New Music From Here Lies Man, Ben LaMar Gay
Here Lies Man
You Will Know Nothing
(RidingEasy)
In an alternate universe, it could have been a premise for a Big Brother-type reality show: let’s put the members of Black Sabbath, Fela Kuti and Carlos Santana in an apartment for a week and see what wackiness ensues.
However, in our universe, the Los Angeles band Here Lies Man might sound like the output of a productive session with those figures, mixing throbbing, fuzzed-out ‘70s hard-rock riffs, West African grooves and a bit of psychedelic rock.
Multi-instrumentalist Marcos Garcia (a.k.a. Chico Mann) and drummer Geoff Mann (the son of jazz flutist Herbie Mann), both of whom have played in the Afrobeat band Antibalas, continue as the group’s core duo on its second album, You Will Know Nothing.
Immediately, the album’s heavy riffs grab the listener, appealing to a compelling gut feeling, and soon afterwards, there’s the realization that something interesting is going on with the rhythms that’s not typical in rock; it’s perhaps an easier sell for those coming from the hard-rock world rather than from the West African music world.
While Here Lies Man’s creative strategies might sound novel, it admits that it builds upon traditions rather than claiming to be something totally new; that said, it does underscore the benefit of looking beyond our continent for rhythmic inspiration in a rock context.
While You Will Know Nothing is heavy on drums and distorted guitars, sinister keyboard accents and conga beats vitally contribute to its personality, and when lyrics are present, they’re just a few words, repetitively chanted as if some kind of incantation.
One only needs to listen to a few seconds of “Animal Noises,” with its call-and-response riffage and close-up and dry drums, to discern whether or not it’ll appeal to the listener’s tastes.
However, the album isn’t all in-your-face rock—“Floating on Water” has a relaxed tempo and a slowburn approach, with watery-sounding vocals, and the closing “You Ought to Know” is a genuinely gorgeous track.
While the debut was a beast of an album, wisely, You Will Know Nothing stretches its arms out and mixes up the moods, expanding fruitfully upon its premise.
Ben LaMar Gay
Downtown Castles Can Never Block the Sun
(International Anthem)
Music history is peppered with auspicious debuts; an egghead might point out that, well, every artist has to start with a first album, and statistically speaking, some of them will be excellent. But, consider that an artist can take as much time and effort as they want before that debut album comes out; then the clock starts ticking for a follow-up—a “sophomore slump,” if deemed disappointing. A lackluster debut will simply be ignored.
It’s hard to ignore the debut album from Chicago musician Ben LaMar Gay; in the last seven years, he has recorded seven albums worth of material that remained unreleased until he picked 15 selections to comprise Downtown Castles Can Never Block the Sun—a sprawling, impressive, glorious mess of an album that darts between styles relentlessly. The only apparent cohesion is its lack of cohesion.
Gay’s roots are in jazz, as a cornetist and participant in the venerable AACM (Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians) that fostered numerous avant-garde legends, and his track “Muhal” serves as a tribute to the late AACM co-founder and pianist Muhal Richard Abrams; it’s a fascinating, driving track, with envelope-treated synths, delicate reeds, an assertive bass clarinet, sharp rhythmic outbursts and a percussive tension, with the listener being poked and prodded from all directions.
“Music for 18 Hairdressers: Braids & Fractals” is Gay’s nod to Steve Reich’s minimalist masterpiece “Music for 18 Musicians” with note patterns and metallic sounds (perhaps the snip of scissors) weaving in and out in a sort of precise industrial choreography.
Vocals vary from the wordless, breezy singing on “Uvas” (enhanced with a trio of female singers) to lyrical numbers that delve into cooking (“A Seasoning Called Primavera”), an anthropomorphized forest (“7th Stanza”) and the neo-Beat speak/sing poetry of “Swim Swim.”
Once the listener thinks they might have a grasp on what’s going on—with elements of jazz, funk, soul, electronic music, lounge, hip-hop and classical in the mix—along comes a track like “Miss Nealie Burns” that channels Eastern European folk music, with insistent banjo strums and a swift 2/4 beat.
Gay’s intriguing debut requires multiple listens and doesn’t seem to be the result of a short attention span—ideas are fleshed out with care, here; instead, it’s more like Gay has a lot of ideas and a lot to say, so buckle up—you’re going to hear it all.