Shabazz Palaces
Black Up
(Sub Pop/Inertia)
For all the hype, you’d think Odd Future were the only weirdos rapping today. But far less juvenile and every bit as subversive are Shabazz Palaces—the Seattle project helmed by Ishamel Butler of the Grammy-winning ’90s trio Digable Planets. Two stellar EPs have led up to this cryptic album, which boasts the same hall-of-mirrors quality to its sticky refrains and inky production. There’s also a remarkable self-awareness in the lyrics—even by hip-hop’s meta standards—about making music in modern times. And finally, there’s a real knack for conveying emotional nuances.
A lot of that comes out over time. One’s first impression of Black Up is more likely to be consumed by the sub-bass throb, ephemeral noises, percussive clatter, and focused flow of opener ‘Free Press and Curl’. Abstractness aside, it brings us closer more than it pushes us away. The rest of the album follows suit, offering unlikely hooks while pushing the sonic palette into the lost-in-space outer reaches previously explored by the likes of Antipop Consortium, Company Flow, and Cannibal Ox.
As akin to Suicide and shoegaze as to cosmic jazz and teary soul, this record sounds visionary but is still capable of directness; like when “It’s a feeling” is repeated until it has set the tone for the rest of a track. Later, the line “Clear some space out so we can space out” is used to similar effect: first to catch our attention and then to mine deeper meaning with each repetition. This really isn’t so different from Digable Planets, who also juggled earnest emotion with oblique impulses. And while Shabazz Palaces adopt aliases and sprawling song titles, there’s an accessibility and a soulfulness here. As alien as the setting is, the feelings are all too human.
That said, you’d be forgiven for having doubts. For me, the track that really unlocks everything is the closing ‘Swerve… The Reeping of All That is Worthwhile (Noir Not Withstanding)’. On it, Thee Stasia of the duo THEESatisfaction—whose partner Cat Satisfaction sings elsewhere—finishes her guest turn with the knowing line “This shit is way too advanced.” Then comes an eerie coda where the word “black” is mulled over and riffed on: “Black is you, black is me, black is us, black is free.”
Besides being catchy, it makes explicit Black Up’s fidgety issues of identity while ending on a note of unity. It’s these questions—the fluctuating identity of black Americans, of hip-hop, of all performers and their personas, and of fringe voices in the internet age—that seem to drive Shabazz Palaces and this complicated album.
Doug Wallen