The Singles Jukebox

Another return for the man best forgotten as having once been part of Test Icicles.

[Video][Website]
[5.86]Julian Axelrod: Even if you’ve seen Blood Orange live before, you have to see them next time they come to town. Dev Hynes can be one of the most engrossing and impenetrable artists of our generation, but seeing him live reminds you of a few things. First off, Hynes is a low-key guitar virtuoso. He can shred like a motherfucker when the mood strikes, but he’s equally adept at unspooling long, languid riffs like the centerpiece of “Charcoal Baby,” the kind that wrap themselves around your brain and never let go. Second, Blood Orange is a one-man project that celebrates community and collaboration. “Charcoal Baby” feels like the musical equivalent of the potluck depicted in its video, with flutes and saxophones and sunrise synths that mingle and intertwine like long-lost cousins on the Fourth of July. But most of all, hearing Hynes off the record — no embellishments, no narratives, no spoken-word interludes — reminds you how powerful his hymns of hope can be when he’s at his peak. I heard “Charcoal Baby” for the first time when I saw Blood Orange last month, and it instantly sounded like a classic. Everyone in the crowd just looked at each other, unable to sing along but feeling like we’d heard it a million times before. I feel lucky that I got to experience this song in a live setting, but I feel even luckier that it lives on in recorded form, something I can return to whenever I need a reminder that I’m lucky to be alive.
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Alfred Soto: Snappin’ strings, slipping between the backup singers, keeping out of the synths’ way, Blood Orange has joined the band. He sings pretty nothings prettily.
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Ian Mathers: But really, is there any form of joy that isn’t complex?
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Thomas Inskeep: Sounds like a noodle-ier version of Raphael Saadiq’s solo work. Which isn’t a compliment, because I don’t care for most of Saadiq’s solo work.
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Edward Okulicz: It feels horrible to say this about something so skilfully put together, but I don’t like any of the individual pieces it’s been put together from and I find it ponderous and rather grating.
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Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The riff at the core of “Charcoal Baby” is a haunting, ramshackle thing. From the stop-start intro onwards, it sounds always at the edge of collapse, of folding in on itself. Even as Dev Hynes adds on his customary layers of female backing vocals, synths, and pianos (as well as more unexpected flutes and police sirens), the drama of “Charcoal Baby” is in that lonely duet between Hynes himself and his guitar. It’s a compelling interplay, augmenting a barebones lyric full of arresting images of black charcoal, swans, and queens.
[7]

Vikram Joseph: The best Blood Orange songs (and there are many) have a certain duality to them; breezy and lush enough that they could be played in your local cafe without causing anyone to spill their flat white, but suffused with a simmering intensity and emotional volatility that make them feel truly vital. “Charcoal Baby” sounds extremely pretty, but given that it’s an exploration of race and identity, feels disappointingly flat. There’s some lovely jazz guitar and pristine, distinctive harmonies and progressions, but it lacks the seething chaos of, say, “Uncle A.C.E.”, or the emotional heft of “Hands Up” or “Augustine”, all of which resonated so much stronger with me about the peaks and troughs of otherness than this does.
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