Michael Kiwanuka
KIWANUKA
Polydor/Interscope
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Everything about Michael Kiwanuka’s third album speaks to renewed confidence and an acceptance of identity that allows his already well-proven talent to shine with the brightest incandescence. Whereas many artists would announce themselves with a self-titled debut, KIWANUKA arrives after 2012’s Home Again and 2016’s epic Love And Hate and strives to be the fullest reflection of the artist thus far.
Allied to this comes the album cover, designed by Atlanta based artist Markeidric Walker, featuring a regal Kiwanuka in the style of classical portraits of days of yore. By fusing classical art elements to contemporary subjects, Walker deifies the homegrown heroes who walk about us in the here and now. In essence, he urges us to give our heroes their flowers while they still walk this mortal coil.
Kiwanuka has spoken extensively in the interviews accompanying this release about representation and self-identity. Growing up in a middle class area of north London (Muswell Hill), it was virtually impossible to see black artists wielding a guitar. Terence Trent D’Arby once alluded to the same pigeonholing of black artists, saying that the record labels only had one available slot for a virile black man with a guitar and Lenny Kravitz was the one chosen for that role.
So just as Kiwanuka himself was forced to look to the past for inspiration and representation when he took up the guitar, so journalists made comparisons to those same artists when the time came to write about him. As much as he shares the same warmth, humanity and level-headed approach to his artistry as Bill Withers or Terry Callier, it is clear that those comparisons are also down to a deficit of other well-known role models to align him with.
Musically, Kiwanuka gives us all the angles that he demonstrated on both of his previous Mercury Prize nominated albums. There are the lo-fi moments of soulful folk that ran through his debut and also the more expansive dramatically produced sounds that made his follow-up so heralded. Back on board(s) are both Brian “Danger Mouse” Burton and British producer Inflo, fresh from his stellar work on Little Simz’s GREY Area—it is a winning combination.
Though it may contain positive intent and message, the overriding impression of the album is one of lead-heavy intensity. Even in the moments of relative levity (such as foot stomping opener and highlight “You Ain’t The Problem”), a brooding, dense mood permeates throughout. This is partly due to the nature of the production courtesy of the aforementioned duo, with its fuzzed up guitars and slightly claustrophobic distortion effects, but also to do with the sound of an artist unafraid to tackle harsh universal themes lyrically.
The influences on KIWANUKA are abundantly clear. The pounding backbeat of the live drums (that sits at odds with the fizzes and pops of drum machine produced R&B) and the added frequent glory of the conga drums aligns him further with Curtis Mayfield amongst other giants of late ‘60s and ‘70s soul music. The arrangement at the beginning and end of “Hard To Say Goodbye” is a case in point. Cinematic soul sounds redolent of Isaac Hayes lie in the swirling strings, ominous bass line and cooing backing vocals.
Highlights are many across the album’s fifty-one minute running time, making it a hugely cohesive piece that demands time is invested in its ravaged, soulful beauty. A fierce sense of identity, both musically and lyrically, makes for a glorious statement by a man who has clearly found his artistic sweet spot.
“You Ain’t The Problem” is given a sense of urgency by the Morse code-like guitar phrase that runs throughout the rollicking, rump shaker and “Rolling” demonstrates the same lyrical simplicity that characterizes the album, in lines such as “No tears for the young / A bullet if you run away / Another lost one.”
As the lyrics pour forth, it is clear that the Bill Withers comparisons run beyond the obvious aesthetic ones of a black man with a guitar. He has the same simplicity as Withers that humanizes the pain in the most direct way—they share the same expression of wider political themes in a deeply personal way.
Every single song merits mention here, be it the slurred backbeat of “I’ve Been Dazed” giving way to a rousing gospel call and response session or the solemn beauty of “Piano Joint”—it is a thankless task to keep the word count of this review respectable. One in particular that hits elevated heights is “Hero.” A clarion call guitar line ushers in a devastating response to the continued deaths of black men at the hands of hatred (“Please don’t shoot me down / I love you like a brother / It’s on the news again / I guess they killed another / Am I a hero?”).
“Final Days” has enough sorrow to make a nation cry, with its morose piano line, downhearted guitar and mournful backing vocals telling the tale of the environmental catastrophe unfolding before our eyes.
Yet it is just the start of a run that closes the album in spectacular style—the segue from that to an interlude through to the incredible build up and crescendo of “Solid Ground” is epic in the truest form. From Fender Rhodes through to the fuzzed up guitar, it is also proof that Kiwanuka’s unique voice appears made to accompany every instrument.
Gifted with a voice that oozes feeling, Michael Kiwanuka also has an artistic voice that has hit something perilously close to perfect here—if this doesn’t prove to be a gateway to bigger audiences for his incredible artistic endeavor then the blame will lie fairly and squarely at the feet of anyone but him. This is both urgent and immediate for the moment, but timelessly classic at the same time—it is triumphant.
Notable Tracks: "Hero" | “I’ve Been Dazed” | "Piano Joint" | “Solid Ground” | “You Ain’t The Problem”
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