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| Pitchfork |
 Gonjasufi's 2010 release A Sufi and a Killer succeeded largely on the strength of an engagingly odd presence: the simultaneously croaky and sweet voice of Sumach Valentine, which sent initiates scrambling to identify fellow travelers, from Captain Beefheart to George Clinton to John Fahey. It stood up as a strong example of psychedelic rock rewired for an audience more attuned to Madvillainy than The Madcap Laughs. But it still scanned a bit more like a shared vision than an individual voice: The album was just as much a revelation for the Gaslamp Killer, who helmed the bulk of the production and laid down his own mark with a sprawling slate of beats that complemented Valentine's vocalizations.When the album that introduces a unique vocalist to a newly expanded fanbase also happens to do the same for its equally distinct producer, you wonder how each will fare on his own. If last year's freebie 9th Inning EP was a catch-up session of self-created, unreleased older tracks meant to remind newer fans of his broader repertoire, MU.ZZ.LE scans like a means to transition from A Sufi and a Killer's multiple-identity psych into more personal territory. And it does this in a way that reinforces what made that previous album great. Gonjasufi and fellow San Diegan noise-break purveyor Psychopop have centered their production around a codeine-paced, heavy-headed swoon that still manages to bristle with an undercurrent of stress. Psychopop handles beats for four of the 10 cuts, and their half-speed wooziness is like the musical equivalent of the slow-motion running you might experience in an unsettling dream. The headswimming electric piano blues of "White Picket Fence" and the loping, pendulous guitar in "Feedin' Birds" set the pace, ethereal as it is, and get a surprising amount of pull from their downtempo floatiness. But Gonjasufi's own production is just as steeped in dubbed-out, crumbly atmospherics. The bass in "Venom" glows and throbs, peppered with a jingling percussion timbre halfway between a tambourine and a handful of change. "Blaksuit" sounds like a vintage funk 45 flipped to 33, its twangy loop pacing back and forth like a half-finished thought. And even when the snares pop, as they do on "Nikels and Dimes", they do so through a thick coating of resin and ash....full text |
| Guardian |
| Gonjasufi's brain thinks bomb-like: it makes him angry with himself, with his "life of sin"; furious with the greedy, and those who divide to rule; fearful of God; respectful of fate. It's not easy to pick this up from MU.ZZ.LE, because almost every word he utters is either heavily distorted or buried beneath prismatic dub-hop beats. Unlike his debut album, 2010's A Sufi and a Killer, a sprawling collaboration with LA producer Gaslamp Killer, MU.ZZ.LE is entirely Gonjasufi's own, and it shows in its unrelenting concentration. The 10 songs together last barely 25 minutes, and each one has been distilled to an essence. The atmosphere throughout is viscous, lethargic, but charged with electronic interference; beneath the buzzing and crackling are snatches of surprisingly gentle melody, romantic piano, the squealing laughter of a child. But it's Gonjasufi's voice that hypnotises: looping from a honeyed croon to a lead-heavy growl, it gives succour and pause for thought to those who find living uneasy....full text |
| Sputnikmusic |
| Gonjasufi (aka Sumach Ecks) has risen to the top in a considerably short time. Presenting us with his left-field entry album A Sufi and a Killer, Gonjasufi immediately found a sound that was all at once challenging and accessible. Splicing wispy, ethereal elements with his grimy vocals, Gonjasufi nestled into a cultural medium and exercised the dichotomy between restraint and release. Speaking of the title of his debut, Gonjasufi said, “The Sufi side of life has helped me with my killer side so I try not to attach myself to any label. There's a Sufi and a killer in everybody, man.” And that sentiment is apparent all throughout said album, specifically in the contrast between the more jaded, emotionally driven tracks (“She Gone”) and the happier moods set (“Klowds”). Choosing to produce his new album on his own (without the talents of LA producer Gaslamp Killer and Flying Lotus), MU.ZZ.LE takes a considerably different direction and focuses more on mood (on the surface, at least). Whereas A Sufi and a Killer's smoggy aesthetic, drugged-out ‘60s psychedelia, and hip-hop blend made it one of 2010’s most eclectic works, MU.ZZ.LE comes across as a lot rougher around the edges, focusing more on brooding synthesizers and lethargic vocals. Gonjasufi’s voice lacks the flair of previous releases and it’s buried under ambiance and electronics, but what he lacks in oomph he certainly makes up for with atmosphere. Here, Gonjasufi champions thick, treble-heavy beats and dials down the emotional impact of his voice, portraying himself as somewhat indifferent. Some might mistakenly think it’s lacking in passion, but Gonjasufi is harboring anger under this collage of different sounds. It’s easy to miss, given that most of the vocals here are veiled by everything happening around them, but Gonjasufi presents us with a social commentary about the grotesque nature of man, hones in on self-loathing, and ruminates (“The Blame”): “Children fucking blow up malls/Grown men fucking blow-up dolls/I’m not the perfect man, and I never claimed to be/ I’ve done some things in my time and even I’m ashmed of me”. One would be excused for initially writing MU.ZZ.LE off as an aimless mess (and it sort of is at points), but subsequent listens reveal neat little quirks, showing a more nuanced record than some will initially give it credit for. “White Picket Fence” is a laid-back lounge number whose atmosphere nearly evokes a sound similar to Pink Floyd (think Dark Side of the Moon), “Nickels and Dimes” opens with candor as children’s laughter can be heard faintly in the background, and “Blaksuit” is sort of nostalgic with its crisp audio sound, seeming as though it’s being spun on vinyl. The production value is exceptional on certain tracks, but elsewhere it fails to entice....full text |
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