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EP Watch: Breezy – Tragic Mulatto

The moment you read or hear the title of this record is the same moment you come to realise that the artist behind it means to leave her mark. Unyielding and yet playful, expressive with a reserve of ‘more to come’ and the duality that makes this record most powerful is the link between the present and the predecessor. The Tragic Mulatto EP offers an indelible insight into Breezy, who helms her debut EP with majesty and touches of madness.   The first voice you truly bear witness to on this record is Nina Simone. She is waxing on the definition of freedom in her low lyrical tones while Breezy’s mood-setting melodies hum a unison of identification. The present and predecessor. Enter ‘Low Power Mode’, an anthemic swell of a song, the refrain of which is a highlight of the entire EP. Backed by stark keys and a simple but...

“Rock Pools” – Craig Teatime

As a child I searched rock pools left aside by the tide, tried to redraw picture books in real life, from the shelf I could reach up to, which divided to a full page double spread of a watercolor a child painted, better than I could draw. The escapades of an Ann or a Barry if the book was Irish, or a Tom or Harry if they were English, telling the reader, still reading slow in big print of the bounty living in ecosystems out there where mum or dad might drive you if you’re good.   Though it was only a harbour in Dún Laoghaire, but still here where the pier sloped lay pools of warm water, held up to inspection in rocky palms, living with strands of electric green seaweed deathless in air, but filled foliage in the glassy water there, and held tight to the water lips...

“Joan Is My Mother’s Name” – Craig Teatime

The night of our life, And the home that could be, It’s mostly just a room, With enough beds for a group of sleazy English lads, Or the accounting department catching a weekend off, To quench that age-old ambition Of a weekend bender abroad.   Ha-ha, see – It’s less of an apartment and more of a factory, Our Airbnb. I’ve heard of the Czech spring rising — Until the tanks closed in on those soft children And the Vltava was stripped of all its blue, Closing tight and killing any chance of life, The way that those who can close, do. Yet still for us, This is Prague in autumn, The music from the greasy bar rising up to the window sill that’s Broken and doesn’t close, Mind the shower’s cracked tray, Skin oils cold on bed clothes. The host knows, But what’s there to say – it was...

EP Watch: Kojey Radical – 97:Pure

Keep your ears peeled. Kojey Radical is staking his claim as one of the most formidable emcees in the UK. His EP release 97:Pure is more of a double single that acts as a wake-up call to those sleeping on his gruffness. Sitting at the intersection of hip-hop, grime and spoken word Kojey is carving out his space and what a space it is.   97   With the wave of 90s nostalgia still prominent and pervasive, Kojey kicks off this release with an anthem the tagline of which is ‘I’m bout it bout it like it’s 1997’. The song is a meandering celebration that moves from Kojey’s brazen call that ‘all young kings get beheaded’ a veiled reference to the Basquiat piece ‘Most Kings’ all the way to his hushed self-representation in the first verse. The musical motif that acts as a backbone to the song is a high...