![]() The latter is an album-length self-excavation that crawls through moldy memories in a brutal poetry that is at times darkly funny but mostly wrestles with personal and societal truths that'll leave you touched, shook. It's said that comedy is tragedy plus time, but what if the tragedy never ends? Does the lengthening onslaught ever become absurd enough to laugh at? billy woods released two great albums in 2019: the jagged Terror Management and Hiding Places, a collaboration with L.A. ■ MORE: Jewly Hight reviews Songs Of Our Native Daughters The Daughters' collaboration is enriched by the distinctness of each of their voices: the dogged Appalachian blues rock of Kiah's "Black Myself," the willowy reverence of Russell's "Quasheba, Quasheba," the commandingly vivid narration of Giddens' harrowing call-and-response "Mama's Cryin' Long," the Kreyol liveliness of McCalla's "Lavi Difisil," the polyrhythmic communal audacity of "Moon Meets the Sun." It's an album that rustles with collective imagination and purpose. But, urged on by Giddens, they shaped a song cycle aimed at reversing the erasure of black women from American historical narratives, at zeroing in on the dehumanizing suffering black women faced under slavery, their strategies of survival and resistance, their sharp, sly critiques of oppressive systems, their creativity. It would've been a historic event for four women of color who write, reinterpret and perform roots music on banjo to simply come together and make music - their collaboration is, in and of itself, a reminder of the whitewashed African roots of their instruments. Our Native Daughters chose a band name and album title that highlight the kinship ties between the four group members - Rhiannon Giddens, Amythyst Kiah, Allison Russell and Leyla McCalla - and their musical, cultural and spiritual ancestors. ■ MORE: Watch Jazz Night In America's Christian Scott special From the exuberant, endlessly intricate West African polyrhythms of "I Own The Night" to the Afro-Latinx groove of "The Shared Stories of Rivals" to the metallic, Afrofuturist clang of "Prophesy," this project is both firmly rooted in the past and a vision of a dynamic, powerful future. With guest artists including musician/poet/rapper/actor Saul Williams, Ancestral Recall is an intense, keenly felt and richly articulated celebration of many of the musical streams that have nourished generations of the African, Native and Caribbean diasporas - a sonically and texturally spacious project that would feel urgent and necessary at almost any time, but asserts itself especially now. New Orleans trumpeter Christian Scott aTunde Adjuah is one of the most compelling voices working in music today - and his latest "stretch music" album is possibly his most ambitious work to date. Wistful, resigned and cutting, it's a fitting swan song for the decade. In collaboration with producer Jack Antonoff, drawing on the Laurel Canyon sound, she achieves both timelessness and timeliness in tone. ![]() With callbacks crisscrossing place and time, her music is now made of her own sepia-toned mythology. As her discography has grown, her imagery has evolved: less shorthand, more self-reference. Norman F****** Rockwell! sharpens the singular vision that's always animated Lana Del Rey's body of work. ![]() Consider, then, a side-by-side accounting for a certain pop star who came into full flower over the course of the decade: In 2011, Lana Del Rey's mere presence was viewed by some as an affront to the ideal of authenticity in 2019, few albums achieved the critical consensus that greeted Norman F****** Rockwell! At some point between " Video Games" and " The greatest," Lana Del Rey went from upending accepted norms to voicing our collective unease. Twice this year across social media, the so-called 10-year challenge meme made the rounds (and prompted some extremely 2019 cybersecurity concerns). ■ MORE: Watch Tyler Perform At NPR's Tiny Desk Even with a supporting chorus of Kanye West, Lil Uzi Vert, La Roux, Solange and more, the true magic of this album is Tyler's ability to let his guard down just enough to give you symphonic slivers of his heartbreak. ![]() The pining of "EARFQUAKE," the short-lived euphoria of "I THINK," the feeble negotiation of "NEW MAGIC WAND," the obvious lie of "I DON'T LOVE YOU ANYMORE," the diluted compromise of "ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?" Think of these tracks as the face muscles that construct the dead-eyed, sanguine smile you flash during that first unexpected run-in with your ex. Across 40 minutes, IGOR draws, erases and redraws emotional lines in the sand, smudging up Tyler's self-esteem with each new boundary crossed. IGOR, the fifth studio album from Tyler, The Creator, mourns a love that was never granted permission to flourish in the first place. But what if you're not even allowed to call it a break-up?
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