down in the sewer.

Grappling with family bereavements, lamenting the loss of pop stars, and dissecting homicide cases of his native Ohio, Kozelek finds himself in a familiar place on Common as Light.

Nonetheless, whilst the album’s pulsating melancholy may not mark a major shift in tone for the artist, indebted to his continued crafting of the dense narrative style, and provided space by the sparse and rhythmic instrumentals, Common as Light rings out with more clarity than much of his recent output.

Given the wrought sentimentality of his song writing, Kozelek’s tendency to obsess over mundanities (here, childhood grocery stores and lost Pacquiao bets are toiled over) led some to criticize the inaccessibility of Universal Themes, yet more than before, Kozelek grounds his experiences in the grander scheme of humanity. Empathy – for Elisa Lam, for those victimized by the Texas transgender bill, and for the Radiohead fans involved in the Istanbul attacks – is a key agent of Common as Light; at once making its delivery more embracing and pointed, whilst allowing Kozelek to sustain intimate engagement across the length of a double album without falling into over-indulgence. Admittedly, this is a feat also aided by the album’s sporadic skits and more self-conscious tracks – namely Vague Rock Song and Seventies TV Show Theme Song – which provide comic relief from the somberness of the album and serve as a reminder that Mark can be really, really funny when he’s not making us really, really sad.

In the decade between 2003’s Get Well Soon and 2013’s Yeezus, Kanye West underwent a transition from retrospection to introspection.

Even in their titles, his first three albums The College Dropout, Late Registration and Graduation conveyed the outlooks of a young rapper who was as much educated by his Chicago surroundings and relations as he was observant of them. However, the death of his mother Donda West triggered a search for moral guidance, and the release of the emotionally corresponding fourth studio LP 808s and Heartbreaks. For the first time, Kanye West’s influences were narrowed to within, his personal passions taking the forefront in an album of lyrical and sonic grievance. Kanye’s recovery turned out to be a cleansing of his past, and his ego reached operatic heights on 2010’s My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, prior to the release of his most divisive, most individually directed, album Yeezus. Kanye’s gradual and audible self-progressiveness had anonymised any influences that weren’t of his own creation, the result being an abrasive, centralised manifesto of his own personality. For better or for worse, listening to Yeezus meant buying into Kanye West the product much more than Kanye West the producer.

Fast forward to New Year’s Day 2016, and ten heaving months of album postponement in exchange for dedication to the Yeezy clothing line were temporarily suspended with the arrival of the song ‘FACTS’. Kanye made no resolutions in his recap of 2015’s business; a sample of Drake's Jumpman laying the foundations for verse upon verse of Nike – and more specifically Michael Jordan - directed swipes. Conceptually a bet-you-miss-me provocation to the sportswear giant that had previously cut its ties with him, ‘FACTS’s clumsily boastful wordplay – “If Nike ain’t have Drizzy, man they wouldn’t have nothing” – undermines its own credibility, at times making the whole situation uncomfortably reminiscent of another Drake-related beef of 2015. FACTS is three-and-a-half minute encapsulation of Kanye the product, with his egoistical braggadocio thoroughly blurring the line between the self and the brand – Yeezus and Yeezy. There is no sentimental future-gazing like in ‘Only One’, and Kanye’s head is set firmly in the present; filling any pause possible with pop-culture references that are intriguingly throwaway, even down to their immediate time of irrelevance - “Does anybody feel bad for Bill Cosby? Did he forget the names just like Steve Harvey?”.

‘FACTS’ is so intrinsically tied to the contemporary that it is unlikely to have a spot on February’s Swish, but released exactly one week later, ‘Real Friends’ provides more a promising insight into not only the musical content of his next album, but its emotional perspective too. Accompanied by a jpg of his juvenile self, seated at a keyboard in school attire, ‘Real Friends’ is an unforeseen reverse through Kanye West’s discography, connecting the dots between his up till now distinct phases of introspection and retrospection. The song’s haunting loop makes it sonically analogous to an 808s’ cut, but there is nothing pretentious about his reflections, presented with a sense of vulnerability cloaked by egoism in the last few albums. In the three years since Yeezus, Kanye West has become both a husband and a parent, and the struggle to balance fame and family is at the forefront of Real Friends, “When as the last time I remembered a birthday?/ When was the last time I wasn’t in a hurry?”.  For the first time since his mother’s death Kanye West’s relationships are demanding emotional responsibilities, and his learning of and fulfilment of these encounters are integral to the maturation felt on this track. In a reference to The College Dropout’s ‘Family Business’, Kanye’s self-effacing admission “I’m a deadbeat cousin, I hate family reunions” underlines a guilty alienation from the relatives who sculpted his earlier work. Considering his choice to reproduce 808s and Heartbreaks in concert and release a reworking of ‘Say You Will’ onto his Soundcloud, it seems unsurprising that this would be the point of stylistic return for ‘Real Friends’, but in truth its perception of fame and family transcends this one album. The personal and musical transition he underwent during 808s is often perceived as the point at which private progression strayed Kanye West adrift from those that had influenced him hitherto, yet rather than condemn his former associates like in ‘FACTS’, ‘Real Friends’ returns to this period with retrospective, sentimental self-scrutiny.

When it comes to the arts, no character embodies the relationship between the person and society more typically than the English poet. Staring in the face of a mainstream urban-scene void of message or meaning; British music is now witnessing a resurgence of street-wise wordsmiths. Raw, talented, and all with individual insights of the world around them: This is Poet’s Corner 2015.

King Krule: “Romance… I see romance in everything”. Speaking to Vice in Los Angeles just weeks after the release of his debut album ‘6 Feet beneath the Moon’, it is little surprise that Archy Marshall’s latest work would be his most lyrically profound and emotionally intense. Whilst he emerged from South London early 2010 under the moniker DJJD Sports, in the following years Archy Marshall would assume various identities and travel across foreign continents, yet never forget the romanticism that attached him to home; no matter where this may be. At just 20 years old and touring with an intimate group of friends - band members or not – the ability to carry the dispositions of metropolitan life is what grants King Krule the expressive nature of his music. From woozy guitar ballads like Baby Blue, to the beatnik styled ‘Krockadile’ and the WH Auden inspired ‘Ocean Bed’, King Krule’s reverb lullabies are as poetically wrought as they are passionately wrought. Thus, it is no surprise that many consider him the romantic punk poet of this generation.  

Kate Tempest: Whilst transitioning from one media territory into another has been the successful formula for so many young musicians, Kate Tempest’s progression from pure poetry to rap remains a unique – yet entirely intelligible – story of success. Aged 28, and the winner of the prodigious Ted Hughes poetry award for 2013’s collection ‘Brand New Ancients’, Tempest proved her ability to transpose with the 2014 Mercury Nominated ‘Everybody Down’; which took the format of an alternative hip-hop album, and not a traditional poetry book. On top of some sharp production from British beat-maker Dan Carey, Tempest executes verse-upon-verse of street commentary testament to her poetic facet, filling the aperture between RZA and Jamie T. From a narrative position Tempest characterises the Harrys and Beckys of her South London home, blending the borders between social observation and autobiography. The rise to becoming Britain’s forefront young literary mind has left distinct traces on Kate Tempest’s musical work, as the gritty observations collated from years living in a squat are complimented by a flow crafted from battle rapping at open-mic events. Drug deals, fights, and late nights might not be customary themes of contemporary poetry, but when your stated influences are Wu-Tang Clan and Samuel Beckett, there is certainly space for artistic licence.

Loyle Carner: To paraphrase the great American poet Walt Whitman - All humans contain multitudes. Personality is not always easy to identify amongst the hyperbole of hip-hop, but having lamented the passing of his father on the heart-aching ‘BFG’, via releasing the follow up single ‘Tierney Terrace’ – and rebuking the same man for leaving their struggling household years before - Loyle Carner captured a complexity of human nature that can so rarely be conveyed on paper or on track. Despite its sub-twenty-minute brevity, his debut ‘A Little Late EP’ contained an abundance of articulacy and humility; revealing a knack for casual storytelling verses bound by assonance and mid-flow rhymes. Carner’s craft will always be rap verse over stanza, but the emotional depth he injects into casual spitting has drawn some considerable collaborators and mentors, both his poetic and rapping seniors. Twenty years old, and with a Rejjie Snow feature and Kate Tempest support already under his belt, Carner’s maturity has been inherent for his success. Indebting the most pivotal moment of his writing career to the time he read a poem dedicated to a friend in Primary school assembly, it’s apparent that this has been embedded in his human nature since the beginning.

Sleaford Mods: Jason Williamson is not the type of bloke you would want to call a poet. Hailing from Nottingham, the frontman of Sleaford Mods carries the psyche only a professional Northern cynic could possess, but whilst his motivation may be a disillusionment of politics, distrust of the upper-class, and a despise of societies’ mundanities - he is no Tony Harrison. Juggling expletives in a manner that would make the aforementioned (and contentiously acclaimed) ‘working-class poet’ blush, Williamson’s grimly comedic quips capture John Cooper-Clarke at his filthiest, and Britain at its darkest. Yet whilst Sleaford Mods’ dishevelled and provocative dialogue may appear like mindless ranting on paper, its delivery – backed by minimalist beats to emphasise every second of Williamson’s sputtering – kindles a spirit of (admittedly intense) spoken-word performance. Poetic substance may be lost at times, but on tracks like ‘Jobseeker’, which depicts the depressed and troubled existence of an unemployed man, the vocalist’s frantic personality seems indebted to experience. The sweary façade applied to Sleaford’s observations is as relevant and progressive as any poetic form, and it is this channelling of erratic energy that makes Williamson’s performances so effective. Sleaford Mods may claim to be apolitical, but in the aftermath of an election that left so many disillusioned and powerless, their mantra of saying what they want, when they want, has been the key to their affinity with the common man. And in finding this affinity, they’ve done something Tony Harrison could never quite do.  

George the Poet: "I think rappers are primarily expected provide party soundtracks… The poet’s 'role' is usually to provide thoughtful social commentary". He may have begun scribbling bars as teenager, but George Mpanga’s music today boasts a political and literal edge that grime never possessed. Rather than follow the path of so many riddim-raised, estate-educated prodigies, George’s aspirations to represent his community seemingly outgrew the capacity of an emcee – as he left North London to widen his aims at University. Among Cambridge’s guild of affluent academics and potential politicians, Mpanga’s reservations were confirmed by a realisation that any attempts to convey his message via hip-hop would be totally lost in translation. Thus, he converted his output to spoken-word in order to communicate more effectively; and George Mpanga became George the Poet. Originally a reflection on the Olympics’ appropriation of one of London’s most underprivileged areas, the 2012 poem ‘My City’ debuted his message nationwide. But just as his pensive social-observations established George the Poet as one of the UK’s leading spoken-word artists, with a collaborative rework of his first poem, Mpanga returned focus to his musical intentions. Having established his writing credibility, and riding the wave of grime’s renaissance, it was the perfect moment for George the Poet to pitch his masterplan. Addressing what he calls ‘the 7 years of fatherlessness’, his first EP ‘The Chicken &The Egg’ (2014) was merited not merely for the lyrist’s tales of social struggles and burden, but also for its low-key urban production. Yet he isn’t quite finished. In accordance to both his name and his original ambitions, George the Poet’s most recent single ‘Search Party II’ is a manifesto for social reform, delivered over shimmering high-hats. Released during the week that JME’s ‘Integrity >’ reached number 12 in the charts, and the Conservative’s won the General Election, Mpanga’s musical-poetic call for community involvement – whilst an ongoing project – could not have more promise in 2015.

In this far from perfect society, activism is essential. From the rubble it allows ideas and dreams to flourish; reordering the world in which we live and the way in which we think. Released March 23rd on Night Slugs, the latest offering from Jam City embraces this notion; concealing the sentiments of clicktivism within an album of suitably industrial electronics.

When you consider the glassy facade that fronted Jack Latham's polished club-sound debut 'Classical Curves', the choice of album art for his latest project appears to gesture a significant musical divergence. Speaking of the rubble on the cover of 'Dream a Garden', Latham describes these industrial foundations representational of "A space that used to be colonised, and may be colonised again, but hasn’t been colonised just yet". And this is a theme that runs constant throughout the album - not only via the smoke-stack-sounds on which it is arranged - but also in its lyrical ambitions. Between moments of instrumental sparsity like 'Damage', lie honest cries for salvation - especially prevalent in 'Crisis' and 'Unhappy'. Whilst the faint vocals can be tricky to decipher, they seem to represent the drowned-out good in the overwhelmingly bad dystopia he portrays. Amongst the dismantled sonics of this album thrives a genuine want for change - and an urgency to grasp it during this time of reconstruction.

Yet whilst the album thematically differs from Jam City's past workings, 'Dream a Garden' certainly does not lose the project's distinct sound. The clicks, synths and subtleties that made 'Classical Curves' an alternative-scene success make an expected return, yet remain in the background of this album. Sporadic, chopped samplings remain fundamental, but the general ambience of this album recreates the debut's more progressive moments. Much like synthesisers were on the last outing, guitars are a constant presence on this album; be it providing delicately-upbeat leads, or faintly-looming rhythms. Whilst the whole affair remains distinguishably-Latham, with the appearance of guitars a first for Jam City, it is not hard to see why his latest release has alienated a few.

Conceptually, Latham appears to have seen the future of society; and 'Dream a Garden' is a foreshadowing, musical response. The lack of club-friendly anthems - combined with its sparsity- will leave some fans divided, yet the album's endeavour appears to outweigh its want for acclaim. 'Dream a Garden's brilliancies may not stem from the same place as 'Classical Curves', but for Jam City this album resonates a strive for change; both within and outside of his music.Thus, in portraying a reality where both society and dance music sit on the brink of revolution, Jam City is able to find music's most sought after attribute: Relevance.

As a freely-political call to arms in an overwhelmingly political-free musical landscape, this makes 'Dream A Garden' the perfect manifesto for Generation Z.

FOURTEEN SONGS FOR 2014: (click title for song)

Carissa // Sun KIl Moon - A moment of unparalleled personality on an endearingly intimate album, songs like Carissa have a knack of embedding themselves into the memory of the listener. Delivered in unmistakeable Mark Kozelek honesty, the song details the death of his second cousin - Carissa - and his subsequent passage of grief. In the most tender, pensive, seven minutes of music this year, Kozelek begins a search for enlightenment; and takes everyone else with him too. 

UNITES // LUH - Considering the animosity of previous project Wu-Lyf, it was perhaps fitting that Ellery James Roberts' three-year identity hiatus would pursue with a sudden, mid-October leak under the acronymic pseudonym LUH. The group themselves - ERJ and Ebony Hoorn - describe the track as 'a simple love song'. The result is an explicitly gorgeous blend of duel vocals, reverb and drum machine. Essentially, UNITES is the most beautiful love song of the year. 

Jazz // Mick Jenkins - Jenkins' most polished droplet from Summer mixtape The Water[s] sees the Chicago Rapper ride on pure hydraulics. Not only does its masterpiece video compliment the EP's water symbolism, but its beat drips and ripples like a globule of liquid itself.   

50 Cent // Dean Blunt - The most achingly sorrowful moment of 2014's best break-up album, 50 Cent sees Dean Blunt castigated by the authorities of love. Blunt's darkly tuneless nature is consolidated by a beautiful backing vocal, with mesmerising results. 

Johnny & Mary // Todd Terje - Perhaps out of place on Todd Terje's steadily fun début album, this thoughtful reinterpretation of Robert Palmer's Johnny & Mary commercially suffered because of it. Nevertheless, with Bryan Ferry providing a worn-yet-warm vocal performance, this track oozes with atmospherity, 

Seasons (Waiting On You) // Future Islands - Simple, sincere, solid synth-pop at its absolute finest; Future Islands' breakthrough single is an instant classic. But as if being effortlessly gratifying wasn't enough, a stripped reworking by rising producers BBNG really showcased the songs' sexy substantiality. 

Never Catch Me // Flying Lotus ft Kendrick Lamar - Nephew of John Coltrane and oracle of spiritual hip-hop - Flylo's relations go beyond the living. If Never Catch Me is a peripheral observation of death; Kendrick's verse is an evocative obituary. Slaloming over an acid-glazed drizzle of beats, FlyLo and Lamar tie the listener to a track that runs parallel to - yet six feet below - the concious stream of life. 

Give We The Pride // Chuck D - Having been openly critical of Hip-Hop's narrative since the days when he was Hip-Hop's narrative, it seems unsurprising that Chuck D - 27 years after his first commercial release - is still preaching the truth. Teaming up with gospel mistress Mavis Staples, Chuck D issues some food for thought for the youth; embedded within his catchiest release for years.  

All My Life // Run The Jewels - As EL-P would put it, the contest for Hip-Hop album of 2014 was no fair fight. Together with Killer Mike, RTJ2 saw the duo not only merit themselves as the most fierce brand in hip-hop, but slew every other artist in its path on route. All My Life is a massive track from a momentous sophomore album. 

Love Letters // Metronomy - For all the sounds of 2014, the choral explosion at 1:19 of this track may be the best individual musical moment of the year. Following a delicate escalation of brass, Love Letters explodes into a grand chant; before the instrumentation returns to bring the song back home. 

Xscape // A$AP Twelvyy - Brash and brazen freshman single from A$AP Mob's newest recruit, Twelvyy. Laid over a distinctly retro beat, and of a severely sombre temperament, its perhaps unorthodox direction makes Xscape A$AP's most under-heard - yet best - release of the year. 

Busy Earning // Jungle - Dripping with funk and blistering like the sun, Busy Earning was London's definitive summer antidote to Happy. Stirring splashes of soul, dance and electro; Jungle's first masterpiece is an addictively anthemic palette of colour and sound.  

i // Kendrick Lamar - On the back of the Hip-Hop album of a generation, releasing a new single without ambivalent response was an impossible task for Kendrick Lamar. The unashamedly melodious and infectiously catchy nature of i lead some critics to brand it 'radio friendly', but with some lyrical and musical intrigue - note some deceiving dark verses and a dash of FlyLo-esque bass - there's a lot of ground for anticipation here.  

KENDRICK LAMAR // UNTITLED (Live On Colbert) 

Since his rejection the Grammys, it seems that Kendrick Lamar has been shunning hip-hop.

The two years since GKMC's release has seen the 27 year old mature long beyond his age; both musically and psychologically.

A recent tendency to blur any boundary may have threatened isolation from the ever-explicit rap scene, but in truth Kendrick Lamar is in a class of his own. 

Febueder // Lilac Lane EP

Lilac Lane is the second EP from Ascot trio Febueder.

But presenting a vivacious palette of melody, interwoven with pattering vocals; the end product is far removed from the expected sounds of three home-county teenagers.

There is no doubt that music is becoming harder to define, and whilst the lines between indie and experimental have been smudged persistently, the face of British indie has taken a similarly disfiguring stir. Blending guitardrumbass into an unrestrained stew of mellowness, and embracing a sense of national/musical ambiguity, Lilac Lane an engaging and enjoyable EP. 

Sounding like Alt-J on a Beatles-esque meditative excursion to Brazil, Febueder pour a huge amount of foreign-spice into Lilac Lane. Rickety drums and sparse sampling provide the backdrop for some flexibly rich guitar melodies, yet with a hint of unexplainable flavour Lilac Lane refuses to adhere to the generic indie/experimental sound it could so easily be burdened to. 

Twisting and turning its way up the dusty streets of Rocinha, there is not one ounce of linearity across the 5 track EP - which borrows more than it takes. Whether it is the individualistic guitar at the start of Henna Sun, the celebratory horns that close Remix, or the incessantly clackety percussion; Lilac Lane thrives on inventive, international instrumentation.

It has abundance of heart without being saturated. It is characteristically complex without being crowded.

Perhaps, you could say, a bit like Britain itself. 

Thus, with a cohesive mix of colour and sound, Febueder are the soundtrack to variegated, contemporary Britain. But what would this blend of red, white and blue look like? 

That, of course, would be Lilac. 

Lilac Lane EP is available to stream in full at https://soundcloud.com/febueder. 

NEW TRACK REVIEW: YAK // Plastic People

If there is one indubitable thing about the internet's effect on music, it is that new bands are now vitally more accessible. 

But as YouTube live-clips and SoundCloud uploads have morphed into the norm, the route that defined so many great bands - Oasis, The Manics, even the Arctic Monkeys - has suffered a cruel, lo-fi death. 

The days of visiting a band as a stranger, and leaving the venue in love, have disappeared at the expense of a more dislocated, feigned...perhaps even plastic affair.

With a SoundCloud upload their only trace of virtual existence - but having filled several London venues this year - Plastic People sees YAK on a three-man crusade; aiming to strike fear-induced warmth into the cold heart of modern music.

Knowingly aware that for 90% of us this would be our first hearing of YAK, front-man Oli Burslem's vocals immediately and intentionally slew every inch of ambiguity. Combining Palma Violet-esque yelps with a riff-riding flamboyancy, Burselm boast a self-assuring vocal performance that Tom Meighan would be proud of. And this is no mean feat; considering the explosive, ever-shifting, ever-escalating guitars that play out on this track.

For if YAK felt that modern music lacked warmth and intimacy, the product of this angst is a throat-grasping fireball. A fiercely distorted bass-line lays down the foundations for the 3:45 track, whilst the smart and sharp guitars that opened it wildly metamorphose into blood-curdling bawls. Across their gradual descent into madness, YAK convey a feeling of effortless uproar. Besides from the bonding shrieks of "Plastic People!", Burslem's lyrics remain untethered and without consequence, evading any sort of structure. But as the song transitions towards total agitation, YAK's methodology becomes explicated: Fuck the Plastic People - we are the pure exhilaration of existence. 

With no further plans of onslaught until February, any noise that trails Plastic People will be met with compulsive anticipation. Thus, if anything, this track is a daring invitation to see them live. 

The first taste of YAK blood may be explosively bitter, but even if you don't try it soon; you get the feeling it'll be in your fridge by the Summer...

LUHSONG001; unites is a simple love song. 

Friday Night, Saturday Morning // The Specials (1981)

Had it not played B-Side to the seminal Ghost Town, Friday Night Saturday Morning would have been a ska classic. 

Nauseating bass line and vibrato organ are engulfed in a swirl of auratic numbness - taking the (most likely) drunken listener with it.

One of a handful of Specials tracks never designated an album place; Thirty-three years later, and this wholly relevant 3:33 capturing of Britain's drinking culture seems more deserving of place in a museum than an indie disco. 

AyGeeTee - Imminent Orphan, by Reckno

Here that noise? That's the sound of a grand piano melting. 

Either that, or you're listening to this latest tape from AyGeeTee. 

Out now on Reckno, Imminent Orphan is 8 tracks of manic-mutation and drum-machine. With more protrusions than an ingrown dancehall record, variation is the key on this ascend.  

Mick Jenkins // Jazz

According to Chicago rapper Mick Jenkins; Water is life, Water is the body, and Water is the soul. 

In a way he is right (70% of our body is H20) - but Jenkins' contemplations run deeper than skin and bone. 

Taken from his breakthrough mixtape 'The Water[s]', 'Jazz' is my hip-hop track of the year.  In an age of self-centralism and commercialism, Mick Jenkins stands an orthodox figure. With politically artistic videos like this, it's no wonder that Mick Jenkins has caught the eye of activist Ferrari Sheppard 

From an unashamedly metaphorical album, Jazz is a meditative gem.