Below the Teton mountain range in 2018, amongst the clean air and starry nights, a slew of artists held writing sessions and shared lyrics and joints while huddled around bonfires, far from the city lights and big reputations that surrounded them. It was a classic creative divination via nature scenario, headed by none other than Kanye West and hip-hop titans like Kid Cudi.
West, amidst a media frenzy at the time, oversaw multiple critically acclaimed projects during the camp, but his personal release, Ye, was ultimately out of focus.
But a moment of clarity was achieved, and it arrived during the soaring chorus on Ghost Town – an anthemic hook that cut through the cocoughany of periphery dramas, super-massive egos and ambitious projects that surrounded deliverant 070 Shake’s attendance.
Her voice, soulful and androgynous, aligns perfectly with disaffected yet optimistic listeners that croon alongside her – “And nothing hurts anymore / I feel kinda free.” Fresh-faced and uniquely named, 070 Shake made her name amongst the GOOD Music label with a single feature.
The question, then, was where would she go with her newfound freedom? Back in 2018, artists were reacting to tumultuous headlines and happenings, with politics and culture mixing and then clouding the perceptions of creators and consumers. Shake had stepped onto the stage at an interesting time.
Fitting then, that her debut album releases in the first month of 2020, a number that feels futuristic, and a time that is marked by new beginnings and clear intentions. The album artwork depicts a cyborg version of Shake, tethered by wires and cables that simultaneously keep her alive and hold her back. It’s a beautiful representation of a genre-bending hip-hop record that feels fresh.
Modus Vivendi, directly translated to “a way of living,” or also to represent the coming together of conflicting parties, is perhaps a remark aimed at her fame’s origin, but more importantly, a work that celebrates the oscillation between love and fear, togetherness and isolation.
Tracks are full of strings and orchestras that rise and decompress, Shake’s autotuned voice drifting along through spaces full of synths that lift-off and choirs that you might hear in sci-fi films or electro-trance songs from acts like Orbital.
Shake’s way of living is certainly unique, as the joining of such elements with hip-hop, soul and R&B is unlike anything happening in the mainstream currently. The combination of cinematics and drama is quiet and spacious in some parts, then bombastic and loud the next.
Take “The Pines,” an anxious and dark picture of someone predicting the end of what was a loving relationship. Shake’s voice whines and then pitches upwards like a broken robot, before strings enter left stage and hurl Shake into a frantic chanting that then leads into the next track, “Guilty Conscious,” wherein her worst fears are realized alongside upbeat 80’s synthesizers.
In the video for the track, masculinity postures and attempts to account for emotional voids, but ultimately fails. For this reason, Shake’s adoption of 80’s nostalgia succeeds because it contrasts the failed ideas of yesteryear with the yearning this generation has for a brighter future.
Part of that brighter future includes refocusing on what is most important in life. In “Nice to Have,” Shake rejoices in the potential emotional vulnerability has to provide what so many crave, “It’s nice to have someone to hold you, Tell you they chose you, Someone you can’t fool ’cause they know you.”
Isolation is addressed on “Under the Moon,” wherein Shake admits to behaving haphazardly in her lovers’ absence, looking up at the moon and forgiving herself, “Not far even when you leave, what happen under the moon, it stays under the moon.” A section of horns swell to accentuate the chorus, like something you’d hear during a monster reveal in a Ridley Scott movie.
In recognizing infidelity and trust as a point of contention previously, “Terminal B” makes the pursuit of love and connection all the more painful. “And then I start to wonder, Why can’t I feel it with another?” Shake’s voice reverberates more than anywhere else on the album, a heavy synth appearing to build the arrangement into a five-minute long emotional monster.
There are points where a xenith is never reached – tracks like “Microdosing” contribute to a variance in sound but are ultimately meandering. And while comparisons to Kanye West might be cheap, especially considering West’s producer Mike Dean’s involvement, some tracks feel like empty vessels that need a clearer identity and direction.
One need not worry about the direction Shake is taking. Weak tracks suffer at the hands of thoughtful reservation. Contemporaries like FKA Twigs brilliantly toe the line between experimental aggression and softness, a balance rarely found in an artists’ formative years.
Modus Vivendi is a beautiful flight through the universe, a meditative and grand experience of an album that is none more evidenced by than the final track “Flight319”. Airy synths open the atmosphere and glide the listener along as Shake sings, “I’ll never know / How long I’ll stay, how far I’ll go.”
She settles us down, reassured that the potential the future holds will make you want to stick around to see what happens next.
Originally published in The Daily Titan on February 11, 2020.