“Ain’t That Easy” comes in with an echoey ping-pong-crack snare, like a ball bouncing off the table and being exploded by a gunshot. The underlying Funkadelic blues groove is a recognizable progression from
Voodoo’s anthemic “Chicken Grease,” but has a harder, darker edge both in the beat itself and the raucous guitar lick for D’s falsetto to ricochet off. The frenetic six-string work (which according to Questo is all D) tips its hat to Eddie Hazel on all levels. “1000 Deaths” commences with the preacher reciting the Bible’s description of Christ and a groove that knocks like Funkadelic‘s hard-nosed, loose-lipped theatrical rock tailored to a the finely-tuned, yet purposely slopped styles of
J Dilla. It’s All held together by bomb squad-ish black noize sonics; a tribute to engineer and long-time friend Russ Elevado, showing that dissonant elements create a whole greater than the tracks.
“The Charade” came to life with a spacey guitar intro — again distinct Hazel meets “Diamonds + Pearls dreamscape type ish — made spacier by backwards masking. But D’s unmistakable falsetto resolves the psychedelia into a sad soulful groove, while the claps in the beat recall church service or a ’60s boogaloo track. “Sugah Daddy” (which premiered in the wee hours of the morning) is a Harlem Globetrotter-esque hand-jive beat ala “Sweet Georgia Brown,” strutting (at time hilariously) as the funkiest shyt you’ve ever heard with touches of
Roy Hargrove‘s horn composing wizardry slathered all over.
String adagios with tape noise and barely audible voices open “Really Love,” the album’s halftime lullaby. Spanish guitar comes in and we are officially in
Desperado country, but the strings resolve into a pizzicato groove with post-Dilla slow banging clap-on/clap-off beat, unclear how the parts will resolve until D’s voice says “When you call my name…” and the emotion brings all the parts together with that walking bass line. Kinda like Jay Dee and The Roots’ “Dynamite” in slow(er) motion, evoking a more wistful mood and capping off Side A with a bubbly improvisation.
Side B is truly the b-sides. Where the former is comprised of practically all single-status cuts, the flip is made up of deeper and somewhat darker cuts, socially sharp and politically poignant. “Back In The Future (Part I)” reestablishes that D’s signature is falsetto ad walking bass, continuing the cosmic feel that’s permeated throughout the record and features more lilts of string arrangements. “Till It’s Done (Tutu)” features big drums from Questo and psych-rock guitar through-a-window-fan-warble. Or is it D imitating guitar with a rhodes as he’s known to do? With Miss Foster on dirge-like vocals, the song ends on a strangely open-ended phrase.
“Prayer” has a weird and haunted, but somehow goofy synth-scape with drunken drums. Very Prince ala
Sign O The Times or “Annie Christian.” The end of the track piques with what is easily D’s illest guitar freakout yet: something like “Frantic Moment” meets “Let’s Go Crazy.”
“Betray My Heart” opens with temple chimes and a tinny guitar groove, underpinned by clockwork rimshots and Hargrove’s horns talking wah-wah rhodes or most of the song in a wordless conversation, ending on D’s equally wordless croon. “The Door” features a slow-knocking beat and whistle at it’s base. The guitar work is so Dixieland it’s almost
Leon Redbone, almost
Doobie Broothers even. But funky as fuq.
“Back In The Future (Part II)” fades up right where Part 1 left us, but quickly gives the drummer some, while D quietly catches the spirit in the background. Hi-hats sizzle on the album’s pleading closer “Another Life,” announcing a huge piano vamp. Sitar licks bring the vibe of Smokey Robinson or Chondelles pure doo-wop stylings. D’s voice here recalls
Ecstasy-era Junie Morrison, as if the full history of black music is contained within it (which some critics have described as a narrow range.) The drums gets drunker while the changes on the piano fill get bigger and louder, taking us higher and higher until it’s over.
Greenstrings, we bout to eat
