Instrumental albums, to make a rash generalisation, aren’t easy to listen to. By nature, consumers of music enjoy having something in a song that they are able to relate to, and, more often than not, this comes in the form of lyrics, either meaningful, something that a listener can analyse and relate to, storing away with the most treasured of memories and images, or totally vapid, but something equally comforting, able to be sung along to alone, or in a mass of drunken emotion. Lyrics, for better or worse, represent the human element of music, and whilst it is still common for whatever is in the background to dictate how successful or acclaimed a song will be, it is often necessary for this music to be covered by words, the lyrical paintjob that adds the finishing touch to the musical vehicle. Even the most acclaimed of instrumental artists often use lyrics sparingly to flesh out their work; the 10th anniversary edition of Endtroducing . . . includes versions of a number of its groundbreaking tracks without the verbal overdubs, and whilst this still leaves phenomenal music, it feels naked without the comfort of language spreading over it.With this in mind, it is always going to be difficult for artists such as Flying Lotus to attract significant attention. Whilst instrumental albums may be seized upon by those critical publications that often seem to ready to align these recordings with all sorts of esoteric motives that represent a literally wordless ‘fuck you’ to the music industry, the majority of consumers are, for better or worse, unable to devote this sort of produce the attention that it requires to be truly appreciated. Although this is in no way a significant indictment on the output of instrumental artists, it is also important to make a distinction between something that is difficult to listen to, and something that is worth listening to. Too often consumers in the alternative scene are fed lines about how music isn’t worth anything if it doesn’t take a supreme effort to listen to, yet the reality is that there is a line between music being layered, with many emotions to offer the more a listener devotes energy to it, and music that is dense and unreachable, that demands so much from the listener, and gives so little.
Los Angeles, the second full-length offering from Flying Lotus is not unlistenable by any stretch of the imagination, yet at the same time one can’t help but feel that it doesn’t offer much open further listening, not only compared to music of it’s own kind, but also when related to any music out there, and more importantly, music with words. As an album, it works. It has a beginning, it has a middle, and it has an end, like the best of stories, and there is nothing on it that could remotely be described as filler. However, the reality is that, although there isn’t a critic out there that will say it, given that it is an instrumental album, and an electronically based instrumental album at that, it could equally be argued that it is all filler, with nothing of substance around it to fill. It would be doing Flying Lotus a disservice if this were a point of view that was seized upon by everybody, because there is indeed something beneath his frenetic beats and loose instrumentations, a sense of unease that pervades the album, lending it emotional credence that often escapes instrumental work.
This disquietude is interesting to note given the musical context it is placed in within the album itself. Although the work of Flying Lotus is often seen as being instrumental hip-hop, Los Angeles is more ambient electronica than anything else, with high-pitched robotic noises rolling effortlessly over the disjointed basslines and liquid noises that seem to seep from the album. As such, it could almost be a relaxing album to listen to, were it not for the feeling of malaise that comes through at every opportunity, threatening the listener with something that is not quite tangible, but still there, a constant thought in the musical meld that is this album. Tracks are as good as indistinguishable from one another, not only because they use similar effects, but principally because they carry a similar theme, and this is the area in which an instrumental album is able to distinguish itself from its lyric-laden counterparts. Often with lyrical albums, themes are central to songs, with each individual piece of music representing a different feeling or situation, loosely packaged together and released as an album, yet with instrumental albums it is almost as if a great deal more effort is put into constructing albums as a whole when there isn’t the burden of lyrics to get in the way, and this is something that is particularly prevalent in this album.
Overall, Los Angeles is better than most instrumental albums; it retains that sense of themed cohesion throughout the entire recording, and it rarely becomes boring, or prompts the listener to skip a track. However, at the same time, although some people may be deeply affected by this as a piece of art, it seems unlikely that it will be an album that people will go back to regularly, constantly craving a hit of it, as they do some more lyrically based recordings. Flying Lotus has developed much over his four year career, but really, at that age, shouldn’t he be speaking by now?
+: A theme runs through the entire album, Flying Lotus yet again delivers interesting and different electronic music
-: No matter how interesting the music is, it feels naked with nothing verbal over it. Sorry for being shallow.
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