Thanks to its Frankenstein structure, this album has a strange, off-kilter charm; everything is wrapped in elegant complexity, specially the guitar work, for which the artist has already been highly praised in the past.
Bob Ross was right. There are such things as happy accidents, and for the first time in my life, I have experienced one. When I came across Flanafi's self titled debut album, my first impression was that the cover art looked like it could belong to a ‘70s obscure prog rock album. So, with the intention of impressing my snobby prog-head friends and finally gain their acceptance, I approached it thusly.
Imagine my surprise as the first song started. At first, upon hearing the loose rhythm and the “oh, yeah” at the beginning of “Inner Urge”, I thought: Please, no. Not yet another young project that's trying to ride the slacker-rock-meets-neo-soul wave; we’ve heard enough copy(Thunder)cats already. But as the album progressed, Bob Ross’ good omen kicked in, and, awash in a haze of disjointed glory, it became clear that this LP was far from being an easily classifiable piece of work.
Yes, there are bits that sound like this, and bits that sound like that, but thanks to its Frankenstein structure, this album has a strange, off-kilter charm: it has math-rocky r&b guitars and angular flows but it also has a lot of groove; it is laced with a laid back lo-fi production and a youthful neo-soul touch without veering into trendy territory. Flanafi goes through the whole album with a happy go lucky attitude, but it is not, in any sense at all, sloppy; it sounds as if D'Angelo decided to never leave his house and produced Black Messiah directly from the comfort of his bed. Everything is wrapped in elegant complexity, specially the guitar work, for which Simón Martínez -mastermind behind Flanafi- has already been highly praised in the past.
The acclaim is well deserved, as Martínez has a pretty distinctive style, with a certain resemblance to Curtis Mayfield’s treatment of the instrument. It flows with ease, throwing complex figures in the middle of mellow passages, but their intricacy never ends up calling too much attention to itself. It is a discrete virtuosity, one that carries itself to the overall songwriting as well.
All the pieces on this LP share a common thread besides the production style (which remains similar throughout): they all have this weird flow to them, as if Martínez was coming up with every change as he was recording the songs. However, they do sound structured and well thought-out; they’re not just the result of stream-of-consciousness composing. “Inner Urges” circles around through its verses and choruses, but each time we come back to either one, we’re presented with something different, although it is not always obvious.
“Gonna Spend The Rest of My Days” and “Hunting” suffer from their overtly Thundercat feel -specially the former, since the latter eventually evolves into something of its own-, but it’s easy to oversee this flaw when those songs are crammed between the album’s strongest moments: the beautiful maze that is “Necessary Beams” with its jazzy guitars and breezy, distant voice; the wonderfully subdued, sitting-by-the-countryside feel of “Whistler”, the oneiric, fragile genius of “Give Your Kid a Weapon” (which features the best guitar and vocal work on the LP) and the almost tongue-in-cheek funk-metal sound of “Miles and Miles of Smiles”.
Prior to becoming Flanafi, Simón was one half of Pulgas, and it can be said that this is just an extension of that sound. Does this show a lack of progress? Not at all. This is just the first step towards a new path. Could this project benefit from better production? Totally. But, even if it would help the listener better appreciate all the embellishments that lie beneath the surface, its current rawness isn’t distracting nor it takes anything away from the songs. Flanafi has braggadocio as well as self awareness, and this balance keeps his compositions grounded. If he was trying to break new ground, he still has a long road ahead, but he already knows that. He’s just enjoying the scenery, just as our dear Bob Ross taught us.
