instrumental music must convey strong character and heart in order to successfully pull in an audience. It can be difficult for a band to develop this unique character without the aid of lyrics because it requires a vulnerability and intimacy that is exclusively musical. Khruangbin embodies vulnerability and intimacy on their new, soulful psych-rock release, Con Todo El Mundo. The arrangements are simple and feel warm and relaxed. Donald Johnson, Jr., on drums and Laura Lee on the bass perfectly support Mark Speer throughout reverb drenched explorations of feeling on a clean sounding electric guitar. The collaboration fits together so well that the listener might wonder if the music was improvised. There is a definite funk and Latin influence that imparts fun and flavor to the album's unconcerned coolness. Con Todo El Mundo is full of surprising melodic turns that make it an especially rewarding when listening alone. At the same time, its breezy warmth could easily fill the background of a fun social setting. It is, as the title implies, an album for anyone. It belongs equally to those who are looking to engage thoughtfully with meaningful music and those who simply want to unwind.

The singer/songwriter genre evokes expectations of pleasant, thoughtful, melodious music. Simplicity is key. Songs should flow naturally, and the music should feel intimate as if the artist is sharing a secret. Vulnerability and authenticity are paramount in this style of music. Azniv Korkejian (aka Bedouine) exemplifies these qualities through her elegant and deeply personal self-titled debut release. Korkejian identifies as a wanderer. She was born to Armenian parents in Aleppo, Syria, and spent her childhood in Saudi Arabia before her family relocated to the U.S. Korkejian has traveled around the U.S.; she earned a degree in sound design while in Savannah and has settled in Los Angeles where she works as a sound editor. This identity as a wanderer is central in Bedouine, her premiere album. Bedouine is full of understated melodies that are gently supported by a quiet country band set-up and lush orchestral arrangements. The accompaniment is nearly as impressive as Korkejian herself. Warm brass, mellow flutes, and emotional suspensions in the strings weave in and out of Korkejian’s soothing vocals and subdued fingerpicking. Korkejian’s singing is mesmerizing; her melodies often imitate the natural cadence of speech and sometimes even drift into spoken words. Her lyrics combined with music give the listener an impression of complex and sometimes dichotomous feelings. For example, the ballad “Dusty Eyes” sounds mournful but hopeful as if an intense love is unrequited. She sings, “The city lights, the lamp posts burn the night, but they don’t come close… to the way that I feel about you now.” Those last eight words are repeated in a gorgeous harmonized chorus. The power of Korkejian’s music lies in the contrast of simple elements that evoke strong and complicated feelings in the listener. Bedouine feels comfortable musically, but the ambiguity of the lyrics often leads the listener to explore uncharted territory. With Korkejian as the guide, there is no risk of losing one’s way; it is a pleasure to wander.   

Traditional ambient music lacks the structure of predictable musical elements, such as regular beats, metered harmonic progressions, and catchy melodies. One might wonder how best to measure the quality of such music when it has little observable structure. Good ambient music grounds the listener in sonic feeling rather than in the contrast of explicit musical elements. It is not that ambient music has no structure; rather, its structure is crafted out of the ghost of familiarity. Phantom Brickworks is an album of repetitive melodies and haunting timbres that ground the listener in distant ambience. The majority of tracks last more than 8 minutes, which is enough time to cause the listener to sink into a still, meditative state. Bibio’s ambient tracks hold the listener in a feeling of solitude (sometimes peaceful, sometimes melancholic) with little deviation. If the music were just predictable nebulous sounds, the album would be utterly boring. However, while the feeling of each track is sustained and predictable, the sounds that inspire the feeling are constantly shifting, subtly fading in and out. The listener is captivated by each moment of musical discovery because the flow of the music is not defined by simple patterns. The flow is defined by Bibio, who (throughout his discography) has shown himself to be proficient in a variety of musical styles, a master of unique timbers, and an expert at mixing sounds. Phantom Brickworks represents the culmination of more than a decade of musical prowess. On the surface, it may seem hollow, but its natural flow and emotional stillness impart a beautiful resonance to its empty spaces which, in turn, fill the listener with feeling.                

Electronic styles of music have become increasingly popular over the last decade. This increase in popularity has put a certain amount of pressure on artists to sound flashy in order to stand out and sell music. Zach (Shigeto) Saginaw seems impervious to this pressure: his newest album, The New Monday, is rife with masterfully understated electronic sounds and rhythms. This album is a blend of jazz, hip-hop, and dance styles. It feels as if Shigeto intentionally recedes into the fabric of the sound in order to balance his own style with his guest artists’. Marcus Elliot plays a warm and soulful tenor sax on the first, fourth, and last track of the album, which serves as a nice tonic to Shigeto’s cool electronic beats. ZelooperZ adds a flavorful focus to two tracks with his unique, uninhibited style of rapping. Elements of dance beats are ubiquitous throughout The New Monday; however, they are especially pronounced on “Ice Breaker”, “Wit Da Cup”, and “Don’t Trip” (featuring Mark Guiliana on drums). Detroit is frequently referenced throughout the album, and several of its featured artists hail from the Motor City. Shigeto does not appropriate a Detroit sound on this record, but graciously celebrates the relaxed soulfulness of the city’s music with his own pensively restrained musicality. The New Monday has a fun, low-key sound that does not aim to astound but rather to hold the listener in casual splendor.  

Successful entertainment depends upon giving the audience a strong, positive first impression and then building upon that impression. In hip-hop, listeners usually have a sense of what a track is going to be like in the first fifteen seconds due to the highly repetitive nature of sampling and the limited range of a rapper’s style and vocal timbre. Leikeli47 (legal name unknown) is a rapper who owns her first impressions. She is never pictured without her stylish ski masks or her long hair tightly braided. She owns her musical style as well; her new album, Wash & Set, is front-loaded with heavy hitting tracks that drip with flavor. In the first track, “2nd fiddle”, Leikeli47 raps, “I ain’t never play second fiddle for Nathan. I mean God never bowed down to Satan.” Her confidence is clear in her quick, punchy delivery and in her lyrics. In the club-worthy second track, “Miss Me”, Leikeli47 raps about her drive to be great and her frustration with complacency, “Y’all looking for applause. Man I’m looking for summer homes. To each his own. And this is why you always gon’ need a loan; leave me alone.” She continues to build the energetic momentum of Wash & Set in the next track, “Attitude”, in which she choruses, “So what, I got an attitude. Bitch I got an attitude.” Her raps are grounded in reality; Leikeli47 raps about domination, money, and hair. Wash & Set feels authentic and empowering, especially for women. She celebrates her successful female friends in “Braids tuh’da flo(w)”, stating, “My girls just keep winning… getting braids to the flo’, nails up to the ceiling.” Wash & Set is about cultivating style and power outside of the mainstream. Leikeli47 delivers those themes with cool confidence throughout, fulfilling the expectations she sets up from the first impression.    

Jazz music is often hard to enjoy. At one extreme, it can be grating, alienating and noisy, as if it were only written for other jazz musicians to hear. At the other extreme, jazz can be so predictable, dull, and lifeless that it is relegated to the background. The most exciting jazz falls somewhere in the middle, grounding listeners in memorable melodies while dramatically suspending and expanding those listeners’ expectations. Vijay Iyer knows how to create thrilling, fiery, and soulful jazz. On his newest album, Far From Over, Vijay Iyer harnesses the dynamism of his sextet to captivate listeners in virtuosic intensity and aural bliss. Each of the six players can easily steal the musical spotlight, but they play most evocatively as a team. Vijay Iyer leads the rhythm section on keys without overshadowing Stephan Crump’s grounding double-bass or taming Tyshawn Sorey’s ferocity on drums. Steve Lehman’s wild alto sax melodies astound listeners, while Mark Shim’s visceral playing on tenor sax adds an animalistic quality of suffering and drama to the music. Lastly, Graham Haynes blends warm, earthy tones on cornet and flugelhorn and occasionally interjects electronic timbres into the mix. Far From Over is engrossing, memorable, and beyond complicated. The main melodic figure of the opening track, “Poles”, sets an appropriate tone and format for the entire album: four tones that cycle from top to bottom with all players in unison. The pattern seems simple, but the placement of the one dotted rhythm keeps shifting in relation to the figure. Like much of the music on Far From Over, the pattern is irresistible, but pinning it down feels just out of reach.