DPT92

This one is probably the Dylan album I’ve enjoyed the most so far, which unfortunately still means I spent a lot of it feeling like I was being held hostage by a harmonica. I’ve now tried several of his essential albums, and I swear I went in with good intentions. I wanted to get it. I even tried to force myself into the correct respectful headspace, like maybe if I stared at the lyrics hard enough, a Nobel Prize would unlock in my brain. And sure, there are genuinely great lines ... read more

The sun had already done most of its work for the day. The beach was quieter now, the air still warm but no longer demanding attention. A couple sat at a small table outside a café that seemed to have existed forever. Nobody was in a hurry. Glasses sweated gently in the heat. Somewhere down the street, a conversation drifted out of an open window, mixed with laughter and the distant sound of waves meeting the shore with no ambition beyond returning again and again.

Nothing remarkable ... read more

This album feels less like a jazz album and more like watching someone stage a nervous breakdown as a ballet, then somehow make the whole thing swing. It has this insane mixture of elegance and violence: horns crying, shouting, flirting, collapsing into each other, then suddenly snapping back into shape like Mingus had the chaos on a leash the entire time. I love how it doesn’t really behave like a normal record. It moves like theatre, like a dream, like a drunken parade, like a fight ... read more

Blowout Comb has a lot going for it: the production is warm, jazzy, smoky, and genuinely beautiful, with the kind of basslines and instrumentals that make the whole album feel cool without trying too hard. I can completely understand why people love its atmosphere and why it has such a strong reputation, because musically it has a really distinct late-night, underground elegance. But unfortunately, the rapping just doesn’t do much for me. It feels flat, low-energy, and weirdly anonymous, ... read more