Send "Black Milk " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Pitchfork |
 Between his solo release Tronic, Fat Ray teamup The Set Up, and his production work on Elzhi's The Preface, Black Milk's 2008 made him look invincible. And you might note the potential tongue-in-cheek hubris in calling his follow-up Album of the Year and assume that he feels untouchable now. But the self-congratulatory name of his new release is deceptive. The year in question isn't the 2010 that the drop date places its contention in, though anyone who loved Tronic or hard-bumping, densely expressive hip hop in general wouldn't be off base in considering it as a candidate. The title is actually more closely connected to a different year: 2009, when Black Milk lost his close friend, Village's Baatin, and saw his manager HexMurda go through a life-threatening experience after a stroke left him comatose."'09, hardest year in my lifeline," he admits in leadoff track "365", and you can hear the evidence in this album. But it's not some morose attempt to dwell on a rough period-- it's more like the product of a deeply determined effort to persevere through it all. Some artists redouble their work efforts when they're confronted by trying times, as though hours spent over a notebook or an MPC is the one thing that'll keep them centered. And whether or not that's what pushed Black Milk to another solid album, it's clear he came out of his time in the studio with something more to him: an even tighter grasp on his production-auteur approach. That approach stretches out a bit more in ambition, even as the sonic imprint becomes more recognizably his. Album of the Year might be called his acid-soul record: "Gospel Psychedelic Rock" practically asks for that tag, but its Westbound-era Funkadelic allusions and heavy R&B mood are echoed throughout the album. And it's a logical progression from his previous work, whether placed up front (the metallic funk of "Keep Going"; "Distortion" and its reverbed, congealed-mercury wah-wah) or woven into beats that recall Tronic's digital pulses and the rich analog bass. In his work with straight-up samples, like when he reconstitutes Blackrock's garage-funk monster "Blackrock Yeah Yeah" for "Deadly Medley", he translates a dusty cratedigger discovery into one of his characteristic headknock beats while amplifying the strengths of the source material. And when he brings in live-band musicians to complete his compositions-- drummer Daru Jones and keyboard player AB chief amongst them-- it all snaps into a deep-breathing focus worthy of the latest Roots record....full text |
| Dustedmagazine |
| “The music on this album represents a moment in time since the last album I put it out… That was the main reason I named it Album of the Year.” This is how Curtis Cross, a.k.a. Black Milk, recently put the title of his third solo full-length in context. This isn’t [just] a stab at hip-hop album of the year, this is his album of the year — which is significant, because the guy has been knee-deep in beatmaking since 2008’s acclaimed Tronic. Working with Guilty Simpson and Sean Price, Milk produced the Random Axe full-length (due out late this year), then gave Melanie Rutherford a pile of beats for Searching for Sanity (also due soon). It almost seems like a better idea to wait for those albums to appear in full so we can put Album of the Year in better context as either a summation of his post-Tronic projects or as a snapshot of where he, exclusively, resided. Here is what I can tell you about this record without that context. It’s a baby crawl forward for Black Milk lyrically. The 27-year-old has, like mentor J Dilla, never been a mind-melting lyricist. His flow is steady, his bars rarely (if ever) switch mid-verse, and the stuff he’s saying is about what you’d expect if you heard either Tronic or Popular Demand before that: He’s had a busy year and he wants you to know about it; he’s just trying to preserve Dilla’s legacy; big ups to anyone with a 313 in their area code; here are a few of my pals to rap over some of my beats (AB, Royce da 5’9”, Elzhi, Melanie Rutherford, Monica Blaire, Danny Brown, Denaun Porter). There are some clever couplets scattered among this album, but it’s hardly Dimetapp-induced Weezy otherworldliness or dadaist K-the-I??? abstractions we’re talking about here. The thing is, then, what the thing has always been: Who cares about the rhymes all that much when have you heard these beats? It is rare to hear somebody taking somebody else’s (in this case, Dilla’s futuristic funk) template and manipulating it in such a way that it feels fresher, harder, longer, and on par with the original. Heresy maybe, but I don’t pretend Black Milk isn’t. These beats slay, and that includes the truncated snippets and reprises that tend to bookend songs here. The toned-down DJ Khalid airhorns and broken piano funk sample on first single “Deadly Medley” is one. Submerged wah-wah guitar licks color “Distortion” in another. Outer space synths on “Warning (Keep Bouncing)” are another. The tension with the sampled strings on “Black and Brown” complements Milk’s anxious delivery and Danny Brown’s patiently paced posturing is yet another example....full text |
| Sound-savvy |
| It’s probably too convenient to focus on Black Milk’s presumptuous record title — Album Of The Year— a name alone evoking a certain arrogance similar to Nas’ Hip Hop Is Dead, where anything less than stellar would be considered a flop and heaped onto the pile of confidence gone wrong. Unfortunately for Nas, his final product didn’t fulfill the title’s lofty expectations, but he could always lean on Illmatic for support. For Black Milk, however, Album Of The Year is just that: a hip-hop tour de force that sizzles, captivates, and catapults the producer/emcee to the forefront of the cultural pack. With this recording, running some 54 minutes, Milk proves that hip-hop can win without being minstrel, and rappers don’t need auto-tune or snap music to thrive. Album Of The Year is carried by its thumping cascade of drums, a description familiar to those affixed to the Black Milk bandwagon. Still, while Milk has already garnered a reputation for pulsating percussion, he bolstered his affinities on the new project, bringing in accomplished musicians to help shoulder the production load. Musically, this opus could stand without words. As a result, the Dilla incarnate transitions from a mere producer to a full-on maestro, gallantly fusing hip-hop with soul, psychedelic rock, electro jazz and Caribbean rhythms. Therefore, it becomes improper to tag Album Of The Year with the “hip-hop” label. While Milk participates in the standard 16-bar lyrical format, the influences are so vast that the album blurs the lines between genres and drives a deeper spike into the perception that hip-hop should live in a box. “Distortion,” with its fluid wa-wa guitar solo, is an autobiographical look into tragedy — a friend’s fight for survival, and a relative’s unsuccessful bout with cancer. The Latin-influenced “Round Of Applause” is a stance against disrespect and an appreciation for progress in an unstable music industry, in which even more noteworthy artists struggle to sell records. “Couple camera shots, one or two stalkers/Several albums hot, couple red carpets,” Milk raps. On the sincere “Closed Chapter,” Milk concocts a triumphant, rock-n-roll soundtrack over which the Detroit native reflects on his humble beginnings, the deaths of Dilla and Proof, and the professional road that lies ahead: “Almost where I wanna be, but I know I’m not far/On this elevator, tryna make it to the top floor.” Black Milk will undoubtedly encounter criticism in the coming months, as critics and listeners try to process such supercilious actions. “I mean, album of the year, can it really be that good?” Absolutely. All told, Milk’s latest project is an instant classic and a breath of fresh air in a cluttered musical landscape. While Black Milk has not yet ascended to the top floor, Album Of The Year is assurance that he won’t have to take the stairs....full text |
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