CD Roundup: Johnny Cash, Bouncer Fighter and Toki Wright

Toki Wright
ALBUM: Blackmale EP
LABEL: Rhymesayers

Local emcee Toki Wright has been playing sidekick to Rhymesayers superheroes for some time now, but the 2009 release of his debut album “A Different Mirror” showed that Wright is ready to go it alone. It’s been nine months since the album dropped and Wright has kept busy by touring the country, releasing music videos and working on the “BlackMale” EP. The EP is now available as a free download with optional donations going directly to Haiti earthquake relief.
On the musical front, “BlackMale” provides a strangely seductive contrast. Wright picks his samples from a toy box of soul and R&B obscurities and overturns their mellow vibe with a hard vocal delivery. Taking on this tricky juxtaposition of moods highlights Wright’s determination, a quality that’s more than apparent in his lyrics.
In his own words, “BlackMale” is an “interpretation on African-American manhood,” an effort to reflect on a personal experience that’s inextricably linked to Minneapolis living. There are the familiar tales, like that of “Barber Shop” and the communal aspect of these haircut havens, but the EP also veers into less-worn territory. On “The Soul (Go There),” Wright ponders fatherhood, while “Stealing It” finds Wright struggling with issues of identity and its uncertainty.
Regardless of subject matter, one motif habitually creeps up in Wright’s music: a relentless optimism that’s downright infectious. “I could have been a whole lot of what I’m not/ So I’m-a keep rising to the top,” he says on “Time Zones ,” counting his blessings and deciding to pay it forward. Aside from being a stud wordsmith, Wright is also heavily involved in community activism, and his outlook on the matter pervades his lyrics.
The EP ends up being both contemplation and clarion call as Wright pushes himself and his listeners: “We gotta do a lot of searchin’ and a lot of workin’/ I wanna show my city/ I wanna show my brothers/ I wanna show myself.”
4/5 Stars

Bouncer Fighter
ALBUM: Satirical Spirituals
LABEL: Anti-civ

It’s hard to come up with a succinct description of Bouncer Fighter; they just throw too many genres into the metaphorical music blender. The resulting cocktail is both peculiar and charming — an unnatural blend of prog-rock, heavy metal, punk and country that goes down smooth if you’re into amalgamated shredding, but tastes like bleach if cacophony isn’t your bag.
“Satirical Spirituals,” Bouncer Fighter’s debut LP, opens with “Smoking Drugs with Jesus,” a blasphemous little number that’s as intricate as it is sonically jarring. The title suggests that there’s comedy to follow, but as soon as the dual guitars begin jangling down their untamed lines we understand that Bouncer Fighter mean business (at least as much as they can manage). Lead singer Caleb Pease belts out his lyrics in a fevered, double-tracked howl that ends up sounding more sinister that it actually is. After all, doing drugs with Jesus would undoubtedly be a euphoric experience.
The dark and dirty stuff kicks in with “Corpses on the Wall,” a macabre track complete with a B-horror organ and a distorted saxophone to destroy what’s left of the eardrum. Pease continues with the moaning vocals but adds a dash of theatricality, rendering the doom and gloom inexplicably entrancing.
The album is not without its softer side; “Pillow in a Coffin” provides a nice contrast to the ruckus that precedes it, displaying just how versatile Bouncer Fighter can be. Pinging piano keys dance on top of acoustic guitar plucks as Pease laments his misfortunes and the day when his “whole world went soft like a pillow in a coffin.” One has to imagine that’s pretty soft.
“Satirical Spirituals” shows why Bouncer Fighter gets both praise and scorn in local circles. There’s an unquestionable technical proficiency behind their ballads, but the lack of restraint may divide fans down the line.
3.5/5 Stars

Johnny Cash
ALBUM: American VI: Ain’t No Grave
LABEL: American Recordings

It’s been nearly seven years since The Man in Black finally rode off into the sunset, taking with him his deified machismo and that golden wolverine purr. His death could have signaled the end of new releases, but Rick Rubin and company have decided to put out the remaining American Recordings, extending Johnny Cash’s legacy yet again. The (allegedly) final American album, “American VI: Ain’t No Grave,” comes out today, haunting listeners with all of Cash’s faded glory.
It’s always a little unsettling hearing posthumous releases, whether it’s Nirvana’s “You Know You’re Right” or any of Tupac’ s nine thousand albums. “American VI” is equally unnerving, but in a poetic vein made all the more potent by Cash’s withered vocals. The star could bring gravitas to a grocery list.
The opening track, “Ain’t No Grave, “ comes in with ominous acoustic guitars and shadowed overtones, setting a tempestuous stage before Johnny comes in to growl. “There ain’t no grave/can hold my body down,” he says from the great beyond, a statement as eerie as it is prophetic. The Claude Ely cover ends up sounding sublime, not just from current context, but because it shows that a sense of optimism remained in Cash’s final days.
Other ultra-poignant covers include Porter Wagoner’s “Satisfied Mind ,” which finds Johnny contently crooning “There’s one thing for certain when it comes my time/ I’ll leave this old world with a satisfied mind,” and Hank Snow’s “I Don’t Hurt Anymore,” a crackling, strained love song that finds new meaning with Cash’s death.
“American VI” closes with “Aloha Oe, “ Queen Lili’uokalani’s most famous song. It’s bizarre hearing Cash sing a Hawaiian ballad, but as the album closes, the final line of “Until We Meet Again” becomes profoundly moving. “Aloha Oe” is ultimately the perfect goodbye to one of America’s greatest cultural icons.
4/5 Stars