Knowing next to nothing regarding L.A.’s Coffin Prick, I do know that with Loose Enchantment (Temporal Drift) he’s defying being pigeonholed as to being one thing. Mainly driven by a wash of keyboards and synths, the album’s punk aesthetic is worn directly on proverbial sleeves.  The album is fun and while Loose Enchantment might be a loosely expressive release, we should take it seriously. The drum machine driven “Shortly Forgotten Pleasure” is catchy AF, playful and completely endearing while the title track is simple in its approach but completely memorable with its mechanical rhythm and keyboard washes. But while the album may be filed under “electronic,” it’s not all just electronically obsessed. The band’s quirky leanings on “Soap” shows a different look with post-punk vigor. Look at that, I guess we can classify Coffin Prick. Regardless, this album is sweet in any direction it moves in.

MOURNING (A) BLKSTAR – FLOWERS FOR THE LIVING

Memory rarely proves me correct, but I don’t recall the moment I first discovered Mourning (A) Blkstar, the musical unit hailing from Cleveland, Ohio. What I do remember, though, is that the band was attempting to do something…different. It’s a kaleidoscope of sound that unravels elements of R&B, Soul, Hip-Hop, Improvisation, and Spoken Word to serve up a powerful form of expression.  

After multiple releases, Mourning (A) Blkstar returns with the new album, Flowers For The Living (Don Giovanni) and yes, there’s growth, at moments, it’s astonishing, and at other times the band takes chances that work to its benefit. Looking at how things begin, MAB is onto something because “Stop Lion 2,” which features Lee Bains (The Glory Fires), it’s a banger. Both lead singers here harmonize perfectly with one another, but it’s the rhythm the band rides that is as infectious as the common cold. The underlying keyboard wash rallies around just a couple of notes as the bassline & percussion lay the foundation. Horns explode around it, and there just isn’t any stopping the song’s movement. The track could go on for 15 or 20 minutes instead of the 3:49, and you’d still want it to continue. There are moments when it seems there’s a little vocal improvisational runs going through it, and it’s fine because it all gels and comes together. “Can We?” continues within the same spiritual flow as the song is driven by that bassline as the rest of the band plays off of it. Was it improvisational vocals here as well? Quite possibly, but the grooving rhythm and backing vocals simply allow the track to stand on its own. But then we get to “Letter To A Nervous System,” which takes a different turn altogether. The song drifts, caressing a wave of melody delivered by a sole trumpet with a soulful vocal delivery as guitar notes are plucked gently and its bassline moves slowly. It’s wonderous, filled with uplifting dual vocals with lyricism that seems to be juxtaposed here with semblances of desperation. The beauty of this song just can’t be put into words.

It’s the way the band creates its songs, built around ideas morphing into something much more grandiose. That could in of itself be a description of the album’s title track, which starts innocently enough as the band members converge around it as something esoterically soulful is created. Voices meld with horns and melodies collide against one another, giving MAB its own identity because there is nothing or no one that could possibly sound like this. “Let ‘Em Eat,” which features “Fatboi Sharif,” is a 2-in-1 treat. Two songs for the price of one. What starts as a lite jazzy affair blooms into something dense and archaic, with Sharif’s words fitting within the apocalyptic backdrop. It’s weirdly alluring. It’s “88 Pt. 2,” though, a calm, smokey, jazzed-up spoken word piece, that’s trance-inducing with its luscious melody. But the band doesn’t stick to one formula, although it keeps its identity tightly pressed against its bosom with an odd vocal delivery over what seems like a blacksploitation track with “Lil’ Bobby Hutton.” Horns, a quick-paced guitar rhythm, and an overly-eager percussive attack draw this one out into the open. It’s more than just interesting to say the least.

Discovering Mourning (A) BLKstar again and again is worth just about any price so long as it’s high, and Flowers For The Living again finds the group defying standard normalcy within the music industry. It’s Afrofuturism is unique and unequivocally unmatched. That’s not an easy feat to accomplish.

EZRA FURMAN – GOODBYE SMALL HEAD

There are those that sit around waiting, those that toss their fists in the air believing the world owes them something, and then some who do neither, placing their proverbial noses to the grindstone and putting in the work. It may go unnoticed occasionally, but then at the right moment, the world stops, turns, and pays its utmost attention. When that moment arrives, all the labor and toil finally pay off with high-priced dividends.

Chicago’s Ezra Furman has been writing/recording and releasing material since 2007’s Banging Down the Doors, back then as Ezra Furman and the Harpoons. Today, Furman releases the 10^th overall full-length album, Goodbye Small Head (Bella Union). Produced by Brian Deck (Modest Mouse, Red Red Meat, Califone), the album’s production clarity allows Furman’s songwriting to flourish and resound crisply, much like a NY fall morning. Furman is inventive with a delicate looseness and it’s clear within the music itself and the opening “Grand Mal” is proof of that. An infectious pop song that doesn’t walk through the same worn out path as other, Furman opts to do things differently. Looping voices for melodic effect, underscored by rhythmic double bass strings before violins wistfully enter. But it’s Furman’s metaphors that appeal through the musical backdrop with, “I believe in the shiver that comes in and takes over, I don’t wait till it’s over, I bathe in its waves…To the sea from the river, I’m swept and pulled under, I never recover, I won’t be the same.” Furman is going somewhere with this and I can’t help but think there is power in those words continuing, “It can happen whenever, I don’t hold the lever, the shiver that severs the heart from the brain, and it burns through the tethers on electrical pathways, it hangs me up halfways between never and plain…And from here I see clearly, across rolling meadows, around the earth curving, and surging in pain.” There’s a piano clink that seems misplaced but the irony is it fits well within the song’s structure. If this doesn’t intrigue, something is deftly wrong.

Furman’s songwriting is strong and you hear it on “Sudden Storm” although vocally it might sometimes be off-putting but you’re not going to care because the song is tightly wound together. But it’s the oddness of that vocal delivery that’s fitting elsewhere, and that’s on the brilliantly lit “Jump Out” as strings & guitars collide, while building around Furman’s words until its inevitable frenetic burst! The initial take might be how the song comes across as haphazardly pieced together but it isn’t, it’s fucking genius! There’s a quirkiness Ezra Furman allows to surface and it’s apparent on “Power Of the Moon” with its opening drum machine pattern and effected vocals before Furman turns it all around into a rollicking pop tune. I’m reminded of another but comparisons are cheap and I’m not short on funds. But Furman can dig in and write songs that are heartfelt bordering on intuitive. “You Hurt Me, I Hate You” has a clear venomous bite to it over a bouncy little melody, and the strings are always there, nestled alongside the piano. The distorted guitar capitalizes on the vocal melody, repeating it through its notes. And then there’s “Strange Girl” which could be a written from an Ezra Furman point of view. Self-conscious? Possibly, bordering on deprecating with enough self-worth to be accepting.

If there’s ever a moment, this is Ezra Furman’s time, the moment when everything comes into focus and all should take notice. Goodbye Small Head will have you reeling from its powerful song structures and writing throughout the album. Furman hits gold here and no one will be able to say differently.