tUnE-yArDs
“W H O K I L L”
4AD
4 out of 5 stars

For most, the reflexive, hipster-condemning reaction to Merrill Garbus’s bizarre stylizing will be enough to prevent them from ever experiencing the steady tenderness of “Powa” or the primal, aesthetic pleasure in singing the chorus of “Gangsta”. They’ll have never given her a chance, in other words.

“W H O K I L L” is the second release from New England avant-garde Garbus, the singer and multi-instrumentalist behind tUnE-yArDs; it’s a step forward from 2009’s “BiRd-BrAiNs”, largely because the earlier album was recorded using cheap hardware and software and featured only Garbus. She’s since added Nate Brenner, who plays a well-matched bass that undulates along behind her as she hopscotches across genres and bellows in her strong register.

“BiRd-BrAiNs” was a tad overwhelming, but highly promising (the scope of its stylistic variety was too broad and the production too shoddy), and “W H O K I L L” is the delivery on that promise. Her hip-hop and reggae tendencies synthesize and exposit on “Gangsta” and album opener “My Country” works like some weirdly cool post-modern folk song. “Bizness”, the first single, is the most notable standalone track, and immediately suggests the bubbly playfulness of Pogo, before steadily morphing into something more sinister and suggestive: “I’m a victim, yeah/Don’t take my knife away”. The record bubbles with great race and gender issues, presented in a personal narrative. “I’ve tried so hard to be a peaceful, loving woman,” she sings on the cooing, airy track “Doorstep” that’s punctuated with her excellent trash can drumming.

Garbus’s ukulele playing is top-notch and ranges from tender to ferocious. The extent of her vocal abilities are similar; she sounds authoritative in whatever style she chooses, suggesting M.I.A. as a contemporary.

“W H O K I L L” will probably be remembered as the most easily accessible bizarre indie record of 2011, a pleasant and simultaneously challenging listening experience that belongs at a backyard barbecue and in the neighborhood hipster’s oversized headphones.

— Matt Carney/The Daily