Album review: Sons Of Kemet - Your Queen Is A Reptile

If you enjoyed SOK's previous releases (2013's Burn and 2015's Lest We Forget What We Came Here To Do) you won't be disappointed in this latest offering. We're in what is by now familiar territory here: two drummers pounding out polyrhythms, Theon Cross's tuba puffing some pretty wild bass lines and Hutchings's tenor ripping stacato riffs - a prevalence of rhythm over melody, but none the worse for that.

And this isn't 'just' more of the same. Hutchings mixes things up a little by subbing Moses Boyd, Eddie Hick for the usual Rochford/Skinner pairing, and adding Maxwell Hallet for the final tune here. Unless you're a connoisseur of the drum-kit, you might well be thinking, "So what?" at this point and, in truth, it's a subtle change of mood rather than a revolutionary overhaul. 

More to the point though, we get guest appearances from Pete Wareham and Nubya Garcia, providing a nice counterpoint to Hutchings on a couple of tunes, and the added vocals of Congo Natty and Joshua Idehen on three.

The album represents Hutchings's presentation of an alternative, merit-based monarchy of some well-known and less-well-known black women, ranging from the composer's grandma to historical figures like Yaa Asantewaa. (To my shame, and that of the history curriculum, I had to Google her.) 

The sleeve notes elaborate the theme, in case anyone had missed the point. 

So more of the same? Yes and no. Hardly a radical departure, but exciting stuff as always from SOK, and well worth checking out. 

I've somehow not yet caught a live performance (need to fix that sharpish) so I'll have to content myself with this video of SOK performing My Queen Is Doreen Lawrence. Amen to that.

Spellbound

If all the column inches allotted to Yazz Ahmed’s second release on Naim records were laid end to end, they’d reach from here to her Bahrain birth place and back. Okay, so I just made that up, but La Saboteuse does seem to have caught the interest of professional and amateur critics alike, occupying acres of print and megabytes of cyberspace.

Considering this, finding something new to say about it is no easy task, but I feel compelled to write about it anyhow. Prior to hearing it, reviews I’d read universally piled on the acclaim. Despite my scepticism of extravagant praise, I have to say that it’s all fully deserved. If you haven’t heard this album, you really, really need to get hold of a copy.

On the strength of reviews, Yazz’s previous Finding My Way Home album and, of course Jazzy G’s recommendation, I caught her King’s Place septet gig last November. It became my highlight of a day crammed with stand-out London Jazz Festival performances. I joined the back of a long queue for signed copies of the album afterwards, and it’s been a frequent flyer on my Hi-Fi since.

The recording gets about as close to capturing the live vibe as a studio album can, but these aren’t brash, in-your-face tunes; they’re quietly seductive. I defy anyone to hear the beautiful Bloom, and not be beguiled. Yazz’s Bahraini-British influences shine through melodically and rhythmically with electronica adding additional atmospherics.  An unusual line-up (piano/keyboards, vibraphone, guitar, percussion, bass, drums, trumpet/flugel horn) leaves a surprising amount of space for improvisation, thanks to some inspired arrangements. The addition of Shabaka Hutchings’ bass clarinet provides the perfect counter to Yazz’s long, exquisite horn lines, and Martin France’s frenetic drumming somehow emphasises the subtlety of the overall sound.

This is an exotic, heady mix that insistently, inexorably reels you in. I put on La Saboteuse while working, only to find myself listening intently to its complex layers without realising I’d forgotten what I was supposed to be doing.

La Saboteuse casts a spell, and you’ll be glad you were caught in it. Highly recommended.