Spectreview: Hiatus Kaiyote – Mood Valiant

Released: June 25, 2021

Neo-Soul
(Progressive Soul)
(Contemporary R&B)

-RED!-

For a guide to the review color rating system, click here.

“Maybe if I was hard and not so
“I got a little bit, you got a little bit, we can get over it”
Or maybe if I was hard and not so emotional”

The worst thing you can say about Hiatus Kaiyote (besides those tenuous accusations of cultural appropriation) is that they came out of the gate fully-formed. 2013’s Talk Tomahawk EP showcased everything that the Melbourne neo-soul titans were capable of: vibrant displays of melodic and rhythmic fireworks, Nai Palm’s quicksilver voice at the center, all posited at the crossroads between easy-listening accessibility and untouchable technicality. Valued by transient stoners and music-degree owners at once, Hiatus Kaiyote’s approach to what they called “future soul” (or the decidedly less-impactful “wonder core”) has proved immensely influential, providing the sampled base for several classics by a slew of high-profile artists while becoming the spark for an entire local scene of talented artists inspired by the band’s freewheeling mesh of jazz and soul.

The question that Mood Valiant feels primed to answer is if there’s any other ground the band has to cover. It’s a hard question to answer, hard enough to lead you to inform why it took them six years to release a follow-up to Choose Your Weapon: that is, if you weren’t aware of just how many projects its members have individually contributed to since it’s release, and of Nai Palm’s breast cancer diagnosis in 2018. But Mood Valiant largely chooses to ignore that train of thought. Barring a heightened sense of cohesion the record is, first and foremost, simply more Hiatus Kaiyote. I don’t think a single person who fancies their work could reasonably complain.

There are a few new tricks, like the 5/4 piano figure slotted into a 4/4 beat on “Rose Water” and the occasional extended mood piece (“Sparkle Tape Break Up,” for instance, feels like a common transitional piece fortified by an uncommon melancholy), but compositionally Mood Valiant mostly boasts the same professional chops and lightly psychedelic vibe that won people over years ago. It’s grand, splendiferous unfurlings (“Rose Water,” “Chivalry Is Not Dead”) preceded by light intros that function as transitions (“Hush Rattle” and “Slip Into Something Soft,” respectively) and the occasional left turn (“Get Sun,” “Blood and Marrow”). Because it’s the first Kaiyote project since their debut double LP, it’s actually the first time they’ve operated in a traditional album length, but overall Mood Valiant is true to name: a mood piece at its most superficial and a gentle rumination on death at its deepest.

That could be disappointing if you were waiting for a new spin on a now-classic formula, but as the record unspools, a subtle change does indeed take shape. It’s summational, and it’s related to substance. To my experience Hiatus Kaiyote don’t usually grasp profundity, and if they do it’s often wrapped in the toothless bite of cloudy revelation, the kind you say out loud and forget immediately after the weed wears off. But Mood Valiant bears a surprising melancholy edge that, rather than being stressed outright, creeps up on you over time.

Doubtless it feels informed by Nai Palm’s health crisis, but there’s plenty elsewhere to grieve: the expanding coffin of the Great Barrier Reef, for example and the Australian government’s frustrating capacity to ignore it. Whether related or not, Australia’s natural beauty courses through these songs, in Palm’s imagery and in the lush soundscapes of “Hush Rattle” and “Flight of the Tiger Lily.” Elsewhere, moments of doubt and hurt puncture the band’s typical euphoria, as in the introspective “Sparkle Tape Break Up” or the restrained “Red Room.” A demand for catharsis unwittingly forms, and it hits right at the end when “Stone and Lavender” slows the pace down using something hitherto unknown in the band’s repertoire: an honest-to-god ballad. It’s one of the strongest moments in Kaiyote’s catalog, but a good deal its emotional power is because of what’s come before it. That indicates that the band are finally – or starting, at least – to write in summation, not just for heady moments of breathtaking beauty.

None of this is necessary to appreciate Mood Valiant, because at its core it’s still a collection of talents pushing themselves through progressive time signatures and dense confluences of unconventional melodies. But that extra bit of substance leads me to believe this could be Hiatus Kaiyote’s best album yet. I’ll let you know once I light up again.

Recommended for flight.