Native Sun by Blitz the Ambassador
LABEL: Embassy/Mvmnt

You could say this is not a rap album. Brooklyn-based, Ghanaian artist Blitz the Ambassador is not merely dabbling in different genres in order to reach a broader fanbase on Native Sun. Right away, from the simmering, smoky trumpet on “EN-Trance” which beckons us into the veldt of his fourth album’s impressive breadth, it’s clear to the listener that Blitz has a goal in mind. He wants to build bridges across the different musical styles with which he is likely inundated, be it funk, rap, afrobeat, soul, even rock (check the guitar solo on the title track, or the breakdown on the intro). The album almost works like an engrossing essay regarding pan-African and diasporic musical history. Different idioms interweave out of necessity, for it is only in this boiling melting pot that the Ambassador can fully conceptualize his ode to modern Africa.

“Painstakingly composed, the music on this record nevertheless maintains an improvisatory essence, a jumpy excitement in spite of how relaxed the aesthetic is.”

Rarely do I have the pleasure of hearing beats so vibrant and elastic. This isn’t production; it’s orchestration. Live-band hip-hop generally wanders too much to maintain my interest, or doesn’t develop at all, but on this record, Blitz offers a collection of tight, expansive songs that explore the grooves they develop. The music moves along with Blitz’s incisive rap, be it in English or his native tongue (sounds like Twi). And side note: even when he’s rapping at a breakneck pace, his voice cuts through and every word is intelligible. His style is markedly straightforward, eschewing complex metaphor for the raw vigor of the timbres of his voice and heart, not to mention his resounding, indelible flow. It’s obvious that Blitz values clarity, both of aesthetic and of intent.

As a bandleader, Blitz has at his disposal a cadre of excellent musicians, the Embassy Ensemble. Along with a quicksilver tongue, he’s almost got a Midas touch, compositionally — and he makes both appear effortless, organic. Painstakingly composed, the music on this record nevertheless maintains an improvisatory essence, a jumpy excitement in spite of how relaxed the aesthetic is. More importantly, the voluptuous beats are rarely overbearing or oversaturated, instead usually bolstering the lyrics. This musical Atlas seldom shrugs.

  Blitz the Ambassador - Dear Africa ft. Les Nubians by embassymvmt

Consider “Dear Africa,” a clear standout, composed as a letter to Africa, and the most conceptual song on the record. It starts with a slow, sauntering guitar-based beat, shifting to a faster, female-vocal-based bridge before launching into a quick, Mali-influenced backing beat for Blitz’s ambitious recitation of the capitals of Africa. As a composition, it’s pure euphony, and like many other parts of the album, the exuberant rap isn’t even the best part. In a genre focused on vocals, this could be a problem, but this song and the best on the record are exquisitely-crafted wholes, and it sounds like the most natural thing in the world.

The influence of African polyrhythm is pronounced, and not simply with respect to the propulsive music. Peep Blitz’s epiphanic verse on “Free your Mind,” blazing through the crevices of the breezy groove, manipulating the pocket. And besides being gruesome with respect to flow, Blitz insists that the unity of Africa is the only true means of the continent gaining its freedom and understanding its own worth. He slows the lyrical onslaught to make the message clear for us: “What ever they do, we do/Whatever they think, we think.” Having been deprived of its riches, Africa has come to mimic the West instead of regroup and reconnect. “Ain’t nobody gonna savin’ no African/ only the African could save himself.”


(ILLUSTRATION: Anna Lina-Balke)

I won’t mention anything regarding sexism in that lyric... but I will say that this song is a great example of one problem with the album: it’s only one verse surrounded by a lot of music, which begs the question of how well-weaved the rap is into the rest. Sometimes, though not often, it simply sounds like Blitz is struggling to throw different genres and time periods together, hoping that the force of his conceptual apparatus will drive the songs to succeed. No wonder that “Best I Can,” one of the least fusion-minded songs on the album, is excellent. It doesn’t try to be anything more than it is: a soulful hip-hop song with great lyrics.

“He has high conceptual aspirations, and as pretentious as that can be, I love to see it.”

Truly, Blitz is well-aware of his musical landscape, as well as of his political-aesthetic goal, but some could criticize him as being far too self-righteous. For example, he comes right out and says on the first track that he’s “putting Africa back on the map,” but what does this really mean? That he is making African-rooted music that will finally anoint the continent with international recognition? As it turns out, African music has been blowing up in the scene, especially this decade. People are beginning to pay attention to the endless quality output coming directly from Africa, so Blitz’s claim is somewhat stale, and the same goes for some of his raps, which portray an outdated vision of what a hip-hop persona can be.

As well, many of the references are somewhat heavy-handed. We pretty much know that Blitz draws inspiration from Fela, given his sound, as well as from Public Enemy, given the Chuck D cameo: do we really need it spelled out for us in a lyric? I mean, “bring back Dave Chappelle?” Why not leave that up to him? And for the record, he mispronounces Basquiat, though I would hope he’s doing it to maintain the rhyme scheme.

Consider some of the tired braggadocio on “Victory,” with the Funky Drummer rhythmic reference. Or the self-aggrandizing story of Blitz’s career on “Wahala.” Or some of the cheesy scratching throughout. None of these missteps are dealbreakers; I only wish Blitz would drop the boutique revolutionary schtick more often. And that’s not to say that Blitz is insincere: he really pours his heart out on some tracks, including the title track, and particularly on “Accra City Blues,” a perfectly-woven, brooding narrative about love lost. This is Blitz at his most vulnerable, the horns moaning and wailing along with his moody reminiscences. It’s gold!

Ultimately, I believe Blitz has every right to his inflated ego: he’s not kidding when he talks about his last album having gone top ten on iTunes without a deal. His ambition is clear, its force is felt. He has high conceptual aspirations, and as pretentious as that can be, I love to see it. I love eagerness to expand an aesthetic. His vision is so lucid that it propels the music forward, and has propelled his career forward. Even that on its own is commendable. Luckily, the music is awesome, too. Recommended.


REVIEWED BY MANUEL ABREU
MANUEL’S FAVORITE TRACKS: “Dear Africa” • “Accra City Blues” “Free your Mind”