Heavy Heavy

For Young Fathers, "back to basics" assuredly has a meaning that differs from that of a fading rock band with a renewed interest in all-analog recording or a pop singer following up a flop made with a dozen production teams. Heavy Heavy was pitched that way, the sound of the Scottish trio sequestered in their basement studio with what gear was on hand. Kayus Bankole, Graham Hastings, and Alloysious Massaquoi conversely weren't self-sufficient, bringing in co-producer and multi-instrumentalist Iain Berryman (Florence + the Machine, Beabadoobee), ancillary musicians for strings and additional percussion, and a few extra voices. Moreover, they continue here to hone their rich hybrid sound -- gospel, soul, folk, dub, and hip-hop recombined with punk energy -- and reaffirm that deeply physical music can have a psychedelic quality. There is a key difference. Where their previous LPs up through Cocoa Sugar could seem impenetrable, or require no small amount of mental exertion to make a connection, this one is much more inviting, if not instantly so. It's something like approaching a raucous uprising or celebration that seems forbidding until the glimpse of a hand extended from the mass. Heavy Heavy pulls in the listener with an empathetic lust for life that, whether brimming with optimism, steeling for a threat to survival, or reckoning with a perceived futility of existence, somehow never wavers. It's lowest in spirit on "Geronimo" with sung-spoken remarks about "hell on earth" and the pointlessness of being "dressed up just to go in the dirt," but the stammering percussion develops into battle drums, and the men's overlapping voices intensify, resolving to "survive and provide" as "a son, brother, uncle, father figure." "Tell Somebody" expresses inner turmoil but sounds practically epiphanal, like it was recorded in a cathedral instead of a cellar. It's one of few songs with space. The rest are packed with sound inducing continuous movement and thought with unrelenting drums that grind and throttle, handclaps, and high-energy group vocals, all layered with whirling noise that seems to be emanating from a large echo chamber. Release is achieved through dance on most of the highlights. "Drum" more than any other song encapsulates Young Fathers' perspective. Built on a rapid bass thrum, it implores to "Hear the beat of the drums and go numb" because "They're gonna get ya anyway." Hardened glam shuffle "I Saw" starts with "I want your shield, I want your weapon," and remains all righteous defiance expressed with clenched teeth. Young Fathers add to the sense of community by handing the mike to friend Tapiwa Mambo on "Ululation," appropriately enough the album's most jubilant moment. ~ Andy Kellman