Gonjasufi – MU.ZZ.LE
Warp
Reformed drug addict turned yoga teacher Sumach Ecks strikes a raw, vital nerve as Gonjasufi. His last LP, A Sufi And A Killer, set out its hazy, desert-questing stall not with whacky psychedelia — as you might expect of a dreadlocked man that describes the creative process thus: “attacking the canvas and taming the wild horse” — but by subtly forging expertly crafted, hallucinogen-infused hip-hop gems. The record unfolded patiently and with hidden wonder, before, weeks or even months after that first listen, the final tapestry revealed an album as bewilderingly complex and memorable as any that year.
Two years and one stopgap EP on, factors immediately distinguishing MU.ZZ.LE from its predecessor are twofold: at 10 tracks and 25 minutes in length, it’s significantly shorter, and where the earlier record shared production duties between Gaslamp Killer, Flying Lotus, AJDM and Mainframe, MU.ZZ.LE’s fall squarely with Ecks himself. In fact, all that links the two records, besides an overhanging sense of hippy paranoia, is Ecks’ profoundly vulnerable rasp; it’s the impossibly gruff wheeze of a tarred and feathered Big Issue salesman.
While Gonjasufi still resides in the bleak sonic and lyrical abstract — ‘Timeout’ is one highlight, mutilated groans ambling up a bowels-of-the-belltower, minor-chord piano scree — there’s a more straightforward songcraft at work this time around, too; a stark, repetitious backdrop to disapproving lyrics like ‘The Blame’’s, “If united we stand… Shouldn’t walk on those lands / When man still learning to crawl”. Where A Sufi and a Killer toyed with obscure full-song samples and the occasional drop, ‘Blaksuit’ — like most of the songs here — trundles along a single, dusty rhythmic highway, developing with Warptastic sci-fi swooshes and rumbles. Likewise, ‘Nikels and Dimes’ begins with loping drum pistons, ricocheting over sampled girls’ squeals and what sounds like an eviscerated Bontempi, before skittering into full bloom with layers of devastated guitars and typically important-sounding, fable-like lyrics: “It all depends / How the story ends / Give to the blind / Your nickel and dime”.
Enticing as cut scenes from an otherwise impenetrable Lynch movie, MU.ZZ.LE’s sonic drudge is silk and burnt rubber and cassette reel; a car-boot orchestra for the 21st Century. For a guy who considered it necessary to boast about the fact one of his albums was recorded without the aid of marijuana, Ecks keeps things uncommonly focussed, and while his is an austere take on the flawed world around him, his redeeming mandate is to overcome, rather than decry, the unflattering reality of dystopia. Praise be. Jazz Monroe
