Moor Mother scares the living hell out of Sumac’s mastermind Aaron Turner. Or to be more precise, Camae Ayewa’s 2016 LP Fetish Bones was listed by Turner among the records that made a profound impact on him, with how caustic and honest Moor Mother’s words permeated every corner of that release. Spring forward to half a decade, and we now have the fruit of their first collaboration, The Film. Billed as an Original Motion Picture Soundtrack to a movie that’s non-existent, one could argue that the news and the plight of the Black community IS the movie itself, and the meeting of these kindred spirits provides the apt accompaniment to a story filled with everyday horrors, and the unwavering souls who keep fighting against all odds.
“I want my breath back”, Camae declares as “Scene 1” goes underway. The nebulous improv track sans drums is held together by Moor Mother’s defiant poetry as she demands to be seen as a human being, powerful and to the point. “Scene 2: On the Run” is anchored by Brian Cook’s ominous single note thud and Ayewa’s frantic delivery, before the whole band explodes on the second half of the song, forceful and authoritative, with Aaron Turner’s stentorian bark leading the charge. Truth be told, Camae is already up there with the likes of Public Enemy and Bob Marley in terms of relevance and her fight for the rights of black people everywhere in the world.
“Hard Truth” features ethereal singing by Candice Hoyes, which then leads to “Scene 3”, a midtempo steamroller of fuzzy EGC guitars and messianic oration. A brief respite in the form of “Scene 4” had Camae declaring that “Nobody told me, love has been reinstated”, the vitriol and sarcasm almost palpable in every utterance as guitars wail in the distant background. Electro the smoking robot from 1937 is sampled in “Camera”, an improvisational piece mixed with news soundbites and pleads to the listener to ‘Don’t look away, let the cameras do the talking’. Sumac has been dipping their toes in improv that they have become masters of the craft by this time, their instantaneous compositions always on par with their structured passages, the fine balance treaded every single time.
“Scene 5: Breathing Fire” ends this maelstrom of protest music with the strongest thunder and lightning storm. Moor Mother’s impassioned pleas for solidarity and survival have always been full of heart and heat, and with Sumac propping her rhetoric with piledriving passages, the results have been a hundred times more incendiary. The Film is a parable of the times, a lone beacon of light in a world steadily being consumed by darkness that keeps hope and humanity alive, through art and ideals that refuse to give in and give up.