“No Church In A While has all types of meanings,” expresses 1K Phew. The concept for their collaborative album, No Church For A While grew out of their conversations. While.” Lecrae was recording his mixtape, Church Clothes 4, when it occurred to him that people actually hadn’t been to church to even put on those church clothes in a while because of the pandemic, church hurt, and other reasons. Rappers like 1K Phew are carrying forward the torch we lit with ‘Let The Trap Say Amen’ using their music to reach hip-hop heads with a spiritually that’s not forced or foreign to them.”ġK Phew’s new project collaborative album with Lecrae, No Church In A While, features 10 tracks including “Wildin” “Ready Or Not,” “Move It,” “One Call,” “What We Gon Do,” “Amen,” “Blockhead,” “Born Sinner” “Save Us,” and “No Church In A. “Our artists at Reach Records are continuing to prove that faith can exist beyond the pews of the church if expressed authentically. Reach Records president and co-founder, Lecrae describes Phew’s sound as hip-hop that is equally at home in the club or the church. 1K Phew’s smooth delivery, swag, and evocative vocals have an infectious quality that is streetwise yet commercially viable. at the top of 2000, and more recently with Migos, Young Thug, Gucci Mane, and Future, Atlanta has proven itself to be an inimitable force.Ī new breed of artists taking the trap sensibility and elevating it into a new sound called “Street Gospel,” a term coined by Atlanta-based Reach Records artist, 1K Phew. From the emergence of Outkast and Goodie Mob in the early 90s to Ludacris and T.I. It’s music out of time, resonating to its own peculiar frequency.To say that Atlanta is merely having a moment would be to overlook decades of the region’s impact on hip-hop culture at large. It’s not deliberately retro in the manner of many analogue synth revivalists, nor does Phew waste time trying to catch up with the latest trends. This is reflected in the unplaceable character of her current work. Personally speaking, I’ve stopped being able to see a future that extends from the present.” “During the ’80s, and up until the ’90s, things progressed along a line from past to present to future, but I think that’s changed, especially since the start of the 21st century. Phew explains that there’s a loose concept running through the album, relating to the perception of time. Already well accustomed to working in isolation at home, keeping her voice down in order not to annoy the neighbours, New Decade is a stark and haunted album, populated by voices that intone empty pleasantries in English and Japanese or manifest as wordless shrieks and groans, against a backdrop of fractured, dubbed-out electronics. This has been a guiding principle for Phew in recent years, as she has amassed a body of solo work that melds her signature vocals with febrile, droning synthesisers and drum machines. Being able to openly express how you’re feeling, in spite of all that, is a sort of privilege you have as a musician or artist, and I felt like I shouldn’t abuse it.” Last year, in particular, just being alive was kind of a lucky state of affairs. “With the situation at the moment, I’ve got it lucky. “I wanted to exclude sentimentality,” she says of New Decade. “Rising to prominence with the art-punk group Aunt Sally before her first solo release in 1981, recorded at Conny Plank’s studio in Cologne with Holger Czukay and Jaki Liebezeit, Phew isn’t about to go soft on us. Iconic Japanese experimentalist Phew returns to Mute for first time in 30 years with a haunted and strung out set of barely-there vox and submerged synths
0 kommentar(er)
