I ignored R&B and soul music for much of my teens and early 20s. It either sounded too much like the gospel music from church or it was too close to hip-hop. With the former, I had convinced myself that gospel music outside of a church service was boring. With the latter, I told myself that it wasn’t “real” music because it wasn’t made with “real” musical instruments. I willfully ignored that mainstream rock music was actually created by white people blatantly copying the blues.
When I finally rejected my old biases and opinions, I quickly realized how transformative those two genres had been upon multiple decades of popular music. As my palate began to expand because I refused to let my tastes stagnate, I sought out experimental artists rooted in R&B and soul. I relished the music of people who willingly ignored old debates about genre to make authentic art on their terms. My critical ear gravitated toward musicians who operated from a core point-of-view while still pushing down boundaries.
So when Broken Land 2 by Kenneth Whalum hit my ears, it engaged all of my musical sensors.
Released on Secretly Canadian, this eight-song album bursts at the seams with creativity and attention to detail. This sparkling new-school R&B delivers powerful and profound confessional lyrics. Whalum possesses a sultry, smoky vocal tone in the middle register, but it’s his soaring falsetto that grabs your attention. Gorgeous music in the vein of Frank Ocean, Moses Sumney, and label mate serpentwithfeet, it abounds with purpose and passion.
T
he last name “Whalum” itself immediately set my memory to jumping. After some cursory research, I learned that his uncle was Kirk Whalum, a famous jazz saxophonist. I then remembered selling his Gospel According to Jazz albums when working in a Christian bookstore.
That heritage sits at the forefront of this entire project, as Kenneth Whalum’s tenor saxophone work is resplendent, dark, and aching. His lyrics provide late-night musings where questions and doubts about faith and physical longing receive their due.
On “All I Need,” a sonic cocoon wraps the listener with dexterous horn bleats and a snare that hits just behind the beat. “Party” serves as my favorite tune, as it conjures up the image of a dark club in the wee hours of the morning. Whalum croons to a young woman trying to make better decisions, “Get yourself together. Nobody’s gonna do it for you. You gotta make your party better.”
We arrive at our emotional nadir with “Weeping Eye.” The bleak line “Standing at your door unknown, Maybe you’re truly free, Free from the rain and my storm” is framed by rimshots and jazz piano chord progressions. “Constellation” brings the album to a thoughtful close, complete with brushed snare work and dream-pop guitar work circling this thought: “We know that danger’s near, but we don’t believe in fear.”
Broken Land 2 is a multi-generational work that marries vintage sensibilities to futuristic questing.
It’s Marvin, D’Angelo, and Janelle hanging out as they debate the layered nuances of their spiritual childhoods and secular desires. Instead of wallowing in that inner turmoil and old ways of thinking, the songs pursue a fresh direction, a path forward into newness of life.
The album is tailor-made for people on both a musical and spiritual quest toward something better. It delivers a bounty of mid-tempo grooves and slowed-down meditations while resisting genre stereotypes. By rejecting the need to go for overt jams and bangers, Kenneth Whalum instead connects with listeners through delivery and skill.
The music possesses a delicate feel that hinges on a reserved and introspective ambiance. However, engaged seekers will find dense, detailed arrangements underneath that showcase a prodigious talent unafraid to face his fears.