NPR Music's 50 Favorite Albums of 2013

*Dream River* is Bill Callahan’s 16th (or so) release, including those he recorded as Smog. His music is mysterious and intense. Even after 25 years, it remains filled with surprises. Where in the past Callahan has thrived on repetition, here nothing is static. *Dream River* is sublime in its subtlety; each word and pause feels essential. The instruments are in sync with Callahan’s drowsy and understated baritone, and the arrangements fully support the freeform lyrics and open song structures. The music is lush and the backing band inspired, particularly the remarkable guitar work of Matt Kinsey. His guitar tones play off Callahan’s vocals beautifully as keyboards, flute, congas, and percussion add texture and motion on standouts like “Javelin Unlanding” and “Spring.” Another highlight is the opening “The Sing,” a Callahan classic featuring pedal steel, electric guitar, country fiddle, and a hint of mariachi rhythm. *Dream River* is an affecting album that ranks among Callahan’s best work.

Ol' man Eagle is back, floatin' Apocalyptically on a Whaleheart down the Dream River. Eight gentle percolations fire the pressure-cooker of life, dialing us into the Callahanian mind- and soul-set. Deep like aqua, soulful like man and animal alike.

Singer, songwriter, and producer Dev Hynes’ follow-up to *Coastal Grooves* is a mix of hazy electronica, treading bass lines, and waves of stirring Prince-inspired vocals. From the stark midtempo rapping on “Clipped On” to the blog-buzzing harmonies of “Chamakay,” *Cupid Deluxe* is dimensional, hypnotizing, and amorphous. With contributors ranging from Chairlift’s Caroline Polachek to Dave Longstreth of Dirty Projectors, *Cupid Deluxe* is a distinct and mesmerizing album that proves Hynes is as talented at a soundboard as at a microphone.

Cupid Deluxe is the follow up to Devonté Hynes’ debut as Blood Orange, 2011’s Coastal Grooves. Since that album’s release, Hynes has written and produced music for the likes of Solange, Sky Ferreira, MKS, and more. Cupid Deluxe shows a more expansive aural palate than its predecessor while retaining the pop sensibilities that Hynes has showcased since his days in Test Icicles and Lightspeed Champion. Simply put, Cupid Deluxe perfectly highlights why Hynes has become one of the most exhilarating and prolific voices creating music right now. The album was produced by Hynes in his adopted hometown of New York City, mixed by Jimmy Douglass, and features amazing guest appearances by David Longstreth (Dirty Projectors), Caroline Polachek (Chairlift), Samantha Urbani (Friends), Clams Casino, Despot, Adam Bainbridge (Kindness), Skepta and many more.

Omar “Bombino” Moctar has achieved something of guitar-god status in certain quarters after building a career as one of the most notable Tuareg musicians to emerge from North Africa. As with the Tuareg group Tinariwen, Bombino\'s popularity is growing in the States. When The Black Keys\' Dan Auerbach discovered Bombino, he invited the \"desert blues\" master to his Nashville studio, where they recorded the divinely textured *Nomad*. Bombino also sings and writes his own material, and his distinctive guitar style is a perfect subject for Auerbach\'s producer talents. *Nomad* is a gorgeous work that blends Bombino\'s earthy vocals and hypnotic, repetitive guitar style with other instruments—like bass, Farfisa organ, lap steel, djembe, and percussion—to create a vibrant, lush soundscape that celebrates both western rock guitar and the sounds of the Saharan Tuareg. Songs like \"Amidinine\" and \"Azamane Tiliade\" reverberate and pulse with a distorted, bluesy Black Keys vibe, while other songs, like the softly percussion-driven \"Ahulakamine Hulan\" and the mesmerizing \"Zigzan,\" are rich with Middle Eastern flavors. A treasure.

On *La Noche Mas Larga*, the Spanish vocalist Concha Buika continues to mix genres in effective ways. Buika’s main influence is flamenco, a style that takes no prisoners. But the powerful singer—who was born in Palma de Mallorca to parents from Equatorial Guinea—successfully brings flamenco intensity to more easygoing pop and Latin jazz settings. *Noche* opens with “Sueno con Ella,” where Buika is accompanied by lively piano from music director Ivan Melon Lewis and chugging percussion. A version of Ernesto Lecuona’s “Siboney,” which has sleek backup vocals and a streamlined horn arrangement, nicely showcases Buika’s vocal skills. Handclaps and scat singing animate the Jacques Brel classic “No Me Quitte Pas.” On “Santa Lucia” by the Argentinean-rooted singer/songwriter Roque Narvaja, Buika lets loose over a cool groove created by Alain Perez’s electric bass and Dafnis Prieto’s intricate drumming. “No Lo Se” features guest guitarist Pat Metheny, who solos in a sensitive manner on the slow-tempo cut. The New York–based Cuban percussionist and singer Pedrito Martinez enlivens “Los Solos.”

A few years removed from *Acid Rap*’s 2013 debut as a free mixtape, it’s surprisingly easy to hear impending greatness in Chance the Rapper. This hindsight comes, of course, well after the BET, Soul Train, and NAACP Image awards for best new artist, the Best Rap Album Grammy, hosting *Saturday Night Live*, the noted influence on rap demigod Kanye West’s *The Life of Pablo*, the friendship with the Obama family, the Kit Kat endorsement, and so on. But it’s here, across 13 genre-melding tracks (14, if you count the second half of “Pusha Man”), on the follow-up to 2012\'s debut *10 Day*. In the moment, Chance the Rapper’s aesthetics—a distinct singing voice stretched in all directions over a jazzy confluence of choir melodies, R&B guitar lines, vintage soul samples, trap drums, golden-era hip-hop beats, and Chicago juke music—were something of an outlier within his city\'s emerging drill music scene. “I dropped *10 Day* the same year Chief Keef started blowing up,” Chance told Apple Music’s Nadeska. “All the labels came into Chicago and the drill movement came up and it was a lot of pressure. Also around that time was when Chief Keef worked with Ye, so there was a big question of, \'Yo, you\'re the dude that super loves Ye, you’re quote-unquote “conscious rap.” You should be doing this stuff.\' So I just had a lot of pressure to bring something.” Chance would inevitably link with Kanye, but most who found their way to *Acid Rap* were looking for an alternative to drill. Which is not to say that Chance didn’t acknowledge the plight of his hometown. Topically, the second half of the album’s “Pusha Man” (colloquially known as “Paranoia”) is one of the most affecting songs of the period, with Chance singing, “Everybody dies in the summer/Wanna say goodbye?/Tell \'em while it’s spring.” Elsewhere, he uses his melodic croak to reminisce on the simple joys of childhood (“Cocoa Butter Kisses”), the man he’s becoming (“Lost”), and problems within his relationship (“Acid Rain”). *Acid Rap*’s guests are mostly voices just left of hip-hop center (Childish Gambino, Action Bronson, Ab-Soul), but Chance also made it a point to include Chicago speed-rap legend Twista and to introduce listeners to the young genius of Noname. So who then, by way of this 13-song conflation of sounds and voices, could have have known that Chance the Rapper would go on to become one of the most celebrated voices in hip-hop and a force of pop culture in his own right? The answer, simply enough, is anyone who would have listened.

Brooklynites will be the first to tell you that their fair borough is the center of the universe. But composer Darcy James Argue is one resident who feels more than a little ambivalent about it. Originally a collaboration between Argue and visual artist Danijel Zezelj that was mounted as multimedia performance piece, *Brooklyn Babylon* is a fable about the world’s tallest building, which is erected in Brooklyn, Tower of Babel–style. If nothing else, this is a pointed statement about what this borough once was (ethnically diverse and typically working class) and what it\'s becoming (the gentrified home of the Nets). The 18-piece Secret Society already took the jazz world by storm thanks to Argue’s imaginative compositions on 2009’s *Infernal Machines*, which drew on modern big-band jazz, minimalism, indie rock, and other genres. While there\'s no libretto, the music here sums up the lives of simple workaday folks (“Prologue”), the broad ambitions of civic leaders (“The Tallest Building in the World”), Brooklyn\'s teeming energy (“The Neighborhood”), and small moments of reflection (the seven interludes). A multifaceted work that realizes its lofty ambition.

Composer David Lang found the inspiration for *Death Speaks* by combing though the immense songbook of 19th century Austrian composer Franz Schubert with an eye for lyrics that personified death. Setting the fragments of Schubert’s text to his own music, Lang enlists a roster of artists from the disparate musical worlds of New York City (including My Brightest Diamond vocalist Shara Worden, composer/pianist Nico Muhly, and guitarist Bryce Dessner of The National) to craft a haunting song cycle that gorgeously bridges the gap between contemporary art-music and indie rock. With macabre elegance, Lang’s voice of death (chillingly intoned by Worden) is seductive and fragile, welcoming listeners to join her \"in the cool, dark night” with arpeggiated strings, delicate electric guitar, and spectral arrangements. Likely to appeal to listeners far beyond the borders of contemporary classical music, this ambitious piece embodies a transcendent, inventive spirit that—like the subject at hand—defies easy classification.

What people are saying about Dysnomia : " Something totally unprecedented " - Pitchfork " Stellar...at a loss for words " - SPIN " Sounds like something completely different " - NPR " Perverse in a good way " - The New York Times " Seriously never seen anything like these guys...favorite thing in years " - Jad Abumrad, Radiolab " Cannot urge you more strongly: go see Dawn of Midi " - Sasha Frere-Jones, The New Yorker " Moving and addictive...a feat of innovation " - Interview Magazine " An unplugged translation of contemporary electronica...state-of-the-art. " - Time Out NY " It sounds like nothing else right now " - The Guardian " A mysterious, vital sound with a pull all its own " - Los Angeles Times " A work of lunatic genius " - The Village Voice

*Liquid Spirit* is the 2013 Blue Note debut from singer-songwriter Gregory Porter, who came to the historic label after two definitive outings for the jazz indie Motéma. The album successfully harnesses Porter’s strengths, giving him the space to expand on what was already a unique and acclaimed sound. In a way reminiscent of Nina Simone, Porter connects to a wide-ranging audience with his effortless blend of modern jazz and acoustic soul. Everything rests on his voice, which is unerring in pitch, at once laidback and punchy, improvisational but precise. Pianist Chip Crawford and the band are impeccable, endlessly versatile, putting a glow on every song, from the ring-shoutlike title track to the pop-folk loveliness of “Wind Song.” Porter’s singing is superb on the ballads “When Love Was King” and “Wolfcry,” and his way with an old and prescient soul-jazz hit like “The ‘In’ Crowd” (made famous by Ramsey Lewis) is irresistible.

This talented three-sister act received what felt like years of hype with its advance EPs before finally releasing its debut album, *Days Are Gone*—which sports a title seemingly aware of how much time passed while fans were waiting. With such expectations, *Days Are Gone* delivers on the hype, with self-penned songs so perfectly performed that it feels unfair that Haim has received so many comparisons to Fleetwood Mac, no matter how kind and worthy. A catchy tune like “The Wire” is so immediately likable that it\'d throw the rest of an album by a lesser act off balance. Except Haim is the real deal, and even the very next songs—“If I Could Change Your Mind,” “Honey & I,” “Don’t Save Me”—exhibit fresh excitement of their own propulsion. Producer Ariel Rechtshaid (Usher, Vampire Weekend) helped these songs flow with their identities intact. The album features the best attributes of \'80s pop; while those who lived through that era might feel a sense of untraceable déjà vu, everyone should marvel at the catchy, unforced fun heard throughout this remarkable debut.

James Blake\'s second studio album, *Overgrown*, is a hypnotizing foray from an artist whose influences have grown from the subtle, futuristic textures of his eponymous 2011 debut to embrace everything from gospel choirs to post-dubstep. On *Overgrown*, Blake further expands his omnivorous influences and yields eclectic results—from a hip-hop track featuring RZA (\"Take a Fall for Me\") to a piano ballad that foregoes synths and electronics entirely (\"Dlm\"). *Overgrown* is challenging but accessible, confidently pacing through a multifaceted garden blooming with complex electronic layers, styles, and emotions.

By the time of *Southeastern*’s release, Alabama singer/songwriter Jason Isbell had spent as much time out of his old band, The Drive-By Truckers, as he had in it. After a clutch of celebrated releases with his new backing band, The 400 Unit, *Southeastern* is his first full-on solo effort, and dominated by quiet ballads and exceedingly personal songwriting. Whether writing about his own struggle with substance abuse or the trials of other carefully drawn characters—like the cancer patient at the center of “Elephant” or the protagonist of \"Live Oak,\" who feels strangely stuck between his troublesome past and his reformed present—the album contains Isbell’s most introspective tunes to date. All told, *Southeastern* is a collection from a cuttingly crafty songwriter at a crucial point in his life and at a high point of his career.

The Alaska-based composer John Luther Adams writes music influenced by the natural world and the late 20th-century avant garde. Adams, who\'s been an environmental activist since the \'70s, studied with James Tenney at the California Institute of the Arts and draws inspiration from the spare, contemplative work of Morton Feldman. The 2009 piece *Inuksuit*—with a title that refers to stone landmarks used as signposts and monuments by native Arctic peoples—changes each time it\'s performed. The varying numbers of percussion instruments and the physical locations where the performances take place both shape the results. This recording was made in the foothills of the Green Mountains of Vermont in 2012. Early in the hourlong piece, listeners are pulled in by ambient sounds—birdsong, dog barks, and much else. When the percussionists start to join in, their playing feels like a natural outgrowth of the setting. Later, the drums build and make a sustained joyful noise. Eventually the percussion quiets, and we return to the foothills’ sonic environment. There are magical moments in this compelling musical engagement with nature.

With five years between *Wed 21* and Juana Molina’s last album, *Un Dia*, one might expect a jarring stylistic shift or new direction. Fans of the Argentinian alt-rock musician will find not just a thread of continuity here, but an even more robust expression of the artist’s craft. Songs thrum and hum; loops of acoustic guitar notes and braided vocal parts envelope listeners in an intimate cocoon of artisanal nü-folk. Molina’s delicate whispered coos make great bedfellows to the subtle washes of woozy synths and percussion inflected with a Brazilian spice. What keeps Molina’s music from being sweet, predictable, or pure folk is her kind of wild-card aesthetic: it\'s not too far from that of Wildbirds & Peacedrums or the punky folker Micachu. There’s a jazzy element, a playful mix of ideas, and a boldness to Molina\'s work. But every part is there for a reason; every tonal twist or dash of sour or bittersweet is carefully planned. *Wed 21* is smart and a bit addictive, and it may send some non–Spanish speakers to nearby classrooms to learn how to sing along.

A hip-hop veteran hailing from Brooklyn\'s Brownsville neighborhood, KA got his start in the early \'90s with underground favorites Natural Elements. In recent years he\'s made a major comeback, releasing several high-quality, self-produced albums that have won him props from such disparate sources as Okayplayer, NPR, *Rolling Stone*, and Pitchfork. Rocking a distinctly raspy, almost-whispered flow, he lays down an advanced assortment of autobiographical rhymes that address his appreciation for true hip-hop (\"Off the Record\"), nightly shenanigans in the city (\"Knighthood\"), and the inevitabilities of middle age (\"Our Father\"). As with last year\'s excellent *Grief Pedigree*, the beats here are extremely understated and minimal: just sparse drums sprinkled with darkly atmospheric loops to set the mood. Roc Marciano lends a hand on \"Soap Box,\" but other than that it\'s all KA, delivering a low-key avalanche of storytelling verses that also touch on chess, religion, and the sometimes grim realities of BK.

Kacey Musgraves knows how to wrap an intriguing story around an ear-snagging hook while capturing the rhythms of small-town life. Songs like “Silver Lining” and “Step Off” are notable for their delicate balance of hope and realism; “Stupid” and “It Is What It Is” face up to the hard truths behind romance with remarkable clarity. This is smart, superbly crafted, and truthful to its tuneful core.

Laura Marling’s questing nature reaches its zenith on album four, the 16-song epic *Once I Was an Eagle*. It kicks off with a hypnotic four-track suite of songs tied together by a raga-like drone and hand percussion, sucking the listener into her existential headspace. Further in, there’s classical guitar (“Little Love Caster”), tender devotionals (“Love Be Brave”), and Dylan evocations (“It ain’t me, babe,” she affirms on “Master Hunter”), all stirred by her steely interrogations.

On her striking debut, the conservatory-trained singer declaims over melodies that stop and start with her every syllable, then waft around her like a pleasant daydream. She approaches music with the swing of a jazz singer, the heft of a soul performer, and the tonic clarity of a classical vocalist. She combines those impulses on sunny pop gems like “Like the Morning Dew,” while “Green Garden” bubbles with handclap percussion and light xylophone melodies. The full orchestra that backs many of these tracks serves to heighten her infectious sense of wonder.

Brooklyn-based Lucius\'s first full-length album, *Wildewoman* is an eclectic, winding indie-pop excursion, grounded in humming hooks, spunky harmonies, and unconventional instrumentation. Signed to Mom + Pop Music—a label that\'s home to Sleigh Bells, Freelance Whales, and Andrew Bird, among others—the group leaps among eras of pop music with breezy facility, sounding like \'60s girl group one moment and sleekly sophisticated new wave revivalists the next. From the dance-ready \"Turn It Around\" to the quiet, yearning \"Two of Us on the Run,\" the styles vary wildly from track to track. But things are held together by Jess Wolfe and Holly Laessig (both voice majors at Berklee College of Music), whose vocals offer a sharp, unifying current that flows throughout the album.

Rhye\'s music is so Sade-like and heavy with musical instruments that it might seem odd to label it electronic. Yet it shares the chillwave DNA of The xx, Inc., and even Toro y Moi. *Woman* is an appropriately earthly title for this silky-smooth debut, perfect for a laidback late-night lounge set. “The Fall” layers murmuring piano phrases with a woozy, danceable mélange of brass and synthetic strings. Meanwhile, violins and cascading harps introduce the finger-snapping swing of \"Open.\" Michael Milosh\'s falsetto vocals are androgynous and pitch-perfect.

San Fermin—the band, not the Spanish town that hosts the annual Running of the Bulls—is a lot of things. It’s a dramatic, operatic vehicle for supreme vocalists like Jess Wolfe and Holly Laessig (from the luscious pop group Lucius) and the rich-throated Allen Tate (who evokes Bill Callahan and Crash Test Dummies’ Brad Roberts). It’s a stunning testament to the writing talent and vision of Yale music program grad and pianist/composer Ellis Ludwig-Leone. San Fermin creates a Dirty Projectors/Fiery Furnaces–flavored burst of young adult angst. It’s a brainy and moving and introspective piece of art, and it’s chamber pop at its finest. From the somber opener, “Renaissance!” (with Tate’s dry, hard-baked baritone pushing up against the formidable Laessig-Wolfe united front and a phalanx of horns and strings), to the eerie denouement of “Altogether Changed” (a gorgeous, early choral music–inspired piece that floats into the good night), Ludwig-Leone examines our yearning for meaning as we choose a path into adulthood. It\'s visceral, relatable, and breathtaking.

Sky Ferreira—a hugely talented pouty-lipped waif with an old soul—wrested what was to be her debut full-length away from her label and convinced them to grant her a do-over. The result was recorded in less than three weeks, then mixed and released in a whirlwind of alchemy. *Night Time, My Time* is an impressive and muscular collection. After a series of singles and EPs, Ferreira exudes her L.A. cool all over *Night Time*, from her nude photo on the cover to her edgy delivery. Her dusky throat and pop-be-damned attitude puts her squarely between artists like Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Icona Pop, swerving between an injured coo and a bad-kitty snarl with smooth deftness. Whether she\'s belting out the wistful ballad “24 Hours” or the stomping hissy fit “Nobody Asked Me,” there’s an appealing anthemic quality to these songs, written by Ferreira and a songwriting team that incudes producer Ariel Rechtshaid (Charli XCX, Usher, Haim). She strays into Madonna’s fertile territory on tunes like “I Blame Myself” and reaches into the icy underworld of ‘70s postpunk pioneer Alan Vega on “Omanko,” a clear measure of her intentions. The girl’s got it.

Virgins was recorded during three periods in 2012, mostly in Reykjavik, Montreal and Seattle, using ensembles in live performance. The sound palette of this work is wider, almost 'percussive' and tighter sounding than previous works. While this album remains committed to a painterly form of musical abstraction, it is also a record of restrained composition recorded live primarily in intimate studio rooms. This record employs woodwinds, piano and synthesizers towards an effort at doing what digital music does not do naturally—making music that is out of time, out of tune and out of phase. This follow-up to his Juno-awarded Ravedeath, 1972 album exchanges gristled distortion and cavernous sound in favour of a close, airy, more defined palette. At times it points to the theological aspirations of early minimalist music. But it is not 'fake church music' for a secular age, rather something like an attempt at the sound of frankincense in slow-motion, or of a pulsing, flickering fluorescence in the grotto. Some pieces go off the rails before forming into anything, others eschew crescendo compositional structures or bombastic density while going sideways instead. It points to the ongoing development of Hecker's work. It suggests illusory memories of drug- hazed jams or communal music performance that may have never been performed or been heard. These are mp3s that give confusing accounts either of sound's glowing physicality or of its prismatic evasiveness. It is an offering of music into the void, a gift of digital filler between distractions. Yet hopefully it also stands as a document of the enduring faith in the narcotic, enigmatic function of music as long-form expression.

There are deftly wielded forces of darkness and light at work on Vampire Weekend’s third record. Elegiac, alive with ideas, and coproduced by Ariel Rechtshaid, *Modern Vampires of the City* moves beyond the grabby, backpacking indie of its predecessors. In fact, whether through the hiccuping, distorted storm of “Diane Young” or “Unbelievers”—a sprinting guitar-pop jewel about the notion of afterlife—this is nothing less than the sound of a band making a huge but sure-footed creative leap.

While Waxahatchee’s debut, *American Weekend*, is often described as “haunting” (for good reason), the artist’s sophomore release exudes a more pointed, aggressive sound. Waxahatchee is Katie Crutchfield, a singer/songwriter and Alabama native doing what should be impossible by now: giving new life to a well-worn musical genre. On *Cerulean Salt*, she swings from stabbing, grimy guitars on the first two tracks to a relaxed and almost sweet-seeming saunter featuring tambourines and acoustic guitar (“Lips and Limbs“). Then a thudding, spare bass and hollow snare paint a bleak picture on “Brother Bryan.” That song opens with the line “I said to you on the night we met, ‘I am not well,’” which tells you what to expect lyrically on this beguiling work. Crutchfield’s an honest, straightforward artist who emits the smart pop-flavored confidence of Liz Phair, the mystery of Cat Power, and the melodic playfulness of Pavement, though Waxahatchee’s sound is considerably simpler. Whether she’s slamming her electric guitar or strumming an acoustic, the emotional nakedness of *Cerulean Salt* is a beautiful thing.

On her second full-length record as Waxahatchee, former P.S. Eliot singer Katie Crutchfield’s compelling hyper-personal poetry is continuously crushing. Cerulean Salt follows last January’s American Weekend -- a collection of minimal acoustic-guitar pop written and recorded in a week at her family’s Birmingham home. On this new record, Crutchfield’s songs continue to be marked by her sharp, hooky songwriting; her striking voice and lyrics that simultaneously seem hyper-personal yet relentlessly relatable, teetering between endearingly nostaglic and depressingly dark. But whereas before the thematic focus of her songcraft was on break ups and passive-aggressive crushing, this record reflects on her family and Alabama upbringing. And whereas American Weekend was mostly just Crutchfield and her guitar, Cerulean Salt is occasionally amped up, with a full band and higher-fi production. At times, Cerulean Salt creeps closer to the sound of PS Eliot: moody, 90s-inspired rock backed by Keith Spencer and Swearin’ guitarist Kyle Gilbride on drums and bass. The full band means fleshed-out fuzzy lead guitars on “Coast to Coast”, its poppy hook almost masking its dark lyrics. Big distorted guitars and deep steady drums mark songs like “Misery over Dispute” and “Waiting”. There’s plenty of American Weekend‘s instrospection and minimalism to be found, though. “Blue Pt. II” is stripped down, Crutchfield and her sister Alison (of Swearin’) singing in harmony with deadpan vox. She’s still an open booking, musing on self-doubt versus self-reliance, transience versus permanence. “Peace and Quiet” ebbs and flows from moody, minimal verses to a sing-song chorus. “Swan Dive” tackles nostalgia, transience, indifference, regret — over the a minimal strum of an electric-guitar, the picking at a chirpy riff and the double-time tapping of a muted drum. The album closes with a haunting acoustic-guitar reflection on “You’re Damaged,” possibly the best Waxahatchee song to date.

William Onyeabor is something of a mystery. Here’s what we do know: between the mid-‘70s and mid-‘80s, he released a string of albums that married the best of American funk with Nigerian pop, using a small army of now-vintage synthesizers to do it. Rediscovered by crate-diggers, his ticky-tacky songs sound prescient—and quite relevant—today, frequently straying into the 10-minute range and showing their African roots in their tendency to build intensity through repetition. Start with “Atomic Bomb” and “Fantastic Man” for a wildly funky ride.