3 out of 5

Label: Fader Label

Produced by: Justin Warfield

I feel like relevance has always been a struggle for Saul Williams.  Somewhat headlining (in my mind) the here-and-then-gone cultural awareness of poetry slams, Williams would eventually partner up with Rick Rubin for an album, swayed by Rubin’s big beat rock-posturing to set a particularly manly swagger to his narratives of oppression and rebellion.  Some of the stuff was undeniably grabbing, but sort of in the same embarrassing ways that that first Beastie Boys album can be: there was the artist, and there was the act, and while there are merits to both (whether that’s in the sense of care free fun of the Beasties, or the messages of Williams’), the discrepancies are too glaring to make the effect fully immersive.  Williams would hang on to some of Rick’s teachings for his followup, but it also felt a little more matured and natural, allowing that what you see vs. what you get gap to narrow.  The pendulum would swing back towards presentation for the Trent Reznor produced Niggy Tardust, but guided by the NiN maestro who knows how to fully mask oneself in their music, Williams could go full-on character with the album, definitely making for the most confident, and rip-roaringly impactful disc yet.

A couple of albums later and we find Williams partnering with the genre wishy-washy Justin Warfield, who brings a similar strength as Reznor – in that the music on the album, Martyr Loser King, has its own identity – but it’s not quite as in sync with the singer / rapper as part of the overall package.  Williams still goes for the concept-album approach, though, swirling around the story of a hacker doing an Edward Snowden kinda thing, but here’s where the relevance come kicking back around: Saul’s words only really landed when he was fully hidden behind the album.  Other times he comes across as needing to prove something, or somewhat faux-insecure – which is ironic, given the struggle for individuality that’s the theme of a parts of his work.  The tech talk here, and casting his societal rants against the tired canvas of tweets and followers, felt woefully outdated as soon as it was spoken aloud, and the rich electronica-laced beats of the music outpaces the story.  This also ends up seeping in to how any individual composition comes across, as many tracks cut out just as they feel like they’re getting started, subject to something else – perhaps the album’s story; perhaps Williams’ attentiveness – beyond the music.  Setting most of this aside and trying to process the words as another instrumental layer, we again have some really rich, interesting tracks full of clicks and beats and keys, and though I might not think the words are all that great, Saul’s pace and range work well with the rest of the sounds.

It is, perhaps, the first Saul Williams disc I’d listen to for just the music.  But since there is an attempted story here, I can’t really rate the album on its instrumental merits alone.