JUJU

Everything is connected. Not just in the grand scheme of things - politically, culturally, socially,... - but also in the colourful universe of Karen Willems. A lifelong quest for profound experiences through organizing sound led to the crucial Terre Sol-series, four tapes released in 2020. Out of that fertile well, Grichte (2022) was born. A double LP that presented Willems as an original explorer as well as a committed bandleader, it was her boldest statement to date.

While the first (solo) album halfalready received a follow-up in K A A P M I J (2023), another tape release that suggested there's still a lot of ground left to uncover, Juju continues the work done on the second album half, with the Terre Sol Four quartet: Willems' voice, drums, percussion objects, keyboards and field recordings accompanied by the saxes of Marc De Maeseneer, Vincent Brijs and John Snauwaert. It was already something to behold on Grichte, swerving from introspective exploration to expressionist riff rock and semi-Dadaist avant-garde.

On Juju, the four-piece digs even deeper and the results are utterly spellbinding. One of the many attractions of Willems' recent work is that it combines relentless artistic experimentation with a commitment to broader socio-political issues. In essence, the artist tries to set up a discussion with her surroundings, sending out musical invitations to connect and participate, reminding ourselves of responsibilities that are too easily forgotten in these hectic, self-centered times. The refugee crisis is one, ecology awareness another, and it's hard not to consider "Voor De Stranden Verdrinken" ("Before The Beaches Drown") a caustic warning. Things need to change.

As said earlier, the music on Juju remains as adventurous as before, but this time around, the playing feels even more confident, diverse and punchy. If the album opener accentuates its urgency with a throbbing pulse and reed sirens, "Tako Deli" continues with rich vocal arrangements, roaring saxes and sweeping melodies. What follows strikes with vigor and consistency: "Nuuki" is as dense as it is infectious, while "Fuzzy Williams" manages to combine Ellingtonian abundance with Swans-like preaching.

And there's more, much more. Eccentricity and playfulness ("The Woo Woo Room, Dance Back In Style", "In Open Veld") go hand in hand with smoldering exercises in tension and release ("Koortsdromen") and a ridiculously infectious call for connection in antisocial times ("Come Vai"). Guest contributions by Nabou Claerhout, Kapinga Gysel, Esther Lybeert and Filip Wauters enrich the band's sound considerably. By the time you reach album closer "When Daytime Lands", Willems takes you on a short trip through that eerie soundscape-land she previously explored.

In short: Juju fits perfectly in Willems' output. Also: in the coherent oeuvre it has become, it is perhaps her most consistent release yet. It's infectious as hell, carefully crafted, packs a punch and more accessible than ever before. It's the sound of an artist at the peak of her powers, not just expanding her range, but digging deeper with obvious glee. It's not just intriguing; it's inspiring to witness.