The expectations that come with being the first hip-hop act signed to Sub Pop, the major indie label which hosts such high-profile names as Beach House, Fleet Foxes, and the Shins, would be enough to signal a crumbling in the hands of most acts. In the hands of Ishmael ‘The Butterfly’ Butler, however, a veteran of ‘90s hip-hop act Digable Planets, Shabazz Palaces’ debut LP Black Up makes the signing look like a no-brainer. Where Digable Planets’ seminal hip-hop/jazz fusion record Blowout Comb reveled in the earthy tones of jazz and a reinvigorated sense of street rap, almost as if it pieced together relics of the past, Black Up comes at us straight from the future as if delivered by a spaceship with a heavy bass thump rattling at its core.

The jittery synths at the outset of opener “Free Press and Curl” set this record up as something totally different than anything hip-hop has seen in quite some time. Shades of acid-house brush up against Butler’s silky delivery; then, as the track seems to near its close, the bottom drops right out, with a heavy, deep bass beat giving the track a haunting, dubstep feel. It sets the bar high, but every other track on Black Up lives up to the expectations of its opener as hints of southern-style rap drip with psychedelia. Butler deftly navigates multiple genres and influences with such ease that it can be easy to get lost inside a beat before realizing the complex time shifts taking place, or the malleability of Butler’s delivery, which caters perfectly to every heady moment, such as the spaced-out synths and mutilated vocal loop of “An Echo from the Hosts That Profess Infinitum,” which slides nicely into the R&B tinged “Are You…Can You…Were You? (Felt).”

Like Sun Araw or Forest Swords, Shabazz Palaces is interested in mesmerizing the listener by adding layers of sonic experiments that come at you from all angles. Take “Endeavours for Never (The Last Time We Spoke You Said You Were Not Here. I Saw You Though),” which starts off with a looped horn sample before being interrupted by scattered bits of synth, distorted vocals, and a nostalgic glaze of vinyl hiss. Everything coalesces in due time though, resulting in one of the most soulful tracks on the album. Black Up is all about this kind of experimentation, about subverting the expectations of both the listener and the hip-hop purists. Before you even get to the lyrics, it’s a massive statement against genre complacency.

With his smooth-as-butter delivery still wholly intact from his Digable Planets days, Butler’s voice and lyrics lie at the core of the album. During its brief 35-minute runtime, Black Up manages to take on big questions related to race, politics, and identity, alongside a whole host of existential musings. On “Recollections of the Wraith,” Butler tells us to “Clear some space out/So we can space out.” It’s a simple turn of phrase, but encapsulates the hollow rhythm of the track and the psychedelic leanings of the entire album. Elsewhere on the record, and most predominantly throughout, he explores issues associated with the African-American experience; pointed and unrelenting, Butler cuts deep into the crisis of identity that comes with both being black and being a member of the hip-hop community.

There’s a dichotomy present in modern hip-hop that he picks apart, where the proletariat values he associates himself with are often pushed to the side in favor of materialistic values. Butler wants to know how successful, mainstream rap artists can portray the African-American experience as all gold chains and expensive drinks when there's such a massive divide between class and race. For Butler, hip-hop is a movement, not a genre. It’s a voice for the outcasts of society, those neglected by their government and its capitalistic machinations. Modern hip-hop is the opposite of that. It’s filled with the persona of “gangsta,” without acknowledging the roots of the word in hip-hop culture, while also glamorizing the very same capitalistic behaviors that helped create such a massive class divide. “Free Press and Curl” may be the most finely tuned example of this frustration with “gangsta” posturing. Told as a disconnected story where a young child rebels against the police, connects with his urban community, but can’t shake the feeling of consistent injustice, it’s a staggering, unrelenting piece of socio-political critique enhanced by Butler’s fierce flow. “Don’t compare my beat with his/He ain’t up off these streets,” he states with the authority of a well-worn veteran of cultural disillusion.

It doesn’t matter where you drop the needle down on Black Up; it consistently impresses sonically and lyrically. Few artists have the ambition to mesh relevant cultural critique with such diverse sonic explorations, let alone to actually pull it off with such grace. Black Up is an album in the truest sense of the word; it flows with an addictive vigor from track to track, blending the dissonant with the accessible while taking on a larger thematic importance. Shades of Dilla sound right at home alongside the psychedelic wanderings and bedroom-synths. As far as the avant-garde (and as far as 2011) goes, this is as complete and compelling as it gets. Shabbaz Palaces haven’t just pushed hip-hop in a new direction. They’re dissecting, diagnosing, and curing the genre.

Review by:
Kyle Fowle