[rating=8.00]
Over the last three decades, New York pioneers Living Colour have made a habit of defying convention, fusing unrelated genres, and blazing new trails for their unique brand of hard alternative music. Shade, the band’s first new album in eight years, continues that trend. Shade is a politically charged punch in the face – both thematically and sonically – that delivers an album’s worth of head-banging gravitas while reveling in the more soulful side of its blues and funk roots.
Shade has a much stronger blues influence than previous Living Colour albums, especially on “Who’s That” and the Robert Johnson cover “Preachin’ Blues.” Blues played Living Colour-style, of course, isn’t your typical blues. Innovative guitarist Vernon Reid powers through the blues riffs with a snarling attitude that matches Corey Glover’s vocal swagger.
From the opening riff of “Freedom of Expression (F.O.X.),” Living Colour tears through Shade with a righteous anger, with brutal head-banging riffs that mirror Glover’s indignation, singing of social justice, protest, and perseverance. “No left, no right, no middle, no divide,” Glover sings, acting as peacemaker in an increasingly divided society. “No black, no white, just wrong or right.”
A cover of Notorious B.I.G.’s “Who Shot Ya” begins with a news report stating that “gun violence is the leading cause of death for black men under the age of 35.” Singing with a hip-hop cadence over a deep, menacing guitar growl, Glover describes crime scenes (“electrical tape around your daughter”) and the constant threat of violence for those growing up in inner cities. “We’re living like we’re programmed, like TV’s our reality,” Glover sings in “Program,” an up-tempo diatribe against media-influenced perception and herd mentality.
Fusing funk, R&B, soul, metal and occasional electronica into their heavy alternative sound, Living Colour is at its best when taking advantage of dynamic cross-genre juxtapositions. “Blak Out” contrasts the subtlety of its verses — with Reid playing a simple funk riff and Glover singing in a soulful croon – with its aggressive choruses, Glover screaming over Reid’s power chord assault. Conversely, “Glass Teeth” thrives on a fast rock chorus that jarringly transitions into a slower, heavier pre-chorus before giving way to a soulful sing-along chorus.
It is the epitome of what makes Living Colour great. It shouldn’t work, but it does. A voice as soulful as Glover’s shouldn’t go with guitar as heavy as Reid’s, but it does. Reid’s string-shredding guitar solos shouldn’t go along with an R&B rhythm, but they do. Rock music this heavy shouldn’t go well with blues and funk, but it does. An album that sounds this angry and politically charged shouldn’t sound hopeful and uniting, but it does. Twenty-nine years after its debut album, Living Colour has released an album that is as relevant and inspired as anything they have done.
