Rating: 7/10
Dr. Dre's Detox. Kendrick Lamar and J Cole's collab tape. The Wu-Tang album heard solely by Martin Shkreli. This list marks just a few of the fabled projects that have tantalized hip-hop fans with nothing more than the sheer hope of their eventual creation or release. There's one hypothetical album however, that has arguably reigned supreme over just about every other anticipated release in the genre: André 3000's solo debut. From the moment he called it quits as the more colorful half of the legendary duo Outkast, the world has been waiting with bated breath — despite any confirmation on André's part — to hear what the hell a solo release from Cupid Valentino could possibly sound like. As the years have passed, André's status has gone from beloved to legendary, with him now being considered an obligatory inclusion on any G.O.A.T. list worth its salt and his features on projects like Blond and Donda keeping his hype wholly alive with a younger generation. Truly the only thing he was missing was that mystical solo album; the project that would finally put the nails in the coffin and cement him as the undisputable greatest MC to ever grace a mic. On November 14, André announced what fans had been so impatiently waiting to hear for over 20 years: André 3000's first ever solo album was finally going to be released... and it was going to be a 90 minutes of flute.
Reactions to this news were certainly mixed. In general, fans responded with a healthy dose of intrigue, expressing their support of André pursuing whatever creative avenue he saw fit. It certainly wasn't as if his flautism had come out of nowhere; for years he had been seen playing a flute in various public places, and he even showcased his chops as part of his role in the 2022 film Showing Up. For many people, however, the impending album was nothing short of a complete disappointment. Across all unofficial forms of discourse, various users dismissed the project before they'd even heard it, and many more held out hope that perhaps the entire promotional rollout was one big practical joke. Regardless of how people felt, New Blue Sun, the debut solo album from André 3000, arrived on November 17, complete with packaging that promised "no bars" whatsoever.
Despite being a usually enigmatic figure, André has spoken quite heavily on this album in the days following its release. In a recent interview with GQ, he was quoted saying, "...sometimes it feels inauthentic for me to rap because I don’t have anything to talk about in that way. I’m 48 years old. And not to say that age is a thing that dictates what you rap about, but in a way it does... What are you rapping about? ‘My eyesight is going bad.'" In one sense, it's a sentiment that speaks to exactly what has always made André such a fascinating and oftentimes otherworldly figure in music: his authentic lack of commerciality. Whether it's his free-flowing verses or his genie-inspired fashion; risk-taking has always been the man's bread and butter. On the other hand, however, his admonishment of hip-hop not being an "old-man's game" feels unfounded and hypocritical coming from someone who dropped one of the best verses of his career earlier this year on Killer Mike's "Scientists and Engineers."
3 Stacks has been similarly candid on the actual recording process for the album, which apparently consisted of him teaming up with LA jazz musician Carlos Niño for a series of improvisational sessions in which André and a multitude of studio musicians experimented with various sounds for extended periods of time. In many ways, André's role in the creative process seems to be much closer to that of a curator than anything else. These songs aren't created with the intention of showcasing the virtuosity of his flautism, they are meditative pieces that he just so happens to be a part of — perhaps as a conceptual leader — as just another player in the mix. For an album that's been called pretentious and self-indulgent by Twitter critics at large, it's an incredibly egoless approach that emphasizes the actual music more so than any individual involved in the creative process.
Now that we've heard it, let's discuss the sort of album that New Blue Sun actually is. The record consists of 8 tracks, ranging from 4-18 minutes in length, which combine electronic ambience with acoustic and archaic instrumentation. Considering that the majority of people tuning into this project were probably 20-something Kanye fans, it's exciting to think of the many horizons that will be broadened by hearing even a fraction of this record. On the other side of the coin, however, for anyone already familiar with ambient music or meditative albums, New Blue Sun is probably not going to leave much of a lasting impact. While multiple listens have given me a greater appreciation for some of the album's more understated strengths, I still find it difficult to distinguish much of a memorable identity for some of the music here. This by no means implies that the album is bad — I enjoyed it a great deal — but even by the standards of such formless music, there really isn't enough here that gives these songs a strong sense of identity that will last much longer than the hype of such an unprecedented release.
Make no mistake, however: New Blue Sun is far from purposeless. The world of album begins to unfurl itself on the opening track, "I Swear, I Really Wanted to Make a 'Rap Album' but This Is Literally the Way the Wind Blew Me This Time," a title that blatantly addresses his new lane while also emphasizing the record's conceptual and technical focus on "wind." The song begins with a wavering series of arpeggiating synth notes, undercut by acoustic whistles and distant percussion. This slowly dissolves into a far more languid movement, now guided by barely perceptible drones and the far-off pining of an unidentifiable woodwind. At about the halfway point, the song is suddenly bolstered by the first real appearance of the flute, cutting through the swaths of reverb and ambience for a quick flurry of notes before disappearing back into the mix. The last few minutes of the song gradually fade the soundscape into nothing but half-remembered melodies and barely audible splashes of noise. The track clocks in at close to 12 minutes, and while it's certainly reserved in its approach, it definitely makes a definitive statement that asserts exactly what the rest of this album is going to sound like.
The tracks on New Blue Sun are a continual conversation between the natural elements of music and the autonomous means through which these sounds are produced. As an instrument, the flute is one of the most receptive to the breathing of its player, which translates into a musical vessel that can sometimes feel deeply and utterly alive. It's this sense of life that André's playing imbues into the songs of this album, creating an interplay between the organic jabbering of his flute and the electronic elements surrounding it. In a song such as "That Night in Hawaii When I Turned into a Panther and Started Making These Low Register Purring Tones That I Couldn't Control ... Sh¥t Was Wild," (yes, the song titles on this one are absolutely insane) André's flute strikes an unsettling harmony with the rumbling bass tones of thumping percussion. His playing here truly comes across as a conversation, darting with the frenetic authenticity that only comes from true improvisation. The result is one of the more formless and unsettling songs on the album, and it captures a primal energy that really engrosses the listener for its entire runtime. (Also, fear not, the aforementioned "low register purring tones" do indeed make an appearance.)
While it does have the most memorable title of the already very memorable track-list, the song "The Slang Word P(*)ssy Rolls Off the Tongue with Far Better Ease Than the Proper Word Vagina. Do You Agree?" represents much of what I consider to be lukewarm and underbaked about the entire album. In the case of this particular song, its absurd length (14 minutes) is an undeniable hindrance, and the track never quite settles into any sort of substantial foothold to justify such a long runtime. The soundscape is certainly beautiful, as is the case for the rest of the album, but the song is actually deceptively formulaic. The recurring melodies in this track feel far less organic than those on "That Night in Hawaii..." and this sheen of studio recorded artificiality doesn't mesh well with the album's overall theme. On each and every re-listen, I found "The Slang Word P(*)ssy..." to be a difficult song to give any sort of meaningful focus to, and it unfortunately embodies what I consider to be the pitfalls of New Blue Sun's freeflowing production.
This lack of character is thankfully not the norm for the rest of the songs on the album. Just take a look at "BuyPoloDisorder's Daughter Wears a 3000® Button Down Embroidered," which seamlessly blends electronic components with the acoustic elements of flute. The shimmering synths here buzz with effervescent melodies and are far better suited to match André's improvised playing. Here, the flute takes on the role of something akin to percussion, playing a simple loop that grounds the rest of the song's sonic excursions in a consistent rhythm. The percarious balance gives the song an electric sense of energy, wherein the pendulum constantly swings from electronic flourishes that overtake the mix to moments of near silence that allow the flute to take center stage. This is what New Blue Sun at its best sounds like, and while I'm certainly thankful that such a song exists, I'm admittedly disappointed that the rest of the album isn't always able to reach this benchmark.
"Ants To You, Gods To Who?" marks one of the most unabashedly gorgeous moments on the record, fully indulging in a shimmering collage that knows how otherworldly it sounds. The closing track, "Dreams Once Buried Beneath the Dungeon Floor Slowly Sprout into Undying Gardens," not only earns its gargantuan runtime, but it also holds the most resonant and directly emotional music of the entire album. Mournful guitar notes carry the down a dirge-like river of synths and chimes, as well as the obligatory twittering of distant woodwinds. It's a meditative experience that steadily builds to an understated but entirely fulfilling catharsis, finishing the album on a dramatic monologue from André's flute set against a cinematic backdrop of synths.
When all's said and done, New Blue Sun will probably be best remembered for the unprecedented nature of its release. While the album certainly lacks that indescribable X Factor that would carry it into the annals of music history, it's still a beautiful listen that is absolutely worthy of your time and attention. I can't promise it's something that you will have the urge to revisit anytime in the future, but it's still a journey everyone should take the time to experience. More than anything, however, New Blue Sun deserves recognition for its sheer existence. Regardless of the music within, the release and general acceptance of this album is a powerful statement that speaks to far more than the scope of these songs. For years, success in hip-hop has been a double-edged sword; oftentimes trapping artists within the confines of however the music industry thinks the genre should operate. While many rappers have done their best to break away from these labels and exist as artists with free reign over their sound, both fans and critics alike have been quick to clamor for their return to what they know best. While the actual music of New Blue Sun may not have left a significant impact on me and my life, the power of its release certainly has. Thank God for André 3000, and thank God for the doors his winds have blown open.
Favorite Tracks: I Swear, I Really Wanted to Make a 'Rap' Album but This Is Literally the Way the Wind Blew Me This Time; BuyPoloDisorder's Daughter Wears a 3000® Button Down Embroidered; Ninety Three 'Til Infinity and Beyoncé; Dreams Once Buried Beneath the Dungeon Floor Slowly Sprout into Undying Gardens
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