Seldom does an album catch a listener so off guard, enthralling and entertaining in equal measure. The Great Bailout is another in a string of confrontational triumphs for Moor Mother (Camae Ayewa), who was last heard on Aho Ssan’s Rhizomes. The collaborations continue with Mary Lattimore, C. Spencer Yeh and a host of independent luminaries united for a common cause: the exposure of colonialist atrocities by Britain. The central crime: the Slavery Abolition Act of 1833, which provided compensation to slave owners for the loss of “their property” while keeping unpaid slavery going for another four years. Moor Mother traces the history of the financial landfall not only to Britain’s architecture, but to the nation’s reigning politicians and corporations.The horror peaks in the heart of the album. “Death by Longitude” is the sort of track that makes one sit up and take notice. Beginning with shifts and creaks reminiscent of a slave ship, the track erupts with the incendiary truth. No colonialist is spared ~ “The Portuguese, the Dutch, the French, the Spanish, the Americans … all aboard.” And then the most frightening phrase: there’s no need to time travel here. Screams bellow in the background, similar to their use in the film “The Zone of Interest,” which deals with similar themes of sociopathic apathy. The music grows frantic. Who … builds … death … like … this?
In the subsequent “My Souls Been Anchored,” hammers against wood suggest the construction of yet another ship, contrasted by an African spiritual. In “Liverpool Wins,” Moor Mother calls out the churches, universities and stadiums built on the backs of the payoff, which totaled 20 million pounds then, 65 billion pounds now. The music is industrial, as frightening to the common listener as the sounds of slavery are to the enslaved. Once you step on the ship, you start dying.
It’s impossible not to connect “God Save the Queen” (feat. justmadice) to the song of the same name by the Sex Pistols, originally banned by the BBC. If anything, the new song is even more accusatory, and makes a greater historical case; fortunately for the monarchy, it’s not as catchy as the popular punk anthem. The opera-Test Dept.-esque “All the Money” (feat. Alya Al-Sultani), is also terrifying, and will probably miss Top of the Pops, but once it’s heard, it can’t be unheard: Tower of London, falling down, falling down. The contemporary parallels are international and inescapable: border disputes, violence against immigrants, exploited minorities, systems stacked against the poor. In a recent interview in The Guardian, Moor Mother declares, “somebody needs to tell the truth.”
The Great Bailout is hard to listen to and impossible to turn off; the collage of words and sounds is mesmerizing, to the extent that one can’t turn away. The album identifies some of the guilty, but not all, challenging listeners to ask uncomfortable questions: are we also implicit, as we profit off the atrocities of our ancestors? And are we creating new horrors of our own? (Richard Allen)