Camae Ayewas rapidly expanding discography encompasses blistering hardcore punk (Moor Jewelry), industrial hip-hop (Zonals Wrecked), liberation-minded free jazz (Irreversible Entanglements, the stage production Circuit City), and so much more, demonstrating her ability to adapt her fearless, revolutionary poetry to several genres and forms of media. Black Encyclopedia of the Air is her debut release for Anti-, a longstanding indie label with a track record of work with legacy artists like Mavis Staples and Solomon Burke, and it takes her music in a somewhat more accessible direction while retaining the creativity and fervor of the rest of her work. Considerably less noisy than previous Moor Mother releases like her 2016 breakthrough Fetish Bones, the album flows through slippery jazz rhythms, mellow R&B vibes, and meditative ambient textures, with Ayewas lyrics remaining forceful even as shes delivering them in a softer register. She and her collaborators frequently transform their voices with pitch-shifting effects, adding a surreal dimension to the combination of deceptively calm music and intense lyrical themes. Race Function Limited has a fractured, footwork-ish beat and cool, shade-like ambient pads, and starts off with a verse by British emcee Brother May about government disinformation and the spread of coronavirus before Ayewa describes being born from the guts of slavery yet remains confident and defiant, assuring I wont go away. Shekere is a languid jazz-rap tune with a sorrowful violin sample and consoling guest vocals by Lojii, and Vera Hall is a similarly earth slow jam about deep South slavery and Black rebellion. Ayewas self-assured Water dont get wet like this hook anchors the slinky boom-bap of Rogue Waves, and Made a Circle is a poignant reflection on motherly love, with guest verses by Nappy Nina and Maassai as well as Orion Sun on the chorus. The most experimental tracks arrive at the end of the album, including the abstract drift of the YATTA-assisted Tarot and the bracing Zami, a throbbing, claustrophobic nightmare which nevertheless has a bit more breathing room than some of Moor Mothers earlier work. ~ Paul Simpson

Rovi