The more time goes by, the more it seems like Dev Hynes might be the antidote to what Guy Debord called “the society of the spectacle”. As is documented in the fantastic recent book Songs in the Key of MP3, Hynes is representative of a type of modern musician whose relationships to mainstream and underground, art and pop, just don’t make sense in the traditional “star” framework of the post rock’n’roll era. He’s defined not by having the biggest shows or iconic moments, but by his connections, his ability to cover ground, his success best defined not as a “rise” to fame but an expansion through the cultural world.
That’s reflected in his music too. Nothing he does as Blood Orange shouts or demands your attention, let alone provides a TikTok friendly 30 second precis. It’s very often super subtle, even gentle, reflecting the many ways he’s questioned, deconstructed or undermined the performance of masculinity over the years. And that’s more true than ever on his fourth album in this persona, but umpteenth musical project overall. Early on, Blood Orange was notably about readdressing the best qualities of smooth 1980s music, but this is a massive opening up of that project, taking in all the avant-garde and otherwise out-there influences Hynes has encountered along his meandering way.
So it still sounds like Sade and quiet storm soul, but there’s also overt elements to the most fragile of indie-pop, to street soul, to the far left field of hip hop, and above all to that quiet precursor of the 21st century way of navigating culture, Arthur Russell. And it’s intense, too. If you let this album wash over you, it’s easy to enjoy it as a maturing of Hynes’s always listenable palette: eerie, vulnerable, sharply cerebral. But turn it up loud, and even by the second track “Thinking Clean”, the complexity of the drumming and the euphoria of the pianos show will elegantly command your senses.
Keep listening that closely and by the backstreet dark doorway beats of the centrepiece “Life” you’ll be drawn entirely in, and the dynamics of the finale “I Can Go” featuring Guatemalan cellist Mabe Fratti gliding around hanging Hammond tones, raw indie guitar and vocalist Mustafa will have you reeling. Listen again that closely and the insidiuous melodic hooks will have worked their magic. Once more and you're done for. Sometimes the things that don’t beg or demand you to pay attention are most worthy of your time.
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