Danny Lee Blackwell works well in mystery. Over the past fourteen years, Night Beats has been his creative outlet for outlaw music with a borderless spirit, merging classic psychedelia with sun-drenched soul into a spacey modern soundscape. In a 2022 Levitation Session, Blackwell and his band performed a career-spanning set as the sun sank below the horizon of the Mojave Desert — a fitting location for his wild, Western-tinged music. Perhaps it was also a hint of things to come, as Rajan finds Blackwell's tried and true desert-drive soundtrack drifting into dusky twilight on an album that dives deep into heady, moody textures.
If 2021's Outlaw R&B saw Blackwell stamp a trademark on his signature sound, Rajan sees him paying tribute to his heritage and cementing his identity in the modern psych landscape. The album — titled after Blackwell's middle name, meaning "king" in Sanskrit — is dedicated to his mother, but more so to the sense of freedom and individuality she instilled in him. He conveys his gratitude for these traits by filling the album with uninhibited twists and bends, then states it directly on the sweet, funk-driven "Thank You," which shines as the album's centrepiece. Over jangly funk guitar, he thanks his mother "for giving me a sense of right and wrong … for showing me the things I could live without," its soulful steadiness rapidly diffusing into passages of swirling psychedelia and Hendrix-esque riffing.
When disorder takes over on Rajan, it's done with subtlety and ease. Album opener "Hot Ghee" may as well be a manifesto for its fluid melange of styles, and a fitting introduction, considering ghee's use as an offering at the beginning of Hindu ceremonies. Its opening burst of baglama dissolves naturally into mystical psych as echoey, layered vocals compel us to "open up your mind, seeker of the holy one," tension rising behind depictions of chaos. Like ghee melting in a pan and fusing with other flavours, varying genres and layers often meander and merge into each other on Rajan, adding dimension and interest. Unexpected turns and freakouts feel more restrained than on Blackwell's previous garage-heavy output, existing more for mind-expanding than headbanging.
This fluid, layered direction hits the hardest on the hypnotic "Osaka," the one occasion on Rajan where Blackwell steps aside as the sole performer as Ambrose Kenny-Smith (King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard, the Murlocs) contributes harmonica and vocals. Flute and fluttering riffs give way to hip-hop drums and harmonica trills; its hazy, fever dream-like texture is swallowed whole by a few false endings. "Fall asleep to the boogie dream, cave in!" — do we even have a choice? It's unsurprising that the two modern psych musicians most indebted to the genre's R&B and blues roots work well together, and it plays out like a chopped and screwed ode to their influences as Blackwell name drops in a monotone: Ruth Brown, Captain Beefheart classic "Dropout Boogie," Professor Longhair, and others.
When Blackwell leans into these vintage influences, he sounds most like himself. While past releases have sometimes seen Night Beats' identity overshadowed by its inspirations, Rajan strikes a balance between timelessness and modernity. Its two most R&B-indebted songs — the sublimely mellow "Blue" and the playful "9 to 5" — feel equal parts suited to the jukebox of "the old drug store we knew we loved" and a slot at Austin Psych Fest. From its first sparkle of vibraphone, "Blue" truly stuns with nostalgic dreaminess: its jazzy drums and vocals that sound lifted from an old 45 unexpectedly drop into disorder, only to return with a sprawling guitar solo that adds expansiveness with a hint of cosmic country.
While the subtle Western tinge that has been a staple of previous releases feels more subdued this time, Blackwell still tunes in to his Texas roots to harness his outlaw R&B sound. Whether it's the rumbly, sinister riff of "Cautionary Tale" that summons the same melancholy as the one in the Gun Club's "Mother of Earth"; the sleek, acoustic-heavy acid trip of "Anxious Mind" or the sprawling spaciness of "Dusty Jungle" that sounds born from the environment it's named after, a bit of desert dust stays sprinkled in the psychedelia. The jangly "Morocco Blues" shows best how this fuses into the heady palette of Rajan, its opening swirl of sitar gradually melting into blues at its haziest and dreamiest, as if J.J. Cale's "Call Me the Breeze" existed in the cosmic dimension of Silver Apples' "Ruby."
The world of Rajan may exist beneath a haze of mystique, but it's clear as ever that Blackwell has skillfully narrowed the focus of his artistic vision, bending and twisting it to new heights. Such large and lush production is an impressive feat from a one-man band, and it gives space for each song to meander freely: between styles, between eras, and along a thin line between sweet and sinister. Rajan successfully bridges vintage influences into the best of modern psychedelia, resulting in the most precise and mature Night Beats album to date. Perhaps the secret ingredient is just a little hot ghee.
(Fuzz Club / Suicide Squeeze )If 2021's Outlaw R&B saw Blackwell stamp a trademark on his signature sound, Rajan sees him paying tribute to his heritage and cementing his identity in the modern psych landscape. The album — titled after Blackwell's middle name, meaning "king" in Sanskrit — is dedicated to his mother, but more so to the sense of freedom and individuality she instilled in him. He conveys his gratitude for these traits by filling the album with uninhibited twists and bends, then states it directly on the sweet, funk-driven "Thank You," which shines as the album's centrepiece. Over jangly funk guitar, he thanks his mother "for giving me a sense of right and wrong … for showing me the things I could live without," its soulful steadiness rapidly diffusing into passages of swirling psychedelia and Hendrix-esque riffing.
When disorder takes over on Rajan, it's done with subtlety and ease. Album opener "Hot Ghee" may as well be a manifesto for its fluid melange of styles, and a fitting introduction, considering ghee's use as an offering at the beginning of Hindu ceremonies. Its opening burst of baglama dissolves naturally into mystical psych as echoey, layered vocals compel us to "open up your mind, seeker of the holy one," tension rising behind depictions of chaos. Like ghee melting in a pan and fusing with other flavours, varying genres and layers often meander and merge into each other on Rajan, adding dimension and interest. Unexpected turns and freakouts feel more restrained than on Blackwell's previous garage-heavy output, existing more for mind-expanding than headbanging.
This fluid, layered direction hits the hardest on the hypnotic "Osaka," the one occasion on Rajan where Blackwell steps aside as the sole performer as Ambrose Kenny-Smith (King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard, the Murlocs) contributes harmonica and vocals. Flute and fluttering riffs give way to hip-hop drums and harmonica trills; its hazy, fever dream-like texture is swallowed whole by a few false endings. "Fall asleep to the boogie dream, cave in!" — do we even have a choice? It's unsurprising that the two modern psych musicians most indebted to the genre's R&B and blues roots work well together, and it plays out like a chopped and screwed ode to their influences as Blackwell name drops in a monotone: Ruth Brown, Captain Beefheart classic "Dropout Boogie," Professor Longhair, and others.
When Blackwell leans into these vintage influences, he sounds most like himself. While past releases have sometimes seen Night Beats' identity overshadowed by its inspirations, Rajan strikes a balance between timelessness and modernity. Its two most R&B-indebted songs — the sublimely mellow "Blue" and the playful "9 to 5" — feel equal parts suited to the jukebox of "the old drug store we knew we loved" and a slot at Austin Psych Fest. From its first sparkle of vibraphone, "Blue" truly stuns with nostalgic dreaminess: its jazzy drums and vocals that sound lifted from an old 45 unexpectedly drop into disorder, only to return with a sprawling guitar solo that adds expansiveness with a hint of cosmic country.
While the subtle Western tinge that has been a staple of previous releases feels more subdued this time, Blackwell still tunes in to his Texas roots to harness his outlaw R&B sound. Whether it's the rumbly, sinister riff of "Cautionary Tale" that summons the same melancholy as the one in the Gun Club's "Mother of Earth"; the sleek, acoustic-heavy acid trip of "Anxious Mind" or the sprawling spaciness of "Dusty Jungle" that sounds born from the environment it's named after, a bit of desert dust stays sprinkled in the psychedelia. The jangly "Morocco Blues" shows best how this fuses into the heady palette of Rajan, its opening swirl of sitar gradually melting into blues at its haziest and dreamiest, as if J.J. Cale's "Call Me the Breeze" existed in the cosmic dimension of Silver Apples' "Ruby."
The world of Rajan may exist beneath a haze of mystique, but it's clear as ever that Blackwell has skillfully narrowed the focus of his artistic vision, bending and twisting it to new heights. Such large and lush production is an impressive feat from a one-man band, and it gives space for each song to meander freely: between styles, between eras, and along a thin line between sweet and sinister. Rajan successfully bridges vintage influences into the best of modern psychedelia, resulting in the most precise and mature Night Beats album to date. Perhaps the secret ingredient is just a little hot ghee.
