NNAMDÏ should be exhausted. He’s a bottomless well of creativity, the type of musician who resides at an imagination boot camp and isn’t satisfied until he’s wrung out every possible idea. In the two years since BRAT and Krazy Karl, the experimental pop multi-hyphenate underwent wrist surgery, toured with Wilco and Sleater-Kinney, released an EP, and was named a Chicago Tribune Chicagoan of the Year. By the time NNAMDÏ was ready to prop his feet up for once, he couldn’t even do that. “I fought my way in for a seat by the throne/Looked for a space but it was already gone,” he begins Please Have a Seat, his sixth official album and first for Secretly Canadian. After that two-minute exhale of an opener, he takes off running. Billed as an exercise in being present, Please Have a Seat casts NNAMDÏ’s trademark restlessness in a new light, loosening up the ecstatic absurdity of his songs and rethinking what it means to be accessible without sacrificing passion.
Written, produced, and performed entirely by NNAMDÏ, Please Have a Seat is perhaps the best introduction to his catalog for the uninitiated listener. The album is a revolving door of genres, unified by slick production that sets the glitchy rap of “Anti” alongside the unassuming piano of “Careful.” NNAMDÏ mixes a trap beat with Röyksopp-style electronica on “Touchdown” and twists regal orchestral strings into downtrodden indie rock on “Lifted.” He showcases equal skill on the drum kit during “Dibs,” launching into a burst of thrash metal before pivoting to anthemic, spaced-out fills. Sprinkled in between are commercial-style skits. It’s unpredictable and also exactly what you’d expect from a guy who’s as devoted to Sum 41 as he is to Blake Mills. The only thing consistent about NNAMDÏ is that he thrives on inconsistency.
The best songs on Please Have a Seat indulge the playful, hybrid picking style of math-rock guitar (even if NNAMDÏ bristles at the term). Album highlight “Smart Ass” layers glittery, pitch-shifted vocals and guitar noodling akin to finger exercises, like if Owl City covered Emergency & I. It’s a vibrant song that summarizes what makes NNAMDÏ such a singular artist and a worthy tourmate for eccentric rockers like Black Midi: He blends genres the average listener may find off-putting and turns them into something not just palatable, but fun. He’s the people’s nerd, an artist who can present even the most technically difficult music as a casual, catchy pop song.
With his musical growth and rising profile, NNAMDÏ could be considered on the cusp of fame by now. But he’s not waiting around. On Please Have a Seat, he repeatedly critiques his ascent: If he’s going to be a celebrity, he’ll take the opportunity to cash in and share the wealth with his community. “Fuck being popular/I want the bread,” he raps. “312 love me/Ain’t no man above me/So pull up a seat/I’ll make you a plate.” On lead single “I Don’t Wanna Be Famous,” he grapples with his career stature, acknowledging the hustle for playlist placement and cringing at outlets that once dubbed him “too weird” to be taken seriously. He may get to hang with the Miley Cyruses of this world, but he’s ambivalent about the attention that comes with it.
An indie musician at the middle tier of fame is in a strange position: too big to duck the pressure of public perception, too small to be able to afford to ignore it, and busy touring all the while. If he’s running on fumes, not only is NNAMDÏ not showing it, but he’s turning them into his own brand of renewable energy. On Please Have a Seat, his gusto is as unrelenting as the blistering jazz drumming on “Anxious Eater.” Wrangling together dozens of technical ideas and arranging them with idiosyncratic flair, NNAMDÏ enters this challenging middle zone without compromising his priorities. It’s what makes Please Have a Seat the best he’s ever sounded.
