For Young
Fathers, "back to basics" assuredly has a meaning that differs from
that of a fading rock band with a renewed interest in all-analog recording or a
pop singer following up a flop made with a dozen production teams. Heavy Heavy
was pitched that way, the sound of the Scottish trio sequestered in their
basement studio with what gear was on hand. Kayus Bankole, Graham Hastings, and
Alloysious Massaquoi conversely weren't self-sufficient, bringing in
co-producer and multi-instrumentalist Iain Berryman (Florence + the Machine,
Beabadoobee), ancillary musicians for strings and additional percussion, and a
few extra voices. Moreover, they continue here to hone their rich hybrid sound
-- gospel, soul, folk, dub, and hip-hop recombined with punk energy -- and
reaffirm that deeply physical music can have a psychedelic quality. There is a
key difference. Where their previous LPs up through Cocoa Sugar could seem
impenetrable, or require no small amount of mental exertion to make a
connection, this one is much more inviting, if not instantly so. It's something
like approaching a raucous uprising or celebration that seems forbidding until
the glimpse of a hand extended from the mass. Heavy Heavy pulls in the listener
with an empathetic lust for life that, whether brimming with optimism, steeling
for a threat to survival, or reckoning with a perceived futility of existence,
somehow never wavers. It's lowest in spirit on "Geronimo" with
sung-spoken remarks about "hell on earth" and the pointlessness of
being "dressed up just to go in the dirt," but the stammering
percussion develops into battle drums, and the men's overlapping voices
intensify, resolving to "survive and provide" as "a son,
brother, uncle, father figure." "Tell Somebody" expresses inner
turmoil but sounds practically epiphanal, like it was recorded in a cathedral
instead of a cellar. It's one of few songs with space. The rest are packed with
sound inducing continuous movement and thought with unrelenting drums that
grind and throttle, handclaps, and high-energy group vocals, all layered with
whirling noise that seems to be emanating from a large echo chamber. Release is
achieved through dance on most of the highlights. "Drum" more than
any other song encapsulates Young Fathers' perspective. Built on a rapid bass thrum,
it implores to "Hear the beat of the drums and go numb" because
"They're gonna get ya anyway." Hardened glam shuffle "I
Saw" starts with "I want your shield, I want your weapon," and
remains all righteous defiance expressed with clenched teeth. Young Fathers add
to the sense of community by handing the mike to friend Tapiwa Mambo on
"Ululation," appropriately enough the album's most jubilant moment.
Andy Kellman. Allmusic.com
