Bilal wasn't idle during the period that separated
A Love Surreal and
In Another Life. Those 28 months, the shortest between-albums span of his career, involved a stack of secondary discography entries -- illuminating spots on releases by
Robert Glasper,
Kimbra,
Otis Brown III, and
Kendrick Lamar, among other artists. At some point, he was placed in the path of
Adrian Younge, supreme architect and creator of vintage-modern psychedelic soul and dirty hip-hop. A scholarly producer and composer who performs most of the instrumentation heard here,
Younge arrived in 2009 with the Black Dynamite score. He then recorded fine-to-exceptional full-lengths with his band Venice Dawn,
Ghostface Killah,
the Delfonics' William Hart, and
Souls of Mischief. Casual listeners might know him through
Jay-Z's "Picasso Baby," which sampled "Sirens" off Something About April. The original, an instrumental, is referenced again on
In Another Life's first song, and has its star-crossed terror quality intensified through eerie touches of Fender Rhodes and Mellotron from
Ali Shaheed Muhammad. It sets the tone for an album that can be viewed as both the closing installment in an
Adrian Younge soul trilogy, following Something About April and Adrian Younge Presents the Delfonics, and as
Bilal's most stimulating work. Aside from "Pleasure Toy," a bumping production featuring
Big K.R.I.T. that evokes "Sexual Healing" revamped by post-disco R&B boss
Nick Martinelli,
Younge sticks to his late-'60s/early-'70s reference frame, once again crafting his backdrops with golden ears for detail and a crate-digger's mentality. Compared to the Venice Dawn and
Delfonics efforts, this is a little less shadowy and more muscular. Its suspenseful and feverish qualities drop only for "Open Up the Door," a breather that conveys perseverance and contentment, and "Bury Me Next to You," which is still rather wrenching.
Bilal continues to be one of the most dynamic and progressive vocalists in contemporary music. Actually, there's him, and then there's everyone else. He's a livewire, capable of instant swings from carnal elation to psychological misery, yet none of it seems manufactured. In "Lunatic," where a sinister rhythm pushes and prods, it sounds as if
Prince and
Bad Brains'
H.R. are being exorcized from the vocalist's howling body. Within the careening stop-start "Money Over Love," which incorporates an urgent verse from
Lamar,
Bilal's narrative falsetto briefly recalls that of
Curtis Mayfield, but
Mayfield's pipes never pushed out anything like the snarling "I rock that box on credit." Fleeting likenesses notwithstanding,
Bilal is a one-off, and his hip-hop soul summit with
Younge, tucked inside the art of Angelbert Metoyer, is one for the ages. ~ Andy Kellman