by Matty McPherson (@ghostplanetmatt)
Rarely is it acknowledged that the "bi-coastal" Philadelphia/California poet and all-around maverick, Camae Ayewa, spent her 2020 making a momentous mogul move. After returning to Don Giovanni in 2019 with her second proper Moor Mother full length, Analog Fluids Of Sonic Black Holes, she proceeded to enter "collab mode". All while making a case that she is America's No. 1 Punk.
First there was the free jazz and open-ended poetic quandaries of Irreversible Entanglements’ Who Sent You?; then Ayewa reconnected with Steven Montengero under their Moor Jewelry moniker for a post-hardcore shakedown, True Opera. This was quickly followed by a return to her early days of Bandcamp uploading, with near monthly surprise dispatches--Clepsydra, Offering (w/ Nicole Mitchell), Anthologia I (w/ Olof Melander), and Dial Up (w/ Yatta)--that ranged from righteous rage to claustrophobic noise lashes. By mid-summer, an Irreversible Entanglements live performance (released as a Moor Mother title), Circuit City, had also made its way to the service. Not one to just master punk, jazz, and noise, she closed the year balling with billy woods on their collaborative BRASS hip-hop album. Add 'em up and that's a whopping eight releases split between a DIY institution, a buzzy jazz label, and the finest rap imprint of the moment. America's No. 1 Punk feels too much of a misnomer; "Industrious Laureate," the apt moniker.
Now, when I imply that Ayewa has "been industrious," I mean less that "these are noisy albums" and more to denote that Ayewa is dialed into a personal commitment to exploring her ethos, whims, and quandaries to their furthest points. She has never shied away from this, just better refining the tone and tenacity of her poetry and sound. Moor Mother releases have been known to be "head down, blinders on" level serious listening. So much so that in March 2020, she actually went ahead and recorded material for two albums--her 2021 Anti- release, Black Encyclopedia of the Air, and another for the label supposedly soon to follow. Ayewa endearingly dubbed them "sell out" albums, attempts to smoothen the harsher ends of the Moor Mother sound (not ethos) to a wider audience. Kudos to her considerations for an algebra-level release--one that would immediately pull out college MDs, indie-label followers, and PR peeps, that weren't trolling Bandcamp over the past few years. However, I believe calculus level ideas AND beats should be a minimum, and that they do not have to sacrifice "fun".
It's a challenge that her collaborative work with DJ Haram (Zubeyda Muzeyyen) under the 700 Bliss moniker is finally surmounting. On their Hyperdub debut, Nothing to Declare, there's enough gusto and finesse for anyone to latch onto and jump forth from. Need to be sold in 73 seconds? Check the blissful surprise, “Easyjet,” a skit acting as a focal point at the midpoint of the album. Here, Moor Mother puts on another voice and plays a troll throwing piss-takes one after another at 700 Bliss; “(I can confirm that) the 700 Spa tape was not very "spa”: their new album title is too pretentious; Moor Mother is too "BLEH BLEH BLEH BLEH'' growly, and DJ Haram's beats are too ‘boop ba da boop da boop bah bah’". And yet even as DJ Haram dons her best "yass valley grrl" buffering Moor Mother's parody of blatantly bad faith rym clowns ("is this even music?!"), they sharpen their knives further. No, this shit ain't getting better and if we’re gonna talk about the end of the world, could you really ask for a better unit?
Moor Mother's collaborators aren't just naturally talented middle-eastern beatmakers. DJ Haram is though, further sharpening her skill set since her 2019 Hyperdub 12", itself a vital dispatch from her intuitive second-moving on the New Jersey club sound. Her background coming from the Discwoman collective, zine-making, and community party organizing itself is a parallel and intersection, not a foil, to Ayewa's own past in similar endeavors. The duo have been collaborating for over half a decade. 2018's Spa 700 "proof of concept" tape offered a general ethos and argument for why DJ Haram is Moor Mother's platonic partner. The communal angle took emphasis, as the duo found a kindred, playful spirit.
Moor Mother releases are time-travel ready. Sonically and lyrically they cull from grim pasts and omnipresent, metastasized futures; jazzy and noisy debris in the vaccum. Nothing to Declare is the rare moment that really sees her grounded to the present, in step with both her own and Haram's sound of this moment. DJ Haram makes cymbals jab, noise bludgeon with the impact of a sledgehammer, and pitch shifts skid with no tomorrow. It’s fantastic to hear the duo in such immaculate lockstep. It must rub off in the sheer playfulness of this affair, as Moor Mother puts on an accent that twists her voice into cuckoo-cuckoo clock twanged variations. The opening/title track practically skirts, hoots, and hollers within the first thirty seconds, laying no bars back in its shit talking, setting a brutal pace to follow. She does this again to great effect on the aforementioned skit, but more importantly on "Sixteen," adding a level of brevity to what ultimately amounts to a blunt admission of a need for safe spaces and found families.
Even when her voice reaches a gaseous state, like on “Anthology,” the pace is still frantic. Caterwauling techno and suspenseful synths collide as Moor Mother, globetrotting and name dropping, lays down straight facts about "the matriarch of black dance," Katherine Dunham, and her "star spangled rhythms". It's a definitive career highlight, proof that Moor Mother's time travel ain't smoke and mirrors, but vivid tangible thought--the same kind of thoughtline that Digable Planets mined out with their crate digging, live instrumentation, and wry references on Blowout Comb.
It may come as a surprise to learn that a few of the tracks date back over half a decade to pre-Spa 700 days. A Foxy Digitalis breakdown offered brief, but deeply welcome breadcrumbs into the recording process. Beats from both Moor Mother and DJ Haram were practically salvaged on the spot or waited years for a verse to save them from stem hell. Many of the tracks do reflect this, based on vague or tipsy drum patterns, ambient noise, and quixotic synths. It can be absolutely flooring walls of distorted sound, or fleeting rhythmic drum and pitch shifted vocal patterns that ignite their own psychedelia. What is clear though is that these tracks are barely holding it together, just sort of collapsing as soon as they've said all they can. Listen to the way Moor Mother practically improvises an entire world of guerilla warfare and thievery on “Discipline”; you feel it all in real time. Lo-fi punk hip-hop for a k-hole techno club, more or less.
A lot of what makes these songs so vivid is the range of features, voices, and on the fritz sounds crashing through the mix. Lafawndah (who steals “Total Spies” btw), Orion Sun, Muqata'a, Alli Logout, M, Télllez, and Ase Manual all dial up various capacities. They arrive untethered from their own planes of existence. The addition of these features has the effect of making 700 Bliss balance even more sonic ends of the spectrum within these tracks. Orion Sun's feature on the bonkers club deconstruction “Nightflame” brings out a woozy soul delivery alongside declarations like "Bitch make room; I'm 102!'; Alli Logout makes a collect call from hell on the industrial implosion “Capitol,” reveling as a "motherfucking agitator," their own razor industrial delivery oozing blood; M Téllez flourishes within the (self-proclaimed) "ambient-noise-club-anthem" “More Victories,” making a speedy victory lap in the mix; even DJ Haram brilliantly kisses off haters on “No More Kings”. For everyone who shows up, they look to call the communal pit of 700 Bliss sanctuary, even if for a brief moment, and it gives back to them so admirably and willingly.
That Nothing to Declare succeeds not as an incredible batch of tracks AND a cohesive world building album-level statement is trickery unto itself. It is certain that these fourteen tracks and two sketches totaling just shy of 38 minutes finally crack the code that Moor Mother has long sought after: endlessly enjoyable, high wire tracks at the fringe of dance and hip-hop that are stories and histories unto themselves. All the while it's a cohesive sum-of-its-parts (did I even mention “Bless Grips”? Wow what a stunner!) release burning incredibly bright in the process. Spin it at 4am or 4pm; just pump up the bass, treble, and give edge to the high frequency for maximum impact. “100% moodboard-ready.”