ALIAS & EHREN - Lillian

For some years now, Anticon has been a benchmark for anyone wanting to explore hip-hop's new frontiers and beyond: a label that's a symbol in itself, a brand that speaks for itself. The deconstruction of hip-hop and its vision from truly different angles, both in terms of sound - far removed from American standards - and in terms of rapping, when present, characterized by a deeper exploration of themes other than the usual mix of women/money/cars/shootouts.

A whole other world, in fact, closer to the European scene than the American one: there have been numerous collaborations between Anticon artists and European labels and artists (absolutely worth mentioning is the one between cLOUDDEAD and Hood on “Cold House”, the English band's second-to-last effort), just as there are many shared ideas, common directions, and sonic territories to explore. Alias debuted on Anticon Records in 2002 with an album, “The Other Side Of Looking Glass”, capable of giving canonical hip-hop a new look, drowning it in rather murky waters, much like the unforgettable Cannibal Ox did: dilated dark beats, psychedelic rides through broken rhythms, clattering samples, cutting rhymes. A listen that never lets up for a moment.

A year passes and Brendon Whitney (our man's real name) produces “Muted”, again released by Anticon, and seems to want to tell us it's time to look elsewhere. His powerful voice disappears, and with it lyrics that were more often than not quite beautiful: the ambient component takes over, and along with it, a distinctly electronic one. So Alias loses himself a bit in the search for the perfect beat, caught between glitch and tedium, proving - with just two sung tracks (absolutely worth seeking out is “Unseen Sights”, sung by Markus Acher of Notwist) - that he's an excellent producer, but one who's almost entirely dependent on the vocal element, on that something that gives depth and accessibility to his rooms, which are all too often empty and bare.

Now comes “Lillian”, Alias's third album, entirely composed and recorded together with his brother Ehren, eleven years his junior and a talented multi-instrumentalist (flute, alto sax, soprano sax and clarinet): the album, dedicated to and inspired by the two brothers' grandmother (Lillian, indeed), picks up the thread left hanging on the previous “Muted”. What we have here is a very homogeneous, almost monotone record; the compositions are all entirely instrumental, based on the usual ambient+beat interplay and, this time, enriched by Ehren's arrangements - warm interweavings of wind instruments, ethereal melodies that lend a more human side to Alias's tracks, which are certainly capable of crafting practically unassailable beats, but incapable of finding a way out of the tunnel that's brought him this far. Not everything is negative, to be fair: the cinematic quality of the Whitney brothers' music is captivating on more than one occasion, as are the spaces they create, the pauses, the atmospheres. Certain electronic touches are enthralling and the care put into the sound is striking more than once, proof that Alias has nothing to envy in the genre's best productions - but, honestly, I could describe each of the thirteen tracks in much the same way, perhaps focusing on some shifting mood here and there, but that would be a truly arduous and ultimately pointless task, given how little variety we're actually dealing with.

The album washes over you, leaving very few traces behind. “Lillian” can work well as background, atmospheric music, but outside of that role it doesn't hold up to close listening, unless you happen to have cocktail hour running all day long.

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30/04/2026