Wreckage of the Past by John Keenan (album)

Wreckage of the Past by John Keenan comes like the man who has come to the room after a long silence wearing, banging, and without smoothing the corners. The project, which the Arizona-based rapper who cut his teeth in Great Bend, Kansas, has been pitching as a fully self-produced statement, has been hyped on the channels of Keenan in pre-orders and with constant drumming of press coverage. What comes out on release is an 18-23 track statement depending which outlet you read, a project that Keenan himself describes as a long-haul creative exorcism constructed out of five years of work and honed by severe isolation.

At the very outset the album makes a statement: few partners, maximum authority. Keenan writes, produces, arranges, and mixes the content that alternates between boombap weight, piano-driven balladry and horn-stabbed funk, all the time with verses that hang on the subject of addiction, patriarchy, heartbreak, and national identity. The promotional copy and interviews emphasize the no features strategy; that solitude allows Keenan to devote himself to one voice amid shape-shifting instrumentals and the outcomes are convincing and inconsistent that, in this case, would be the point.

In case there is a line you will keep playing over on the record it is the insistence of Keenan to tell the truth according to him. He says that the album will not go viral; it is made so that one should still have hope that there will be someone who will go to the records time after time. That vow is reflected in the tones: the slap bass cuts through orchestral sound-waves, the keys are found under the confession verses, and the percussion either is snapping like a classroom ruler or is driving like a funerary march. Other pieces of music are painstakingly styled, others are ragged on purpose – either way, it emphasizes the claustrophobic verisimilitude of the record. Wreckage of the Past is a listening experience that requires patience. Be with it the first third and it will pay in lines and refrains that hold the tumultuous emotional heart.

The story of John Keenan is a vintage school rap resume with the countryside existentialism. He grew up in the Great Bend area, Kansas and has recorded mix tapes, CDs and a consistent DIY ethic in his catalog over the last few years based in Phoenix. He has over twenty years of output, which relies on the contemplation of bars and an ear of a producer to arrange the musical pieces that tend to wink at funk, soul and movie themes. The production of Keenan has never been above rooted in that two-sidedness to emcee and architect, which, as it were, is the home of Wreckage of the Past.

Inspirations on the record sound not so much like namedrops as they are likely to sound like DNA: the gravity and swing of old-school boom-bap, the harmony patience of piano ballads by singer-songwriters and the touches of brassy protest music. Interviews and press releases mention over and over a five-year making process and a curt, sharp recording time-span – decisions that are indicative of an artist who has sacrificed finishes to narrative sense. Talking about the work, Keenan is not concerned with trends, but with creating the document which will still have a sense in several years, a bandaged mirror of personal failure and of political irritation.

Wreckage of the Past is essentially a book of accounts: counting injuries, judgments and the social environment that influenced both. Keenan weaves her own backlash of failed relationships, drug wars, temporary spiritual crisis together with mass cultural critique. It is not a document of easy answers; it is a reasoned plea of responsibility, of facing the ugly aspects of one life. Musically, Keenan applies arrangements in supporting ideas. Piano ballads are confessions; bass-focused and tighter songs are full of indignation, and those that are constructed upon the line of sampled voices and speeches are connoted with civic seriousness.

Specific attention is paid to the political twists of the album. One song such as the one mentioned as ” We The People Mix” is an anthem of belief, piano-based and filled with sampling of speeches of people and it encapsulates the greater idea of Keenan, he would rather argue than remain quiet. Other edits, like the more personal, Love Her Smile, and the personal/conversationally shot, Red Pill, bring the project inward and puts the masses in contact with the personal. What comes out is an album that exists in multiple registers: certain songs are preaching, others apologetic, others spit game, and some exist as a place to be in pain. It is one of those projects that welcome criticism since it does not make it easy to approach.

Tracklist & breakdown

“Love Her Smile” is a subtle reminder that a melody can also carry memories of the past.