Whereas 2022’s acclaimed debut Could We Be More presented a robust blend of jazz-derived improvisation and polyrhythmic Afrobeat energy, Tuff Times Never Last lowers the tempo and sweaty intensity to head towards a cross-section of smooth 1980s soul, swinging lovers rock and various, distinctly British past masters of funkiness (say, Cymande) for inspiration. There are obvious indicators of the London seven-piece’s ongoing commitment to the spontaneity of jazz along the way but Tuff Times Never Last emphasises substantial tunes over instrumental stretching-out.
At first, the results can feel confoundingly slick, and almost disappointingly short on the band’s renowned bounce. Dig in, however, and Kokoroko’s evolution soon starts to make sense: the energy is still present, but it’s projected via subtler, more toned-down and tuneful means. Whereas the stereotypical shorthand for jazz involves individual showing-off and improvisational interplay where the listener’s interest may quickly become secondary to technical displays of musical ambition, Tuff Times Never Last aims for something warmer, more open and approachable: music to dance to, sway to, sing along to.
Opener “Never Lost” sets the scene aptly, oscillating assuredly between laidback reggae, glossy 80s soul and coolly caressing jazz-funk to create a gently insistent groove that floats in the air like heat-haze on a hot day, topped off with a lyrical hook that could double up as a declaration of spiritual devotion and/or commitment to a romantic partner. The giddy bounce of first single “Sweetie” is even better: nodding towards vintage West African disco (and its roots in Afrobeat), the increasingly fertile dialogue between duelling trumpet and saxophone that propels the track provides the album’s most seamlessly irresistible blend of Kokoroko’s newly prominent prioritisation of hooky tunefulness and the band’s jazz roots.
The more unexpected diversions from the expected script work almost as effectively. The deeply spiritual “My Father In Heaven” is a gospel-hued, near-acapella showcase for beautifully sculpted, complex harmony vocals. At the opposite end of the scale, “Da Du Dah” and “Just Can’t Wait” are pure bass-driven 1980s disco-soul gloss, the latter in particular riding an immensely persuasive hook. The extensive near-instrumental closer “Over / Reprise” emerges as a hushed, slow-burn cross between organic dub and nocturnal jazz, before evolving into a synth-fuelled, galloping finale that brings to mind the proto-electro experiments of William Onyeabor.
Tuff Times Never Last is the second record in 2025 (so far) from a nominally jazz artist alongside Emma-Jean Thackray’s Weirdo to successfully shift the focus from the dynamics of jazz to an enhanced focus on substantial songwriting. Even if a few rougher edges wouldn’t go amiss, the results prove resonant, occasionally reminiscent of the similarly genre-blending mash-up of black music styles exemplified by Sault.
