In Search Of Definition
Though the production duo (and twin brothers) Taiwo and Kehinde Hassan—aka Christian Rich—have been producing for hit artists since 2003 (see: Clipse, Foxy Brown, Raekwon), they had yet to craft a hit song. It took them almost 10 years to break—during a time when what constituted a “hit” changed dramatically, along with the sound and character of their chosen genre—the result of work done with the understated prodigy Earl Sweatshirt. Sweatshirt’s “Chum” (co-produced by the Hassans) was undoubtedly a critical success; an unusual one, yes—the track consists of an 18-year-old’s voice drowning among a janky piano loop and shambling percussion—but appropriate for the social-media driven, post-collapse industry popular music had become. “Chum” was in stark contrast to the serviceable but generic Neptunes and Timbaland emulation that was once the brothers’ calling card, and after later producing tracks for lauded Drake and Childish Gambino records (as well as two more for Sweatshirt’s debut, Doris), it seemed as though they were finding a direction all their own.
FW14—the duo’s guest-dominated debut full-length, inspired by Philip K. Dick novels and Christopher Nolan’s Interstellar —begins with forty seconds of gentle jazz and drum beats reminiscent of their adoptive Chicago’s footwork; a woman’s voice crackles, beckoning the listener to “tell me all your dreams; wishes. What’s the feeling behind it?” Then immediately—on the record’s first proper song, “High”—Vince Staples lopes over plucky synth-blips, stating “My mama always told me women psycho/Bougie bitches paying school tuition for they lipo.” Later, Boston native Bia retorts “I make ’em buy a g-wagon and a couple bundles of weed/ But if it’s two things I know, still ain’t no n***a I need.” Between verses, the beat churns into a grinding half-time, synths squealing like chrome plates scraped against one another. It’s all ambiguous, unsettling and completely enthralling—repugnant verbal acrobatics on one end; android sex music on the other. Unfortunately, within FW14‘s 47-minute runtime, the pair only rarely reach this peak with equal impact.
Christian Rich play with a blend of electronic dance music, contemporary R&B, and the strangely popular apocalypse funk emergent in mainstream hip-hop (see Kanye’s “Mercy;” all of Yeezus). “Forever Ever” breaks up pop melodics with squelching atonal thuds. “Real Love,” sung by Angela McCluskey, is a pleasant Everything But The Girl-by-way-of-Moroder throwback, followed by the cinematic psyche-gospel of the JMSN-led “Fast Life.” But despite this genre-hopping, the duo never stray too far from contemporary norms, playing a bit too safe when tracks demand more adventurous sonics. This in itself isn’t damning, and outside a few missteps (notably the cheeseball yacht-positivity of “What More”), FW14 is an incredibly solid record, maintaining a consistent and effective nostalgia-futurist feel throughout. One could even argue FW14 is a little too solid, devoid of the beautiful damage that graced productions like “Chum.”
Not to say the pair never stretch for higher places. “Bells” is simultaneously pounding, sensual and hallucinatory, with Niia’s ashy vocals twisting and warping along with the beat. “Better To” boasts some gorgeous, earworm vocals from synth-pop band DWTWN, which make up for the tracks generic disco stomp.
And then there’s “Face.” “Face”—sung by Denitia and Sene—sees the bleak melancholy that had colored the Hassans’ work with Sweatshirt return. Here, two lovers, tired and mournful, adress each other atop an oily-black sea of rippling bass and funeral cellos. “If it was that simple,” Denitia croons, “Every morning there’d be roses by your window/Every evening there’d be sweating in our bedroom.” She then asks her partner to tell her about his day at work, before mentioning she’s given up half her closet space to him. Sene responds with impossible promises, while Denitia sounds preoccupied with all the things she’s lost and will continue to lose by staying involved. “Face” works as a sibling to “High” (and the only track on FW14 that approaches the latter’s greatness), portraying male and female vocalists in pursuit of sex—a connection—but who focus on potential negative outcomes. But unlike the naive chauvinism of “High,” here the individuals are grown and worn, and the mixture of platitudes and mundane observations they speak of are incredibly powerful. The inclusion of “Face” so far into FW14 demonstrates that even in the retro-future-space-age-erotica universe that Christian Rich have established, romantic intent does not negate the adversity people face, both together and as individuals. Cars can fly, but sex still isn’t simple.
Overall, FW14 is a thoroughly competent, if not particularly unique or groundbreaking record. Still, Christian Rich provide enough glimpses of bottled lightning to maintain attention. One can hope that for their next effort, the Hassans can ditch a bit of their perfectionist inclinations and incorporate more of the beauty that lies in mess, damage and being broken.
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