Carl Faure, one half of the ‘worlds-colliding’, Black Grass attests:
“The relations between genres and between underground and the mass-market is actually really fluid. You can’t separate out music. The album that we’ve made is an embodiment of that idea.“
Both the press release that accompanies this self-titled debut album, and the music itself hypothesize about the fluid melding of cultures and styles. And yes, it’s a fairly cosmopolitan palette: hip hop, jazz, soul, chill out, reggae, house, funk, R n B, UK garage. But listen closely enough and you’ll be able to hear the none-too attractive crashing of worlds collapsing and the sound of techno-tonic plates wrenching apart. The eclectic but differing outlooks of Messrs Mex and Faure that promised such a far reaching debut (Mex has a has a deep and abiding love for hip hop and the breaks, Faure – has a background in drum’n’bass, house and nu jazz) fails to account for the more natural divides in the heart of the listener. There’s simply more pushing than pulling and it makes for a difficult ride.
Album opener ‘Grass Roots’ is pleasing enough. Funky Philadelphia strings, wobbling flange guitars, kick ass snares and some deeply groovy percussion. As bold as it is brave. But before we’ve barely had time to slip into our moccasins and superfly cat suit we’re ushered into the disturbing urban dawn of ‘Easy’ featuring Blak Twang. Cue perfunctory effing and blinding and crazy bitch talk. It’s one thing to take the rough with the smooth, it’s quite another take the shit with the shovel.
More generous though are tracks like ‘Score’ with its slinky, nocturn jazzisms and delicate flamenco styling, the sombre and soulful ‘Going Home’ featuring Khahn and the Morricone hip-hop of ‘Self-Assessment’, featuring Maylay Sparks. These tracks are sharp. And it ends on a good note too: ‘Toys’ – a little like Zero 7, a little like Air.
Out of step, if not quite out of two-step.