LISTEN: Candice Monique – ‘Free Me: The Mixtape’

Look, I must confess that I’ve been on a bit of an urban music trip, in part due to the rediscovery of my childhood. I’ve been caught in the throes of late 90’s rub, to be exact. I’ve been immersed in the funk of Erykah, the soul of D’Angelo, and the social critique of Lauryn Hill. I know that 90’s nostalgia has reached its peak, but I can’t help but treat myself to the luxuries of the golden age.

But what’s thrown me over the past year is the degree to which the archetypal ‘indie’ music has embraced it. With Grimes and Collarbones brandishing their Mariah fandom without fear, my typical aversion to admitting these rather ‘guilty’ pleasures have largely been made redundant. The Bloc Party/Horrors-toting teen that I once was has retreated back to the bosom of once cringe-worthy titles such as “Oooooohhhh…On the TLC Trip”. And with Destiny’s Child reforming sometime this year, this rediscovery couldn’t have come at a better time.

But alas, in an Australian context, the urban music canon has fared a little less favourably. Nationally, we don’t need to be reminded of the stigma of Australian hip-hop. But in recent months, I’ve definitely felt that there’s been a groundswell in whatever constitutes Australian ‘urban’ music. You just need to look the innovation of Hiatus Kaiyote or Oscar + Martin to name but a few of the successes of late.

Admittedly, I’ve been relatively Melbourne-centric, and here I go again, with Melbourne-via-Adelaide future soul/hip-hop artist, Candice Monique. Originally of Candice Monqiue and the Optics fame, the vocalist moves from traditional soul roots to a mix tape representative of a number of urban influences. Throughout the 14 tracks, you will undoubtedly hear parallels with the likes of Erykah Badu especially on tracks like ‘How to F*ck’, produced by intriguing Melbourne musician, Billy Hoyle.

However, underneath all these lofty comparisons, it’s clear that Monique has got something going on with the spoken word. Her poetic skill is laced throughout these tracks, not just articulated as hip-hop, but pure poetry that could give any budding SLAM poet a run for their money.

So, to all unashamed lovers of urban music, treat yourself and give this a listen. And to all others, stop pretending that you don’t sneak a little Erykah in with your Alt J.

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