It's funny when you're engaging with something and roughly 95% of it is great but that extra 5% is so pervasive that you can't stop thinking about it. The dead pixel on your monitor, the fly buzzing around your bedroom, or the tiny ulcer just on the end of your tongue. That's a little bit how I felt when listening to The Echoes of a Sunday Soul by T. Houze, a rapper with a clear love of the kind of soulful R&B that came out of hip hop's golden age.
Typically I think it's poor form to start with a criticism but in this instance I think I need to get it out of the way because it permeated my entire experience with this album. Nearly every single track on this album feature vocals that have this kind of sexy whispered delivery that when paired with an often quite awkward flow made me feel slightly uncomfortable and frustrated. It's a problem so consistent that it detracts from everything I think the album is doing well, and that's a lot of things!
There's a handful of tracks, like the skittering To The Stars and the Spanish guitar inflected Jump Street, where some female backing vocals come in and they sound so so good. Great voices and great harmonies and they elevate everything. There's also the silky smooth saxophone party in The Hand That Feeds (which is sadly NOT a cover of one of my favourite Nine Inch Nails songs), the upbeat funk of Hunter, and subtle bluegrass notes of Little Lies.
In general, the production is fantastic, with crunchy drum samples and a real sense of space and ambience. There's also just enough variety to get through the album without feeling repetitive, with some songs tending towards the darker side than others. There are certainly things to like here, and I think it's still worth checking out for anyone who loves soul music.