When I was in high school I was a fucking fiend for the Brand New Heavies. Sure, over time, I grew to fucking despise the smooth jazz in their brand of smooth jazz meets funk hop type shit, but there was a brief moment in time where I, too, felt like an African queen shaking my beaded dreadsies like Andrew WK. If, Andrew WK, was, uh, an African queen. That plastic-like crispy sheen of artificial snares, gay ass fucking horn samples, occasional doo bee doo's and rain makers, well, they remind me of when me and my friend Paul used to park at Clark and Belmont and walk around looking for people to look at. Everything smelled like nag champa and offered to sell us hash that was imported from Amsterdam inside a woman's vagina.
Now and again, glimpses of my brief love affair with le smoove come back into my psyche, but I'm standoffish. Mostly because I hate the smell of smooth jazz more than I hate scat singing and people that snap while singing. Call me snapcist, but Fuck that shit, point the finger guns at me, don't fucking snap at me, I ain't a motherfucking puppy son.
ANYWHOO, I was facebooking from my toilet last Thursday when I came across a post from Onry Ozzborn, and then in the comments was a name I remembered that I forgot to remember to geek out on. Reva fucking Devito.
Does that name ring your bell mister hiphopz?
Reva Devito sings the hooks on the Vessel album from Dark Time Sunshine.
Clarification: Reva Devito fucking MURDERS the fucking hooks on Vessel from DTS. Like, my favorite songs on that album include all of the tracks she absolutely murders. She has that vulnerable original (origulnerable/vulnerginal) quality to her voice that sounds completely effortless yet annoyingly perfect. Like she isn't even trying and the shit just pours out of her delicious mouth and all I can do is stare at her mouth and say "the shit just pours out of her delicious mouth and all I can do is stare at her mouth".
So being the curious asshole I am, I messaged her, admitted being a creepy fanboy, and asked for a link anything she's been working on lately. She messages back a bandcamp link and four days later I'm writing about it like a coozeflower in a cockgarden.
This week's bandcamper is Reva Devito singing over Roane Namuh beats in a 2012 version of cool out that reminds me of Janet Jackson's Velvet Rope album, but with a "back room at an adult pot party" type vibe. Like I said before, I'm well past enjoying smooth jazzy type shit, but the fucking vocals paired with the shushy production on this album are tits. It has the maturity level of a guy who knows enough to bring a gift to a housewarming party, but the sense to make the gift a set of vibrating anal beads. Ass classy, if you will.
There are a few definitive Telefon Tel Aviv moments amidst the futuristic retro sheen of Roane Namuh's production, but Reva Devito makes this shit her own by painting a welcoming front porch get together with her song hole. It isn't so stuffy as to make me imagine Reva wearing scarves and unnecessary spectacles, but there's space in the fridge for you to bring your own drank and no one's commenting on that 30 pack of High Life bruh. Yes, it's calling all of the boys to the yard, and some of these boys drink Franzia.
If you're down for the occasional self-sashay, and you appreciate the female voice as a means to a pantsless end, Roane Namuh and Reva Devito are the answer to the question you hadn't quite put into words. All you knew is that you wanted your pants off, you just didn't know it could sound so sensualz.