Continuing his practice of combining elements from multiple genres into something new and unique,
Kevin Brereton
, better known as
k-os
, reaches even further past his usual suspects on his third studio release,
Atlantis: Hymns for Disco
. He takes staples of
hip-hop
,
reggae
, and
soul
but adds to them hints of
rock
blues
punk
. This ambitious use of resources and influences could very easily end up creating an album that sounded severely disjointed, even incoherent, but
is able to make something that, despite the diversity between tracks, works very much as a whole. This is almost all thanks to his voice, which can change from singsongy rhymes to
neo-soul
to
rap
pop
depending on what the song -- or the part of the song -- requires, and so there's a movement to the album showcasing the development of the performer and what he's capable of. While the songs in which
doesn't stray from the pattern he followed on his first two albums (
"Mirror in the Sky,"
"Cat Diesel"
[is that supposed to be a response to
"Crabbuckit?"
],
"Flypaper"
) are perfectly adequate, they also seem a bit tired, and very samey, the melodies practically interchangeable. So it's better, and it's a welcome change, when
reaches deeper into his musical repertoire and takes a risk, coming out with something much more interesting. Despite his hesitations about actually singing (like what he does in the
Sam Cooke
-inspired
"The Rain"
),
in fact sounds better as a vocalist than he does as a rapper -- his flow has never been that good, and because he approaches his rhymes from a
standpoint, he ends up sounding more like a second-rate neo-
dub
preacher than he does a conscious MC -- and his ability to pull off other styles so convincingly just proves that his talents are stifled by
rules.
"Valhalla"
sounds
Beatles
-y at first, but quickly switches into a hard
rockabilly
that keeps an
urban
beat, while
"Born to Run"
mixes
Bloc Party
Michael Jackson
roots reggae
into something that holds its own very well. This melange is made lighter and more fun by the fact that
has lost some of the righteousness that often weighed down the tracks on his previous records, as he turns his gaze on
Atlantis
inward ("seems I'm afraid of being afraid," he confesses on
"Fly Paper"
) or choosing to simply explore and describe situations regarding women and love instead of pontificating and proselytizing. He seems more comfortable and more sure of himself, and speaks confidently, but not arrogantly, about life, about appreciating and enjoying it and trying to understand it and its complexities.
steps forward while still acknowledging the past, a sign of maturation, a sign of a more complete artist who's secure in himself and the music he creates. ~ Marisa Brown