Monday, February 1, 2010

Oy - First Box Then Walk


’s First Box Then Walk is the first record in a while to remind me, in such a dynamic and revelatory manner, that music is its own language. Glorifying the fancy-free frivolity of the Dadaists dissertations on absurdity, Joy Frempong’s full length debut effectively punches, plods and pows a presentation of her, all of her, her soul, and her roles as multi-instrumentalist, storyteller, agitator, experimenter, wanderer, sanctifier of the seemingly-silly, in a oh-yeah?-watch-this run through the sacred living room of genres hung like curtains, hip/hop, electronica, soul, avant-pop, even fuzzy glam rock and solemn folk, all get tossed into the washing machine, with a babbled freestyle vocal spew of sultry sways and invented verbiage, eventually setting the machine on fire halfway through the spin cycle, taking the clothes of various styles and sounds, (children’s toy instruments, synths, sequencers, clashing/buzzing samplers and drum machines and her own irrepressible voice) and running out into the world, talking about toilet witches and sex and snakes and bone bells and an accordion-led spaz-dance about building her own church. Strangely stunning. Weird yes, but refreshing.

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