In his feature on the late J Dilla and his still-resonant productions, Nate Patrin wrote: "Dilla's productions got so busy and dense and unpredictably stitched-together that some artists who had to incorporate them into their own songs must have taken them as some kind of challenge." He then singles out British-born singer Steve (neé White) Spacek’s "Dolar" on his lone solo album and his selection of one of Dilla’s trickiest beats, which reduces Philly soul singer Billy Paul’s "Let the Dollar Circulate" to a looped syllable and a shoe-in-drier stumble of toms. But Spacek sounded surefooted on such slippery terrain. And whether working alongside the trio Spacek, as half of Africa Hitech, or else on his own as Black Pocket, each one of Spacek's projects danced around R&B, soul, hip-hop, broken beat, drum'n'bass, and grime, without ever planting solidly down in one. No matter the setting, Spacek’s falsetto was unfussy and at ease, evoking comparison to what Curtis Mayfield might have sounded like in the MPC era.
But it’s been six years since we last heard from Spacek under his own name or as Black Pocket. On Modern Streets, his low-key, nonchalant return—this time as Beat Spacek—he sounds unhurried and casual—it's an album made in those brief moments after being roused from an afternoon nap. Spacek purportedly crafted the entire album on iPad and iPhone apps rather than in a full-fledged recording studio, giving a sweatpants-and-Adidas slippers vibe to Modern Streets. Perhaps the closest parallel might be to those Vines that Erykah Badu has been uploading of late, playful, homespun and strange (and hopefully teasing a new record at some point). It makes Spacek’s 13 songs feel more like demos and sketches, little blips of songs abutting longer selections, most of them favoring blurriness over distinction.
Spacek’s ability to breeze over hectic beats is evident from opener "I Wanna Know", a snare drum skitter right out of an old jungle track sliding beneath him, while on "Tonight", he whispers sweet nothings about being VIP over a flipped Afrobeat sample. At moments like this, Spacek’s penchant for twisting beats feels like child’s play, most evidently on the halting claps and bleeps of "Gotta Get Some Music", where he and his kids titter about that very phrase. And amid the shortwave squeals of "Back to School" are strange background vocals that might make you wonder if Spacek has been listening to early Prince or else early Ariel Pink.
Most tracks on the first half clock in under four-minutes, but as the songs stretch out longer on the album’s back half, there’s not enough structure to support them. And midway through, as Spacek’s slender falsetto stretches to the breaking point, the slightness of some lyrics also become evident. Funky as the leaky faucet and thrummed kora that loop through the single "Alone in Da Sun" are, it does little in its six minutes. Some songs wiggle in place, as on "There Is a Love", and no matter the theme of "Stand Firm", the backing squishes like Nerf underfoot. As we celebrate J Dilla’s birth and death this week and lament what might have come from the man in the future, it feels like Spacek—despite some bright moments here—might have also benefited from another challenge.
