Autre Ne Veut // Counting // February 25, 2013 // Software

One of the most interesting and refreshing things to witness during the last couple of years was underground producers and left field singers approaching the commercial pop medium without any restraint, caution or shame that has been associated with mainstream music from the days when selling out was still a honest to god possibility. Brooklyn’s Arthur Ashin, better known as Autre Ne Veut has been putting his own shameless karaoke singer quality towards house driven r&b for years now but while his previous material was more quirky than engaging, Anxiety finds him at his most pop focused and easily approachable without losing the emotional grit.

Anxiety is Autre Ne Veut’s second studio record and just like it was the case with fellow East Coast weirdo cum crooner Tom Krell, it finds our protagonist polishing things up and delivering a much more cohesive set of songs that are easier to approach and easier to enjoy without the need for them to go on a full out experimentation simply just to be counted as credible. Even though the music on Anxiety has a much broader appeal than that found on Ashin’s self-titled debut, it still has its own charms that are unique to Autre Ne Veut (just when you think that Counting is the biggest crossover moment of the year, a broken brass section crashes the song out of a standard comfort zone). Despite the something jarring traits and some pretty unnecessary glitching here and there, Anxiety mostly plays by the rules established by others and plays them well. Anxiety isn’t as left field as some will make it out to be but at its best it feels like a warped pop record that shares many traits with the likes of Rihanna while at the same time being a bit more willing to get emotional. And while pop stars will try to force you into thinking that they’re real, Autre Ne Veut outdoes them by taking the Tumblr pop sound and giving it a romantic baggage that feels essentially vacant. This is the “making luv” music for the moments when you’re fucking someone you aren’t in love with.

At its heart Anxiety is a 80s synth driven record with some very now 808 percussion splattered all over the place. Ashin’s vocals themselves may be an acquired taste. While he is no longer sounding like a broken hearted knob at a karaoke, his voice is colder and more electric than your average r&b wannabe. This is especially clear during moments where his lyrics are the most generic. Majority of Anxiety is what you expect from an r&b record, told from an outsider perspective. It’s the moments when Ashin drops filler like “baby”, “girl” and “sexy body” that make him feel rather removed from all these things that he’s saying, in a good way. The approach reminds us of that Grimes LP from last year where the protagonist searched for humanity at the level of basic pop while at the same time feeling removed from it, unexcited by the possible outcome. It may feel as if Ashin is channeling all the pop stars that don’t write their own lyrics and don’t channel their own emotions but make no mistake, even if lyrically Anxiety is the fairly standard “love, sex and death” trope, Ashin gives his all to make you believe that this is no fluke.

A couple of years ago everyone was comparing Autre Ne Veut with How To Dress Well but Anxiety and Total Loss are miles apart. The latter drowned itself in its own sorrows and came across as pale and humourless shell of fading skin. Anxiety on the other hand is a sad record that is its own therapy. Ashin, clearly a classically trained vocalist, sings like he has nothing to lose and at his most sexually charged, comes across as Prince for the generation that get their sex online, something that the real Prince is not aware of. Anxiety is a great combination of tension and nothingness, not to mention that its gushing with hooks. Ashin has spent his career creeping in the shadows but with material as classically strong as it is essentially very now, we think he’s ready for the spotlight.

Dawn Richard // Goldenheart // January 22, 2013 // AltaVoz

Goldenheart is an uphill battle, a David V Goliath kind of story that ties in with the recent history of its maker. Dawn Richard, as you surely know by now, didn’t come around to delivering one of the weirder types of R&B by doing things the ordinary way. There’s the Diddy connections, the girl group career, the forever delayed releases and albums masked as EPs. All of that adds up to a pop state of mind and a knowledge of both sides of the commercial/critical spectrum. Goldenheart is her grand opening, a first “proper” record in her trilogy of albums that are supposed to be dropping either later this year or sometime in the future. There is every chance that this trilogy is going to turn out amazing and will stand as industry girl comes good tale of reinvention but as of right now, Goldenheart is her own The Phantom Menace, all flash with little to no action.

One thing we’ve come to realise by now is that pigeonholing Richard is as pointless as expecting her to deliver a record that doesn’t sound painfully try-hard. Goldenheart once again has nothing in common with the tribal riot of Armor On. Sadly as its empowerment theme would make a lot of sense within this particular context where Richard is looking for a lover to aid and support her in her own personal battles. It’s a loveless record looking for love and it sounds like it lacks a second half at the best of times. Goldenheart is instrumentally limp and has much more in common with the completely pointless Whiteout EP. It has that same tone of airiness to it, the idea that creating a vague atmosphere can replace the basic need to write good songs. That EP was four songs, Goldenheart on the other hand is made up of sixteen, mostly flavourless tracks that sounds like anything but preparation for a battle. There was once a chance that Richard’s inner darkness is going to make her a much needed female answer to the negativity of people like The Weeknd but aesthetics aside, it’s good songs that decide the lasting value of a R&B record. Goldenheart doesn’t have a single song that sounds like a single and when it tries to go out of its way to create something approachable, it falls flat on its face so hard it’s not even funny.

Riot is something that may be described as a “single material” but oh my god, it’s literally worse than anything Danity Kane have recorded in their lives. You seldom hear beats this generic and even if it does aim for uptempo, it’s simply not a dance track. It has that has that vague universal appeal to it that is so vague, it’s unappealing within an album that seems to be aiming for a singular focused theme. Then there’s Gleaux, a pretty bad attempt at mimicking Frank Ocean like evolution within a single track. It has no flow to it and it could seriously be two different tracks, no one would notice. Pretty Wicked Things is another of those “single-like” tracks on here and it’s just as generic. It seems to be the one that comes closer to the uplifting night club state of mind that was captured on Armor On but on here it lacks any kind of punch. It has danceable rhythm to it but I’m struggling to think of it as anything more than a throwaway ballad. Richard is terrible at dance music. The only truly disgusting moment on Armor On was Faith, a truly abysmal stab at Rihanna’s dancefloor playground. Goldenheart, sadly, is all generic dance and piano ballads that are supposed to display the chops that Richard has but her lyrics, if good don’t match the music at all. At the start of Warfaire she declares that this is the music for a fight. To me it sounds more like music to wave your white flag to.

As a singer, Richard is weaker than before. Take the towering voice of Automatic that sounds like it’s about to destroy concrete walls of oppression. Now listen to the vocal delivery on here. Richard may have producers who are allegedly willing to take unexpected risks (which is not true, they keep reusing the same pads and clap patters over and over again here) but as a singer, she is safe and her vocal style has been done to death by every major label has been/never been. It doesn’t help that her own voice is eerily similar to that of Brandy. Backed with lacklustre ballad after ballad, to me it sounds like a compilation of Brandy rarities. Even the album cover is an exact copy of Ashanti’s Braveheart. Coincidence? Not with those album titles. Oh and the final title track samples Clair De Lune which is exactly what happened on Janelle Monae’s debut LP The ArchAndroid. She may be fooling some naive people out there but it’s really not that hard to look past the pretense. There’s many visual details within the so called original vision that Richard is trying to encompass within her transformation from girl group no name to a solo singer but her proper debut is all flash, 80% ballads and some throwaway club tunes.