New Music From Tal National, Anna Burch
Tal National
Tantabara
(FatCat)
This writer was fortunate enough to catch the band Tal National at a Knoxville show in 2015, playing what would seem to be a generous 100-minute set; apparently, that’s nothing compared to the group’s performances at its own nightclub in its hometown of Niamey in the West African nation Niger, which can last five hours.
When playing for extended periods live, Tal National slips between a fiery, slowburn approach and more frenetic, charged moments; however, on the 38-minute album Tantabara—the group’s third album for FatCat, and the best so far—with a relatively limited amount of time, the band chooses to expel a huge, concentrated blast of energy.
The opening, title track is a giant kick in the ass, conveying urgency with impressive, immaculately precise runs that are tightly synchronized and sound like they could have come from Mahavishnu Orchestra.
The vigor is sustained on “Belles Raines,” and when the listener might think that the track could start to ease off, it defies expectations and begins ramping up its tempo, leading to a furious ending.
Other moments of sharp exactitude bring to mind prog rock, due to the technical ability needed to pull them off; “Pama” evokes the complex counterpoint and minimalism of King Crimson’s “Discipline” with weaving patterns and atypical time signatures.
West African scales and rhythms dominate while rock guitar styles add to the complicated mix; the quick, mind-bending guitar picking on “Akokas” conjures the frantic jazz-rock style of Sonny Sharrock.
Impassioned singing and spirited call-and-response exchanges fill every track on Tantabara, which was recorded in the band’s hometown with a total of eight different singers.
Also awe-inspiring is the drumming on Tantabara, a persistent stream of punches and jabs, like on “Trankil” with perfect, swift snare drum taps that form a sound bed. If you listen to Tantabara and don’t feel energized and refreshed, with a compulsion to move your body in some way, this writer can’t help you.
Anna Burch
Quit the Curse
(Polyvinyl)
After a relationship dissolves, there can be an unspoken game of “Who can look more normal, happy and aloof?” whenever there is an inevitable future chance meeting, despite a mix of internally smoldering emotions.
The notion of these facades is a theme that dominates the debut album Quit the Curse from Detroit musician Anna Burch, who has gone solo after playing in the folk-rock group Frontier Ruckus and co-fronting Failed Flowers with Fred Thomas of Saturday Looks Good to Me.
It’s easy to think of these as straightforward indie rock/pop songs, but a glance at the lyric sheet reveals a messiness belied by its clean melodies and charming harmonies.
Musically, it’s nothing earth-shaking, but there’s something satisfying in the way that it feels unforced; Burch sings with a gleam that’s not yet jaded or smug, and she lets her notes linger clearly, without modulations.
On the opening track “2 Cool 2 Care,” the song’s target acts detached, possibly aided by alcohol and meds, and the narrator confesses “You scare me with your indifference / I like you best when you’re a mess,” sweetly hitting the high notes as if keeping it together at a public encounter.
Another theme on Quit the Curse is one of geography, where a new location can mean a clean slate, like on “Belle Isle,” one of the album’s highlights; it calmly saunters with a slight country tinge, mostly from some tasteful pedal steel guitar licks, and sports an upbeat middle section with a hopeful attitude.
However, it’s followed by “In Your Dreams,” where a return to a location means dealing with clutter in the form of a former beau and pity/envy towards his new girlfriend.
Burch is careful to not paint herself as a victim, and this is most clear on “What I Want,” where she sings “Self-destruction is so played-out” with optimism; the song ends with “oh”s seemingly borrowed from the Velvet Underground’s “Femme Fatale,” suggesting a woman in control.
This puts an interesting twist on an album obsessed with false appearances—one might put on a good face while in shambles, or a composed look might slyly mask a woman who shouldn’t be underestimated.