I've recently been making a possibly ill-fated attempt at getting into "beer tasting." In his book Tasting Beer, Randy Mosher implores a budding taster to trace his/her feelings back to its source. First, you realize that you like tasting this particular oatmeal stout. But why? Because it reminds you of Grandma's cookies. Trace it back to the core emotions though—why does remembering that make you like a beer? Because your grandma passed away a few years ago, and you miss her. An oatmeal stout becomes something completely different in the simple act of tasting it.
This can be applied to music as well. I listen to Bubba, and I don't like it. But why? Let's trace it back to the source. A lot of Kaytranada's music brings me back to those times in my life when I found myself in a crowded club on a Saturday night. Think something like Bleu Martini. This was not my scene. My claustrophobia would flair up; it wouldn't be comfortable (unless I could paper it over with a blackout, but that's a whole different kettle of fish). A lot of this type of dancy R&B would soundtrack my anxieties. And it seems like those feelings come back when I listen to Bubba.
Plenty of caveats to go around, of course. First, not every song on Bubba makes me feel this dread. There are a few tunes that sound like a guy at a laptop, creating some cool beats. It wouldn't be out of the question to run into "Puff Lah" or "DO IT" at a club, but it would be significantly less likely. Additionally, obviously Kaytranada is good at what he does. I don't think he cares about my delicate sensibilities, and he fucking shouldn't.
Which means that I'm the wrong fucking guy to review this album. I hope Bubba gets plenty of positive reviews on PoYB today, and I hope that if you are the type of person to drop $14 for a vodka-tonic at Bleu Martini, that you'll check this album out, and bop along with the grooves. Count me out.
GRADE: 2 pukes out of 5
No comments:
Post a Comment