SAULT
Nine
Forever Living Originals
BUY via Bandcamp
Editor’s Note: ‘Nine’ was intentionally available via streaming platforms for a limited time only following its release, but the album is no longer available to stream, hence the absence of embedded audio in this review.
It seems that SAULT are intent on dominating summer yet again. Announced with typically understated fanfare via their Instagram page, Nine comes with a caveat this time round—it will only be available for a finite 99 days on streaming platforms. Beyond that, physical formats will be your only way of hearing it.
Having introduced themselves in 2019 with 5 and 7, they kicked the doors of 2020 in with their impeccable twin triumphs of Untitled (Black Is) and Untitled (Rise). Bristling with pride, strength and infectious rhythms, they soundtracked that most challenging year in ways that soothed the spirit and agitated the mind and soul.
The same themes still preoccupy the work—Black pride, social justice and stimulating thoughts of change are the mainstays of their canon. Just as last year’s album titles communicated the concept, so a further Instagram post explained the rationale for this album: “Some of us are from the heart of London’s council estates where proud parents sought safer environments to raise their families. Community is the only real genuine support & the majority of us get trapped in a systemic loop where a lot of resources & options are limited. Adults who fail to heal from childhood traumas turn to alcohol & drugs as medicines. Young girls and boys looking for leadership can get caught up in gang life. It’s very easy to judge. What would you do if this were you?”
Thus is the concept introduced and the album’s stall set out for those eager to digest the latest volume from the notoriously private and reticent group. There are differences that jump out immediately when comparing this album to last year’s pair of powerful statements.
It is shorter for a start, which makes it feel slighter and less impactful, but only upon initial listen. The longer I spent with the album, the clearer it became that this was definitely more personal than previous efforts. For all that those behemoths of 2020 pointed out society’s shortcomings and exhorted it to find a way to improve, this is riddled with more personal details and reveals (though actual names may evade us) who exactly SAULT are. As the Instagram post affirmed, they are products of a society that does all it can to break working class communities and demonize youth, particularly Black children.
The second half of the album, in particular, addresses these issues with heart and warmth while the first half is a murkier and more oppressive state of affairs. The menacing bass and occasional scratchy guitar heard in “London Gangs” is emblematic of the first half of the album that continues with the loping, baggy beat of “Trap Life,” before it shifts and turns into a grimier slice of life with the lyrics touching on mistrust of the police.
“Fear” slowly builds a sense of claustrophobia with its sparse drums and bass, giving way to wonky keys and a refrain of “the pain is real.” The turning point on the album is the firsthand life experience of Michael Ofo, who recounts the day (in spoken word) his father was killed in Dalston, East London. As the broad themes addressed in the opening half of the album are given voice and placed in firsthand narrative, so the album changes to become more personal.
Alongside those more personal recollections comes a more expansive and contrasting musical expansion. Nowhere is this better illustrated than on “Bitter Streets.” Seemingly from nowhere spring blissful, bright and breezy strings to contrast with the tales of street life: “Your energy / Takes away the best of me / I remember when we were young / You made friends with a gun / You didn’t leave / Fell in love with the streets.”
Swooning, romantic keys tell of a doomed love affair on “Alcohol”—self-medication to the wistful accompaniment of delightful Fender Rhodes keys and a hint of tuba to accentuate the very bottom end of the bass. “You From London” is the sole track to feature Kid Sister and uses SAULT kinfolk in Little Simz to play around with the United States’ preconceived notions of Britishness and the shock that accompanies discovering Black people have a home here in the UK.
Somehow despite the retelling of the harshness of urban life, the album rounds out with two doses of hopeful positivity. Title track “9” is built around some delicate guitar lines and has a hint of psychedelic soul as Cleo Sol sings, “The rough can scare people / But I am made of love.” The song closes with a spoken word account (presumably from Inflo) of how youths can be mislabeled and misunderstood, which in turn leads to the demonization of entire generations of (Black) kids in urban settings. The closing “Light’s In Your Hands” is a piano led ballad that sees the group edge as close to gospel as they’ve ever been and it is anchored (like most songs) by Cleo Sol’s impeccable delivery.
SAULT always do a tremendous job of balancing the darkness and light—no matter how angry, worn down or dejected they may be, it is always counterbalanced by hope and a sense of self determination. This album is no different. If you can move hips, that is great. If you can move minds, then that is equally good. But to do both (as SAULT have consistently done) is to hit the sweetest of spots—that can be world-changing.
While it doesn’t hit the same spine-tingling euphoric heights as 2020’s ultra-dynamic duo, Nine is another excellent addition to the group’s catalogue and once again proves that Inflo and Cleo Sol (as main contributors) are nearly untouchable in their prowess. Here’s to them maintaining their pattern of releases and 11 following in the not-to-distant future.
Notable Tracks: “Bitter Streets” | “Light’s In Your Hands” | “9”
BUY Nine via Turntable Lab