Gonjasufi
A Sufi And A Killer

Produced by Flying Lotus, Gaslamp Killer, and Mainframe, surrounded by a nice little cloud of hype, the debut of Gonjasufi (for friends, Sumach Valentine) reached us about a month ago. The curious little fellow, a sort of hallucinatory cross between Horace Andy, Doctor Gonzo from "Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas," and Mahatma Gandhi, had already made a name for himself with excellent scattered works here and there (personally noteworthy is the collaboration with Flying Lotus on "Testament," from his latest album "L.A."), and this year marks his first official release on "Warp."

First of all, credit is due to the work of the three producers: the album sounds incredibly dusty, hallucinatory, psychedelic, and disjointed, reminiscent of the non-glossy cinema of yesteryear, all the visual and sound harshness of analog life, those poor-quality photomontages, the all-VHS video stores. The nostalgia operation is a step away, but fortunately the little fellow is capable enough to subdue all the clichés of the case to his histrionic vocality that easily shifts to nu-jazz zapping, '60s psychedelia, and 100% Bollywood sounds.

The idea of a retro-flavored pastiche might ensnare many, and indeed the most frequent criticism of this album is that it is disjointed, not very organic, akin to that kind of demo compilation that was "Nearly God," the second musical birth (as well as an excuse to woo Bjork) of Tricky (with whom Gonjasufi shares a good part of curious and ascetic charisma), but in my opinion, the instability is precisely the key to understanding an album that works like a small showcase of sound paintings, atmospheres, and all these poetic things that always drive us crazy. Highly recommended for seekers of moments. Less so for those searching for crescendos: there isn't even one. But as far as I'm concerned, a listen, or two, won't hurt.