The best soul and R&B EPs of late 2018

There's no denying it: among music listeners in the streaming era, the album format is slowly losing importance, bringing with it all the decay and renewal that entails. Not only that, but with free access to giant digital databases containing millions of songs, the contemporary landscape has turned into a boundless ocean of music in which it's all too easy to get lost, or simply to throw in the towel. So a common question naturally arises, both for consumers and for the industry and artists involved: how to remedy this situation? There's obviously no single answer, but at the moment it seems that the good old Extended Play is (re)assuming a role of vital importance within the record industry landscape.

The reason is, all things considered, simple: the EP is both a solid stepping stone through which an artist can present their work to the world, and a lean container of music that's easier to digest for listeners interested in discovering new artists. The industry benefits too, since an EP is less expensive to put together and less of an official commitment to promote – no small matter even for the major labels that produce them, given that, with the huge economic fractures within the record industry caused by free streaming, getting to the album can be too long a process that still doesn't guarantee any sure returns. Better, then, to play it safe and take things step by step, some argue.

So the EP has almost become an obligatory stepping stone for cutting one's teeth while gathering the acclaim needed to move forward, and this is especially true for those artists working outside the current dance-pop chart trends, who aspire to a quality that isn't necessarily "crowd-pleasing". This tendency is certainly paying off in the field of alternative R&b and the strands of old-school soul updated for the ever-hungry ears of the modern audience. Over the past couple of decades these genres have turned into a kind of Esperanto that has crossed beyond American borders to range from Senegal to Canada, from England to France and Korea, capturing the love of the most attentive listeners and creating a simmering microcosm of names who — one hopes — will one day all manage to make the big leap. With no pretense of completeness and no hierarchy of importance, below we round up a few releases from recent months that have most piqued our curiosity and interest.

Sudan Archives – Sink (Stones Throw)

Make a note of this young woman's name as soon as possible, because with a bit of luck she's set to become a much-talked-about artist in the near future. Born in 1994, a violinist and composer of rare sensitivity with an impressive wealth of knowledge, Brittney Denise Park, better known as Sudan Archives, is one of the most distinctive and fascinating faces of young America today, a one-of-a-kind builder of worlds and possibilities, capable of blazing new expressive trails. If the previous "Sudan Archives" pointed the way, "Sink" cements that path, a nineteen-minute project in which the artist distills her own philosophy and cross-cultural thinking, aiming to connect, with lightning-quick brushstrokes of sound, the fervor and groove-sense of R&B and soul with Africa's rich musical heritage. All of this under the light of a hybrid of analog and electronic, of violins recalling the lively minimalism of East African luo-orutu and instrumental samples that take on the power of a choir, the perfect counterpoint to Sudan's spirited, versatile performances. The more "conventional" black music thus serves merely as a premise, as scaffolding on which to build a vision, a clash beyond genres and boundaries that speaks ancient and contemporary languages at once. The wait for a debut full-length has become truly agonizing. (Vassilios Karagiannis)

Amber Mark – Conexão (Jasmine/PMR)

Calling her a mere prospect would be an understatement — this is Amber Mark we're talking about. Her second official EP, "Conexão", has only four tracks, but there isn't a hair out of place even if you look for it with a magnifying glass. The smoothness of salsa, the rhythm of disco music, the melancholy of soul and the elegance of jazz are all elements you can trace both in her warm vocals and in the excellent electro-acoustic arrangements of the songs. Modern in attitude yet with the attention to detail of a 70s diva surrounded by a top-notch session band, the music of this young, vital New Yorker stands out on the scene for its pathos and quality.

Just listen to the dance groove of the title track, driven by a lovely piano riff and tropical percussion, or the way "All The Work" lingers in its intro before soon spilling into a sparkling latin-house chorus, to notice how effortlessly she rides rhythm and melody, always sounding perfectly at ease. And then there's "Love Me Right", a truly great soul-pop single and the song for which she's currently best known: a gorgeous melodic line, lavish arrangements and even a good old-fashioned rhythmic shift in the return after the bridge. Amber even has the nerve to take on a Sade classic like "Stronger Than Pride", and not only does she come out of it miraculously unscathed, but in the process she modernizes it with a trap-inflected snare-driven backbone without ever sounding flat or trendy.

Combined with the previous EP "3:33am" (2017) and a string of standalone tracks and various collaborations (one example among many: the irresistible groove-latin-disco flourish of "Heatwave"), "Conexão" reaffirms all of the artist's potential and adds four more tracks to the pocket of an already quite enviable, if still modest, songbook. She recently even gave a live demonstration of this during the London date of her mini European tour, showing off voice, charisma and a top-notch stage presence. Long live Amber Mark. (Damiano Pandolfini)

MorMor – Heaven's Only Wishful (Don't Guess)

With a voice like that, capable of drawing out unthinkable climaxes and giving structure even to seemingly more subdued tracks, someone like Seth Nyquist has little trouble winning people over. Add to that a more than decent gift for composition and remarkable control over elements such as atmosphere and emotional impact, and the whole package comes together with absolute ease. Having emerged last February from the Internet's dense chatter thanks to the striking video accompanying "Heaven's Only Wishful", the Canadian musician and multi-instrumentalist follows up his breakout track with a self-titled five-track EP, more than enough to highlight his multifaceted, many-sided talent. As much a child of the new black music as of a more rock-tinged attitude, the twenty-six-year-old songwriter crafts songs with real emotional heft, an ideal launchpad on which to let his dense performances pirouette, as powerful as they are skilled at revealing an almost confessional intimacy. Somewhere between The Weeknd and Devonté Hynes (but with a slightly more jagged sensibility that sets him apart), MorMor knows how to craft a ballad with all the trimmings ("Whatever Comes To Mind"), write the chorus for a potential hit (the vaguely hazy disco of "Waiting On The Warmth") and make the increasingly sticky universe of nu-R&B his own, working on its rhythmic and textural foundations (the synth-fantasy of "Lost"). With a bit more promotion behind him, all the ingredients are there to witness the birth of a new star. (Vassilios Karagiannis)

Col3trane – Boot (Cole Basta)

If further proof were ever needed of the influence exerted this decade by artists such as Drake, Frank Ocean and The Weeknd, then listening to "Boot" should dispel any doubt left on the matter. London's Col3trane (real name Cole Basta) first made waves just over a year ago with his debut EP "Tsarina", an outing that immediately put him on the radar despite his tender age of just 18. It could have ended there, yet "Boot" arrives in very short order with the clear intent of sharpening his technique without sacrificing quality. Without ever straying too far from the scientific fusion of r&b and hip-hop typical of the aforementioned names, Col3trane already has all the key ingredients in place: solid storytelling, dangling hooks, and excellent atmospheric production that manages to sound minimal without ever slipping into the flatness of chart-friendly trap.

The twisted, reinforced synths of the fine single "Britney" and the curious video for the melodic little march "Tyler" show us an artist who — while not exactly groundbreaking for those already following the genre — certainly has a clear vision. The rest of the record offers moments such as the intimacy of "Rose" and the irresistible melancholic hooks of "Chemicals" and "Resume" — all moments that reek of contemporary youth, seasoned with a touch of the detached sad boy eternally glued to his smartphone. Special mention goes to "Movie Star", where Ocean's ghost clearly peeks through a blanket of pulsing bass and synth chimes.

Everything is still up for grabs, but for now Col3trane is on the right track. We'll go a step further: if the excessive length dictated by streaming-era rules — which usually plagues chart-oriented releases — can dampen enthusiasm even for the most devoted listeners, then "Boot" is truly a tasty little morsel. (Damiano Pandolfini)

Haki – Perspective (Uncommon Ave.)

We know very little about Haki, another talent to have recently emerged from South Korea's inexhaustible urban forge. We have a name, Lee Hak-Hee, a few photos from his Instagram profile, and little else; ultimately not much more is needed, since "Perspective", his debut EP, speaks plenty on his behalf. Tiptoeing into the peninsula's dense r&b scene, the artist develops a rarefied, hazy language, rich in muffled electronic streaks and subtle funky phrasing, barely-sketched beats and countless arrangement nuances. It's a more-than-functional backdrop for the musician's shifting crooning, now more hushed and subdued ("Blind", the electro-ballad "Just Wanna Be"), now more charged and assertive (the emotional ups and downs of the Lapalux-style soulstep of "Distraxxion") — the true glue holding together a proposition that's already interesting in its own right, but which still has plenty of room to develop a more personal stylistic identity. Talent and character are certainly not lacking. (Vassilios Karagiannis)

Alxndr London – 2023 (The Spectacular Empire)

The idyllic imagery of a miniature ancient Japan, eccentric straw hats that look like chandeliers, garish tunics, dark glasses and a beard hiding his face: Alxndr London is — despite himself — too flamboyant a figure to go unnoticed, and fortunately the music follows suit with these assorted idiosyncrasies. "2023", his third official EP in three years of activity, continues his effort to fuse the power of gospel and a femininely luminous falsetto with blocks of experimentally-tinged electronics, cold pulses and sample-delic contortions.

"Silver Universe" is exemplary in this respect: starting from disjointed rhythms and tribal noise, it ends up veering into a brisker synthetic pulse and an otherworldly falsetto reminiscent of another fallen angel like Moses Sumney. "Silent Passenger" sounds almost aggressive amid sharp, robotic synths, but here too the track shifts tone halfway through with a steady gait and clear glimpses of open sky. And all this can only contrast with the introspective atmospheres of the hazy yet heartfelt ballad "Maybe", or "Juju Riddim", which sounds like a blues sung by a choir of ghosts, or "The Right Amount Of Everything", perhaps the most singable track of the bunch, even though the sonic backdrop crackles and hisses throughout, recalling the dark textures of serpentwithfeet.

At first, "2023" may come across as hard to digest — Alxndr's melodicism is elusive, hybridized down to its roots with the samples used, creating an inextricable sonic/vocal magma. Still, a sharp sense of originality and genuine vocal talent remain evident, two traits that make him one of the most intriguing names in the Anglo soul underground. The parting shot? "Judge Jury Executioner" sounds like a 90s D'Angelo song retouched by SOPHIE, and for that association of names alone he deserves applause regardless. (Damiano Pandolfini)

Colde – Wave (WAVY/Passport Seoul)

Half of the exceptional nu-r&b/hip-hop duo Offonoff, Colde (real name Kim Hee-Su) is, name notwithstanding, one of the warmest faces on the South Korean urban scene, a sensitive producer and refined vocalist, both on the purely melodic side and in his frequent forays into rap. On "Wave", his first solo effort, the young talent gives a substantial taste of his own savoir-faire, across eight tracks of smoky, nocturnal, gallant and slightly romantic r&b, in which beats, electronics and guitars roam freely across decades and moods, without settling on the most recent paradigms of contemporary urban-pop. Effervescent guitar-driven funk-hop (the opening "Jayu") thus becomes the stylistic and structural counterpart to love ballads whispered almost like lullabies (the surprising "Saranghaejwo"), while retro-futurist passages (the very-Eighties basslines of "Sunflower") give way to more modern, sparkling electro-soul episodes ("Space"), in an alternation that works thanks to a solid overall unity of mood and atmosphere. If Kim had already shown what he was made of with his main group, embarking on this solo adventure only enhances his expressive qualities, sowing the seeds for even more ambitious releases to come. Yet another name from the extraordinary Korean talent factory to keep a close eye on. (Vassilios Karagiannis)

James Bambu – Del Sol (self-released)

Not that the cover art suggested otherwise, but from the full-blown tropicalia opening of "Del Sol (Intro)" James Bambu really does seem like one of those nostalgics who landed by mistake in 2018. Sure enough, we find him again right after in the video for "Love Nest", yellow flowers in his hair, lazing on a hammock alongside his beloved, in a hippie utopia of lush plants, harps, natural materials and hemp fabrics. But behind this cleverly démodé aesthetic lies undeniable musical good taste; from the warm acoustics with plucked strings of "In Your Mood" to the elegant electronic backdrop of "Angel Eyes" and the gauzy "Succulent", and from the liquid dream-pop guitars of "Let It Go" to a perfect torch song like "Ecstasy" — James Bambu portrays love, sex and romantic intimacy without ever tipping into sappiness, which is already half a victory in itself for this kind of genre. "Del Sol" is the product of a musician young enough to have discovered 90s neo-soul before the soul of the 70s founding fathers, but it's precisely thanks to this reverse process that his songwriting keeps a fresh, modern edge even when viewed through the vintage lens of its original inspiration.

At this rate it won't be long before we glimpse the more polished side of Mr. Bambu, should a label ever step in wanting to push him toward a wider audience than the independent circuit he currently inhabits, but for now "Del Sol" is a perfect snapshot in its utopian, dreamy brevity. And besides, which of us wouldn't want to spend at least one afternoon every now and then lazing on a hammock just like that? (Damiano Pandolfini)

H.E.R. – I Used To Know Her: The Prelude (RCA)

The first chapter of a two-part EP series completed over these past few weeks, "I Used To Know Her: The Prelude" marks the recorded return of Gabi Wilson, following her first live appearance — with the accompanying reveal of her true identity — last June. An important step (however much the artist herself has downplayed it), which has led to an equally significant stylistic shift. Less mellow and far more direct in both delivery and message, on her third mini-album the young Californian sharpens her weapons and unleashes a work of (at times almost too) brutal honesty, moving beyond the confessional themes of her earlier work to embrace subjects such as female empowerment and politics, with a lyrical fire that spares no one. While the tribute to Lauryn Hill on the opening "Lost Souls" may alienate quite a few listeners, the rest of the record faithfully carries out Wilson's new intentions, spanning brilliant minimalist hip-soul tunes ("Against Me" and its poetic rap coda), trembling r&b ballads ("Could've Been"), and intriguing trap-tinged openings ("Feel A Way"). With the confidence on display in this work (as well as in the warmer soul openings of the new EP), H.E.R. is certainly taking risks, but she shows she has crystal-clear ideas on how to shape her debut full length, now expected sometime next year. Expectations, at this point, are anything but low. (Vassilios Karagiannis)

Kwaye – Love & Affliction (Mind Of A Genius)

Three failed relationships and a warm, deep voice full of soul inflections to tell their story across six songs: "Love & Affliction" is as clear in its intentions as the sky blue of its cover art. Born in Zimbabwe and raised in England, Kwaye was discovered during a trip to Los Angeles after playing a demo for his Uber driver, who happened to have once worked in the music industry and, with a couple of phone calls, sent it straight to the headquarters of Mind Of A Genius (ZHU). In a way, it's easy to understand why Kwaye is drawing attention; a photogenic face and an elegantly eccentric look, plus a love of dance that he expresses through his music videos in the vein of peers such as Blood Orange and Starchild & The New Romantic. And then, of course, there are the songs, firmly built on soul-funk-pop frameworks with a vaguely eighties flavor and produced with a fair amount of effectiveness.

If her (gorgeous) old debut single "Cool Kids" already had a chorus that sounded like a missed hit for Duran Duran, "Love & Affliction" continues along the same path of forthright, radio-friendly melodicism that's nonetheless always rather stylish: witness the electro-dance keyboards that punctuate the powerful chorus of "What Have You Done" and create distorted slides over the loping pace of "Hanging On", or the chillwave blend à la Washed Out lent to the utterly simple "Keep On Lovin You" and a languid guitar in the sweaty blues of "Made For It". The minimalist closing ballad "Paralyzed" is simply gorgeous, with Kwaye showing off vocal skills of androgynous beauty, almost like a softened version of Tracy Chapman and Joan Armatrading. No tricks and no poses here, then, just a lot of expectations for the future. (Damiano Pandolfini)

Maeve – Beasts (Dustheads)

Can you judge an artist based on just three songs? The beautiful, curly-haired Maeve has just landed among us straight from the Cayman Islands – which is a bit odd, since placing the dark sounds of "Beasts" in a sun-drenched tax haven feels like a sensory oxymoron. Vocals in the vein of Lorde, a slow, languid melodicism reminiscent of Lana Del Rey and mountains of avant-garde keyboards à la FKA twigs are ingredients that immediately prick up the ears of the most attentive and voracious listeners. The sinister prayer of "Martyr" slithers along slowly like the snakes of Medusa on the cover, "Eden" recalls the Weeknd at his darkest and most experimental, with Maeve's voice never losing sight of melody while keyboards and guitars climb toward desolate landscapes. But the track that steals the show is called "Empty": a minimal skeleton of vocoder and background noise, instrumental bursts driven by deep basses and synthetic trinkets à la Björk – all the melodic/experimental potential of modern r&b concentrated into a single track.

If this turns out to be the blueprint for a future full-length debut, then Maeve is well on her way to injecting a touch of sonic care and interesting production ideas into today's generalist streaming-pop landscape – something we could increasingly use more of these days. (Damiano Pandolfini)

Madison McFerrin – Finding Foundations: Vol II (630113)

For nearly a century now, the McFerrin household has kept churning out talent, and we can now add the family's youngest, Madison, to the list. A quick rundown? Grandfather Robert was a celebrated lyric baritone who went down in history as the first African American to perform at New York's Metropolitan Opera in the 1940s, while father Bobby is that hugely famous soul singer and author of a certain "Don't Worry, Be Happy". Of the two older siblings, Jevon is a stage actor and Taylor is an excellent electro/jazz producer affiliated with Flying Lotus's Brainfeeder. There would be more than enough pressure to just pull the plug and take up horse racing instead, but the brave Madison shows up armed with nothing but her voice and a loop station, throwing herself body and soul into rediscovering the purity of a cappella music. The result is a reinvention of the genre that, drawing on both the southern gospel harmonies of Tweet and the folk storytelling of the early Rickie Lee Jones, ends up sounding like an intimate, candlelit evening of music set to poetry. It's impossible not to notice the seductive melodic line of "Shine", even through the pom-pom-like accompaniment, and the gorgeous crescendo that builds from the second half of "Insane" onward, conveying all the languor of an irrational lovesickness.

The listen closes with a long live-recorded version of "Can You See?", which uses finger snaps and some background electronic noise to conjure up a celestial meditation. (Damiano Pandolfini)

Radiant Children – Tryin' (self-released)

Radiant Children are three seasoned, no-longer-so-young professionals who've squared the circle by pooling their compositional talents while also stumbling into a stroke of good luck: the popular American TV series "Insecure" featured their debut single "Life's A Bitch" in an episode, and suddenly the trio found themselves with the means to turn their vision into a genuinely respectable project. Backed by real savoir-faire in both songwriting and production (not to mention being excellent live performers, ed.), and with Fabienne's beautiful voice sailing over everything with a breezy, youthful air that's still plenty capable of soul-deep vertigo, Radiant Children deliver one of the most enjoyable EPs of the year. The sparkling "Go Left" rides a punchy chorus and a velvety symphonic string section at the close, the aforementioned "Life's A Bitch" shows off a fizzy Thundercat-style bassline and a witty little Lily Allen-esque backing chorus that suits the lyric's ironic mockery perfectly. The loping pace of "Poke Bowl" is also lovely, with that confidential, lived-in air typical of the late Amy Winehouse. But it's on the title track of this whole mini-project that Radiant Children gift us one of the finest songs in recent memory: warm, hazy neo-soul keyboards wrap around the slow intro, before the chorus explodes into a jubilant swirl of voices and horns and an instrumental bridge full of quirky drum patterns, syncopated bass and funky Prince-style keyboard hits. All the ingredients for a quality full-length are there. (Damiano Pandolfini)

Eliza – A Real Romantic (self-released)

Back when she was still going by the surname Doolittle, showbiz daughter Eliza was one of the most famous (and irritating) voices of that girlie-vintage-pop trend born out of the success of Lily Allen and Amy Winehouse between the late 2000s and early 2010s (in the ranks alongside big names such as Duffy, Adele, Paloma, Rumer and so on). But evidently, for Eliza, a platinum album, European success and the fashion world's flattery didn't last very long. Or maybe, now approaching thirty, she simply decided to pursue music as a passion that doesn't necessarily need to win over the mainstream audience.

The move is drastic, starting with a brand-new profile on all the main platforms that seems intent on severing every tie with the past. But it's the music that holds the best surprise; "A Real Romantic" consists of eight torrid, sensual alt-neo-soul jams, artfully (un)dressed in an intimate, distinctly feminine lo-fi electro-acoustic atmosphere. The various tracks that had already previewed it (including "Wide Eyed Fool", "Wasn't Looking" and "Livid") all showed off a curious palette of measured rhythms, tiptoeing basslines and gaunt threads of keyboard, with Eliza's sweet but biting voice holding the narrative together across verses, choruses and countermelodies – and that's the very spirit animating one of the most pleasurable and piquant soul listens of the year.

Like her fellow British soul singer V V Brown – another voice reborn as an independent artist after a string of misfortunes – Eliza has taken the leap into the unknown, and from here it'll be interesting to see how her art develops. We wish her all the best, and for now we'll keep listening to what – no offense to her old label – is the best thing she's ever released to date. (Damiano Pandolfini)

Bonus track:

Martine – Blame The Rain (Park Side)

It should be noted that several of the six tracks on "Blame The Rain" have been floating around on multimedia artist Martine Gutierrez's Soundcloud for a number of years now, but it wasn't until 2018 that the project found an official outlet on the major platforms, courtesy of Park Side Records – the label on which her friend Ruiz Names/Jessica 6 already records (and with whom, in fact, Martine collaborated just a few months ago on the sticky yet thrilling trip-hop of "Origins"). It should also be pointed out that it's not even accurate to call it r&b in a strict sense, since the music on "Blame The Rain" flows in a liquid, inscrutable way, much like its author's own artistic identity (take a look at her website to get a sense of who she is). Undeniably, though, amid Latin-tinged melancholy ("Be My Baby") and echoes of spectral dub (the agonizing, endless wait of "If"), the outline emerges of a hybrid urban sound that's been rumbling through the more nu- and electro- corners of the contemporary landscape for some time. Then there's the melting pot of "Hands Up" to reckon with: an opening chord progression that recalls "La Isla Bonita", a verse delivered like a streetwise gangsta-lolita, and a pleading chorus framed by '80s keyboards.

You can even catch echoes of the venerable Saint Etienne in the sparse reggae of a title track laced with off-screen ambient noise, while on "Caught My Eye" the mood takes on an oblique, possessed noir-jazz gait that embroiders the sinister, manic-depressive languors of Annabel (lee). Modern yet out of time, mired in the contemporaneity of a bitter earthly life yet the sole inhabitant of a world all her own, Martine is above all a "concept" of post-modern identity, and "Blame The Rain" remains one of the most inscrutably fascinating listens of the year: leaving it out would have been a crime. (Damiano Pandolfini)

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