Tired Tricks
Sometimes things work out a lot better on paper. This applies to all facets of life, but as time has gone on it has grown increasingly relevant. As a society, we are constantly tinkering with formulas in order to create the best prototypes possible. Based on this sentiment, it is reasonable to assume that things only get better with time, but often, somewhere along the line, things go missing, they miss the mark. More concrete subjects like math and science are easier to monitor through time, so it makes sense that art is perhaps the biggest victim of this patterned depreciation. This is certainly not to say that art in recent memory, in general, has gotten worse over time, but it has become an increasingly common occurrence for innovative ideas to fall short of their full potential. There are many reasons this may happen, but frequently artists lack the “it factor” to make the project come to life. As painful as it is to admit, Gaika’s Basic Volume is hip-hop’s latest to fall victim to a lack of the “it factor.”
While the “it factor” is quite hard to measure, it still is extremely relevant to the world of arts and entertainment. This factor is often what makes an album truly stick out from the rest of the pack; it ties together a beautiful painting. And while it can help define magnificence, the absence of an “it factor” can hinder a piece of art tremendously. A work that could have been a masterpiece can become average or even unlistenable. This wasted potential is perhaps even more upsetting than hearing something that is downright terrible.
Gaika Pedro Tavares’ vision behind Basic Volume was certainly commendable. From a production standpoint, the album meshes an industrial trap-house and hip-hop style with many elements of Afro-Cuban and Caribbean music. The cut “Seven Churches for St. Jude” exemplifies this pairing well with its integration of chanting samples into an 808-laden groove. This in itself is extremely appealing, but somehow the track still doesn’t land. Gaika’s Jamaican flair adds some spice to the song, but ultimately the tonality and consistency of his voice really do not sell the track. This track is a good microcosmic representation of the rest of the album: when the production is on point, Gaika usually does not give the listener enough to latch onto. And when Gaika’s primal moans actually create a haunting atmosphere, the beat is often not doing the same.
The pieces of the puzzle rarely come together, making this album a slog to get through. Sure, you can innately groove and bob along to some of these tracks, but their lack of clarity often leaves more to be desired. Still, there are some highlights dispersed amongst the tracklist. “Born Thieves” and “Black Empire (Killmonger Riddim)” both deliver on a big level, exuding incredible energy through syncopated production and unique vocal performances. While the latter of the two tracks features a triumphant and crushing reggae flow from Gaika, the former track is much more subdued. This stripped back version of Gaika connects with the listener at a high level. The lower fidelity vocal stanza in the track’s outro is a welcome change of pace as the intimate nature of the passage really manages to strike a chord. The improved annunciation and somber attitude lead one to believe he has something important to say, or perhaps he is just getting his message across better on this track than the others. Either way, the fact that this question is not concretely answered should signify a problematic disconnect.
Gaika’s loose annunciations often fail to get the job done throughout this project, despite the fact that creative producers such as SOPHIE really do create a pretty nice canvas with which to work. It is completely understandable that sometimes the sounds that harbor the most impact are the hardest to distinguish; but if these sounds almost exclusively define your album, then you have an uphill battle to face.
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