na: aesop, angels

New albums from Aesop Rock, Angels of Light, Wiley and Kathryn Williams (among others). To borrow a phrase from Barton Fink, “Let’s spit on our hands and get to work.”

Aesop Rock, None Shall Pass
Aes’s last record left a lot of people flummoxed — the production was too dense, the songs too slow, the rhymes too obscure. None Shall Pass corrects all of those shortcomings; the songs are a bit more spry, and Aesop gets back on the beat instead of trying to rap against it. “Bring Back Pluto” is built on a hazy snipped of soul guitar and “Getaway Car” has all the thump and stomp of classic old school hip-hop. It’s also festooned with guest stars — co-Jukkies El-P, Cage and Rob Sonic turn up and the last song features a cameo by John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats. I didn’t like this at first because it reminded me of the Police. Now I spend half the day singing “we don’t need no walkie-talkies/no, no walkie-talkies” over and over in my head.

Angels of Light, We Are Him. Easily one of my favorite records of this year, and will no doubt be rounding out my Top 5 (along with MIA, the National and Miranda Lambert) when list-making time arrives. I’m halfway through an enthusiastic review of it for the site as we speak, but to sum up: everything Michael Gira does well — menace, condemnation and repetition/repetition/repetition he does even better here. On his records with Swans, those qualities were harnessed to music that was relentlessly amped-up and brutal, but his work has gotten even more ominous since he’s unplugged. We Are Him is the last great groan before the end of the world and the best Angels of Light record so far. Gira moans out his dire proclamations over acoustic guitars and dirgelike drums, the songs never more than single melodic phrases repeated over and over and over again until they provoke a kind of mania. As a friend of mine recently put it: “It’s a motherf—-er.” Indeed it is. If you want to know if this is for you, try “Not Here/Not Now.” Preferably with the lights off.

Raekwon Presents Polluted Water
There is no bigger warning light in hip-hop than the word “Presents.” It’s generally an excuse for reliable MCs to slack off while lackluster members of their crew string together clunky rhymes over cheap beats. Polluted Water changes it up a little — Rae rounds out his mediocre stringers with reliable guest MCs like Busta Rhymes, Method Man, Three Six Mafia, Pimp C, Remy Ma and Jagged Edge (?!?!) The trouble is, they can’t compensate for the underwhelming performance of Rae’s Ice Water crew and can’t overcome the mixtape’s chintzy production. Fans may want to check this out anyway, but more casual listeners are better with the far superior Vatican Mixtape, Vol. 1.

The Real Tuesday Weld, The London Book of the Dead
Past Tuesday Weld records have felt quirky and light, but this one is a bit more meditative (I also notice a Lightning Seeds reference in one of the titles). This is not so much my thing, but anyone with a jones for light, synth-based pop (with a few slight nods toward lounge) may enjoy this.

Kathryn Williams, Leave to Remain
Kathryn Williams turned a lot of heads in the UK quite a few years ago with the elegant Old Low Light. On Leave to Remain she offers more gentle acoustic songs, her alto still warm and soft and strangely fragile. Fans of Judee Sill and Joni Mitchell will love this.

Strong Arm Steady, Deep Hearted
Strong Arm Steady, recently seen contributing a guest spot on the excellent new Talib Kweli album, turns in his second full-length bolstered by appearances from The Roots’ Black Thought, The Game, Chamillionaire and Kweli himself. But like the Raekwon tape the trouble here is, again, the production — too cheap, too flat, too uninspired. The guest spots make it worth a mention for true heads, but others might want to take a pass.

Wiley, Playtime is Over
During the 30 minutes when grime was going to take over America, Wiley was seen as a logical follow-up to Dizzee Rascal, another motormouthed rhymer with icy-cold beats. In truth, they were a bit different — where it was relatively easy to spot Dizzee’s roots in American hip-hop, Wiley’s songs were a bit more alien. His music was dubbed “eski” for the chilly synths darting around behind his rubbery rapping. His debut didn’t make much of an impression, but word on this follow-up has been consistently positive. I haven’t had a chance to listen myself, but the samples seem promising.

Rounding it out, a new single from The Clientele, the No Age record that I’m hoping Todd will say more about, great reggae albums from Dennis Brown and Barrington Levy, and another one from production whiz Odd Nosdam. Oh yeah, and Gina Gerson.