Review Summary: Sometimes you just need to chill
There are times when the weather is just
perfect.
The sky's blue, the sun is shining but it's not too hot, and hawthorn aromas tickle the tip of your nose. In such cases, some albums come to my mind to match the weather: Clever Girl's
No Drum and Bass in the Jazz Room and its pristine innocence, or The Flaming Lips'
Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robot and the sweet haziness it puts me in. Yet, when I want to have a good time with mates in a Brussels park, no record can match Swing's
Marabout. The Belgian homie started his rap career with Brussels group L'Or Du Commun, as well as the backer of one of the most-streamed Belgian artists, Romeo Elvis. Swing was already showing his soothing and conscious persona, but you know nobody takes you seriously until you release your first solo record these days. You’ve got to make your first record a statement.
The declaration here seems pretty simple at first sight. Although the dude was already smooth, he can now hope to claim the title of "Chillest Belgian Bro”. The first beats immediately set the tone: "Richesse" warmly unfolds itself into a convoluted and multi-layered tune, while second track "Corbeaux" employs darker tones but similarly builds itself upon a complex and expansive sound palette. Later in the record, G-Funk is used as an ode to musical highness in "Planer", and the head is bopping as the beats' richness are only matched by their chillness. The duality brought by said affluence and chillness also translates to Swing's flow, balancing the beat by fluctuating between hard-hitting bars and smooth singing strains. He often displays a multiplicity of vocal timbres throughout a single song, proving his versatility and confidence in his talents. It's with these evolving voices and tones that Swing shows his love for nuances, each moment being different from the next as the beat and the flow move at their own pace. Likewise, lyrics are rich, multiplying multi-syllabics and tackling the kind of issue a young rapper might experience, such as money problems or legitimacy within the harsh competition inherent to the rap game. For example, "Mama" is a song dedicated to his mother, telling her the message all young people want to say to their mommy:
Don’t you worry mama, I’m fine. Elsewhere, he philosophizes about the meaning of life on "Cercle" with his typical candid approach: yes, there’s no meaning and we’re stuck in the loop of our own mistakes, but he decides to see life as
rhythmic and sweet, like bossa nova. This kind of attitude is now emblematic of Swing, delivering his stance with so much optimism and spirituality that even the darkest verses sound all but defeatist or pissed off.
It's not all panegyric though: "Cours de Danse" is the record's very own ugly duckling, its pogo-encouraging rhythm feeling out of place in the context of the album's mellowness. It does work well during concerts, but that's the entire problem: its function is to make dudes jump into one another, while the nine other tracks serve the purpose of smoothness. "Cours de Danse" is so out-of-place I must do the unthinkable: skip the track whenever I listen to the whole record. And boy, do I spend time with this record, especially when the leaves are green and the sky is blue. Although the newest Paysage d'Hiver rhythmed my past few days, all I want right now is contagious optimism and sweet tunes. I'll grab a pack of beer, gather some friends, hit the nearest park, and throw Swing's
Marabout.
