Shunda K
The Most Wanted
You could easily argue that technical proficiency is becoming more and more irrelevant when it comes to achieving chart-topping emcee status these days. Scan the local urban stations for any length of time and you realize that cadence, enunciation and speed are still valued in the hip-hop world, but not nearly as much as the almighty hook or the syrupy-sweet production or the replay value of a track.
However, if chart success were based purely on technical ability, Tampa-based Yo Majesty alumna Shunda K would no doubt be peering down at us from a mountain of crisp dollar bills. Her debut solo LP, The Most Wanted, is obviously the work of a very competent artist.
Shunda K is animated, unbridled and a lyrical force who doesn't fuck around, delivering her verbal gymnastics at breakneck speed over an assortment of diverse, textured and frankly bangin' club beats, and tackling subjects ranging from her own sexual prowess to spirituality and everything in between. She's fired up, and you can hear it in almost every word. Rapping is a two-part attack — what you say and how you say it — and Shunda K is a true entertainer in both these arenas.
If anything, K's delivery on The Most Wanted is almost too much of a good thing. Like many great emcees, she's established a signature style and it works for her, but sometimes it seems like she clings to it too hard. Tracks like "Oh Baby Girl" find her venturing into less aggressive territory, though never far enough that we forget about the in-your-face Shunda K lurking beneath the surface.
Overall, The Most Wanted is a great album with a very singular mood — the sort you'd spin to get pumped up for a night out, but maybe not so apropos for your day-to-day hustle and bustle. (Fanatic Records) —Andrew Silverstein
The Get Up Kids
There Are Rules
They haven't released a new album since 2004's Guilt Show, so it's easy to get excited about the latest LP from The Get Up Kids. The first few sonic moments of There Are Rules are enough to make you feel like you might be able to fit into your old jeans again.
Leadoff track "Tithe" features the jangly riffs and motorboat drumming that fans have come to know and love. Rob Pope's bass is as pulsating as ever, and hearing Jim Suptic echo frontman Matt Pryor on the chorus is as nostalgic as looking back on old yearbooks.
Pryor's voice is subtly different, however. Blame it on the nine albums of non-Get Up Kids material he put out over the past 10 years, but the high-pitched, emotive singer is long gone. Sure, he still sounds as impassioned as he did on Four Minute Mile, but his angst has been replaced by the quiet confidence of knowing that life will always go on, and you've got to grow up through it.
What's most surprising — and delightful — about these adult Get Up Kids is the way they've embraced a new sound. "Rally 'Round the Fool" boasts an ominous bass throbbing behind haunting guitar and synth lines. More than a few tracks find the Kansas City band embracing its inner New Wave, and while the ringing power chords and fuzzy guitar on closing track "Rememorable" find the Kids veering closer to their old sound, they still sound best when they flip the script. Like in "The Widow Paris," where the band's willingness to use silence and crashing, distorted chords to create tension proves that getting old doesn't have to mean getting stale. If There Are Rules proves anything, it's that there actually aren't any — and that the kids are more than alright, after all. (Quality Hill Records) —Ramon Roa
The Get Up Kids play State Theatre on Fri., Feb. 25.
Social Distortion
Hard Times and Nursery Rhymes
Social Distortion, the god-like, greaser-billy-punk outfit from California, is back with their first new album in seven years, and as anyone who's given them a cursory listen knows, the band is great. Not just in subjective terms. They're so technically gifted that they can play solid hooks and impressive riffs even after an Ambien and Johnny Walker cocktail.
That's where our big "but" comes in. It's a solid effort, but … eh, what can I say? I was mostly underwhelmed. There are tunes on Hard Times and Nursery Rhymes that bend over backward to be honky-tonk macho and blue-collar friendly, a vibe more fitting for a Georgia Satellites album — not that there's anything wrong with that. But I like the band's more honest, heartbroken punk rock melodies, the catchy anthems in tunes like "Ball and Chain" and not generic crowd-pleasing lyrics about "tattooed hearts and black hair."
Two stand-out tunes deliver the band's heart and soul (and recall stellar performances at Jannus a couple of months back). The epic power balladry of "Bakersfield" and the Hank Williams cover "Alone and Forsaken" possess the bittersweet, spilling-guts glory I've grown to love in frontman Mike Ness, and less of the fat Elvis version that seems to be all over this record. (Epitaph Records) —Julie Garisto
This article appears in Feb 17-23, 2011.