“Rice” kicks off in an exuberant ritual of sound. An electric sitar slides us into a mantra — its repetition frames the album with its overarching question. Like a runner without a finish line, is it even worth asking: is this all there is?

That question is infused into the bass and rhythm section of “Rice” and much of the whole album. There’s little time to overthink inside this relentless trance. “Hear it coming / round the bend …. See the turning tide. … You can die like this.” Lyrically, Young Fathers are as enigmatic as ever. Still, a through line emerges: there is magic to be found in the mundane. There are a lot of nuances here, but you won’t be able to unpack it in real time. That might be the point. 

“I Saw” continues the trance with a beat that feels like Goldfrapp’s “Ooh La La” dialed up to a thirteen. This branches out into a resplendent choral release. The narrator bears witness to a culture of bad seeds “buried between justice”. A land of voyeuristic wanna-be winners that value safety and control over vulnerability. 

Its most joyous track, “Drum”, is the response to the call out of “I Saw”. It’s a bacchanalian celebration of survival. It’s all going to catch up to you so why not live in a state of release instead of exerting so much control. The beat drones into the numbness of surrender. “Hear the beat of the drums and go numb. / Have fun. / Go on.” 

That surrender releases into the album’s most sweeping track. “Tell Somebody” sits in suspension as its slowly swelling orchestra calls for connectivity in an increasingly lonely world.  “You scream, but your soul / your soul ain’t sound.” It’s a deceptively simple track that stuns. Your pain is not you, but it is a part of what connects you to your humanity. 

Geronimo (the album’s first released single) explores the trap of legacy. Its powerful vocals feel almost like a self-help audiobook, whispered over a traditional hip-hop beat. It’s a calming number, that intones the album’s mantra — living for the future is an easy way to miss your life. 

As a whole, the album lives in its own sonic universe. The percussive nature of rap rides the smooth drone of house music, then opens up into choral pop revelation. Each track offers something distinct and new. It’s catchy without being formulaic. It suggests genres without ever falling into them. 

Lyrically, Young Fathers are never caught trying to make a point or imparting a message. It careens in and out what it is to feel your own life as years of memory and meaning compound within you. “You either sink or swim, all or nothing”. 

There’s an attention to detail in Heavy Heavy that never gets too lost in the technical – though the album is a technical feat of unique and baffling precision. Fathers honor its instinct, which is what makes their music so full of joyous abandon. They’re not trying to sound like anyone. In an industry that seems more concerned with producing mimicable hits, Young Fathers does something truly inimitable.

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The trio have been on the road for some time now, first with Massive Attack through Europe and now North America with solo shows and through major festivals. Last weekend the Scottish trio played a show at Fortune Sound Club in Vancouver.

Fortune is one of those venues that has an end time for listed shows. If you don’t guestimate your arrival correctly you might actually miss a show, people have done it, for real. The show invite promised Young Father to arrive with guests so to be safe, so as to not miss anything potentially mind-blowing, we arrived quite early. For reasons that will remain a mystery to me none of the guests showed. For what felt like hours the room was slowly packing in to the sounds of the house DJ recycling through old tracks and Tame Impala albums. But just as patience, and personal space, began to wear out Young Fathers took the stage.

With the first beats of the drum intro the energy began to rise in the room. Bankole opened the set with “No Way” and went straight into “Feasting” after. The track opens quite gently, but as soon as the chorus hits things get real – electric, magnifying. Seeing “Feasting” live was what I imagine like learning how to walk is – shockingly surprising and gratifying. The rest of the set was equally powerful. Young Fathers worked through their repertoire like a roller-coaster up and down towards “Old Rock N Roll” and “Shame.”

Without any encore, possibly due to the venue’s time restrictions, Young Fathers wrapped up their set shortly after 10 p.m. The crowd stuck around a little longer hoping for more and likely coming off of the high that the show was. Having now seen them live I understand why Kate Tempest called them “fucking brilliant” – I concur.

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It’s a song that feels comfortable in your worldview even though it was missing up to that point. Young Fathers have done that with every song on their EP Get Up (with the exception of the radio version of the titular track “Get Up”).

“Get Up” begins in a tribal funk and is a suggestion to “Get up and do the right thing.” With two of the members from Africa (Liberia and Nigeria), this plays the part of an anthem for the growing attitude of African cooperation and success. (Other examples of this are K’naan’s contribution to the World Cup so many years ago, and an optimistic view of Uganda taking an interest in the problems of South Sudan.) The track is an energetic jaunt – as an anthem should be. One thing done exceptionally well by Young Fathers is that the voices that contribute to the song (and there are three here: two vocalists and one instrumentalist) never clash, building together instead to create an atmosphere of uniqueness. This track is the party with the social conscience.

“Better” continues the aggressive vocals with near-violent instrumentals. Young Fathers work without evident samples, instead producing discordant sounds that establish the foundation for dark lyrics. “Better” isn’t about being better, it’s a dark passage filled with dark magic, “come come, baby let the lord in/that’s a bad juju” and vicious attacks. Something revolutionary is happening with these two tracks, a call to action, but with a speech ready to show the realities of living. “Better” is violent, but a reflection of life that is not glossed over. “Better” isn’t about rap skill prowess and self-boasting about how great a group Young Fathers is. “Better” is an invocation that, in order to make things better, you have to know what better is and what it isn’t.

“Outlaw” is my favourite track. It summarises my confusion and growing passion for the band. “Outlaw” is a suggestion of greatness, hinting at other bands, the beginning is Pink Floyd, the discordant singing is TV on the Radio, but instead of getting lost in homage, Young Fathers have elevated the sound, as if touching some objective music. “Futures looking good/the past is looking sharper…living in my habitat/I can do better than that.” A military march in the background, subdued vocals telling stories of coming back from war, “Outlaw” is the psychological reality of the revolutionary story we’ve been subject to, ending with “Yeah the tongue travels/When it unravels.” Even a close look at the choice of words gives a suggestion that this is important hip hop, or at the very least, trying to be important.

The EP concludes where we began, but this time with 15 seconds shorn off, as though, even in our optimism of victory, we’ve lost a little something to get there.

Get Up is out on January 27 via Big Dada.

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