Genesis Owusu - Smiling with No Teeth Review
It’s hip-hop, synth punk, soul, funk, rock, and R&B, all buoyed by a punk ethos; the list of influences is extensive and kaleidoscopic but, instead of a mere patchwork, the result is a unique statement and a rewarding listen.
On his striking full-length debut album, Genesis Owusu is versatile, refreshing, and sometimes dangerous. He makes one hell of an introduction, to say the least. Across its 53-minute runtime, Smiling with No Teeth is both inwardly and outwardly reflective as it lays out an impassioned narrative to the listener. “As an artist, I feel like I'm just starting to turn some heads and break out,” Owusu told Apple Music. Well, many heads have turned by this point, and I’m sure that a few necks have suffered whiplash.
Most of the tracks are standouts. Early on, ‘The Other Black Dog’ is a sultry, uptempo synthwave track with a constantly rising tension. The beat warbles as we meet the first of the story’s two black dogs. This hound is representative of depression, and it’s a damn menace. Owusu relentlessly delivers fear and a sense of the walls closing in, to great effect. The song is alluring and danceable, and even though the darkness is palpable, it’s irresistible to turn away.
That leads to ‘Centrefold’, which oozes compulsion and consumption. It has the trappings of a love song. A light, jagged beat and a seemingly innocent first verse set the mood—but these are traps. Things suddenly dim in the second verse, when Owusu deepens his voice and bellows resonant lines like, “Imma seep into your bones,” and “Imma take your soul.” This dovetails into ‘Waitin’ on Ya,’ which features a slower and warmer groove, along with less terrifying expressions of adoration. The dog is putting on its most convincing seductive face in this pair of songs.
Then, a joyful realization emerges. ‘Don’t Need You’ is a buoyant and bouncing celebration of independence. A playful organ drives the song as Owusu skips down the street and, charismatically, tells his depression to piss off. The wildly catchy song is undoubtedly the most upbeat offering of the album. With its quick-stomp beat and clean riffs, ‘Drown’ is stylistically reminiscent of Born in the U.S.A.-era Springsteen. Album collaborator Kirin J. Callinan scowls his way through his verses, contrasting effectively with the portions sung by Owusu. Each vocalist serves a different tone and different message, reinforcing that dichotomy between depression and its sufferer.
‘Gold Chains’ is a smooth neo-soul offering, and is Owusu’s finest moment as an emcee. The lyrics illuminate the vicious tendencies of the music industry to churn through artists and points out the toll that this has on the mental health of these musicians. Continuing with the theme of facades, it’s bluntly laid out across the steady and scrambling instrumentation that acclaim and gold are the smiles that cover a toothless, chilling depression. The pace then slows for the title track, which is a plodding affair by this album’s standards. The sonic influence of Childish Gambino is strong here, while Owusu croons obvious truisms like “Everybody wants the help but they ain't lending a hand.”
Kicking off the latter half of the album is the stellar ‘I Don’t See Colour.’ Tribal percussion drives this minimalist examination of race and hypocrisy. In a blistering three minutes, Owusu unleashes a lifetime’s worth of frustration from not only racism itself, but also exhaustion from educating others on the topic. A vocal sample reminiscent of an exhale continually punctuates the song, appropriately enough. The mood on this one is pitch-black and thoroughly uninviting. Unlike the earlier tracks of the album, ‘Colour’ doesn’t have a front nor any gussied-up appearance. It’s unabashedly raw and direct.
‘Black Dogs!’ Sounds quite like an LCD Soundsystem rock song from the mid-2000s. It’s a frantic, quick glimpse into the day-to-day black experience, and gives the feeling of constantly looking behind one’s back. This gives way to the much stronger ‘Whip Cracker.’ At this point in the narrative, Owusu has crossed a threshold of frustration and doesn’t hold back lyrically. What begins with a simple kick drum morphs into a funky, guitar-driven ass-shaker. The groove here is comparable to a Gang of Four song, and the latter half of the song rises to a feeling of triumphant catharsis. The reverb-heavy ‘Easy’ creates a sensation of descent, or of slowly tumbling downward. The subject of deception is strong again here, as Owusu digs into the connection between the colonizer and the colonized in both a societal and in an interpersonal context.
We’re then treated to the gentle ‘A Song About Fishing’, which would be an ideal soundtrack for a scenic sunrise. Twinkling pianos are paired with a message of determination to create a placid and confident number. The denouement continues with ‘No Looking Back’, a silky, more conventional soul offering. Owusu gracefully and methodically makes it clear that he is grown, wiser, and ready for whatever’s next: “I can't drown in my blеssings / or float on my pride / no more waiting for this freedom, it's already been minе.”
But rather than ending things on such a purely optimistic wavelength, Owusu (wisely) elects to shut off the lights again. ‘Bye Bye’ is a dim reminder that the black dogs can’t ever be fully vanquished. Smiling with No Teeth is a thoroughly modern work that is not to be missed. It’s hip-hop, synth punk, soul, funk, rock, and R&B, all buoyed by a punk ethos; the list of influences is extensive and kaleidoscopic but, instead of a mere patchwork, the result is a unique statement and a rewarding listen. Genesis Owusu barks, bites and howls in equal measure. The songs are instantly memorable and the hooks are gripping. The themes of facade, deception, and masking resonate strongly, although blackness is the most captivating quality of the album. It’s exceptional to listen to Owusu intertwine racial pain and mental illness in such a skilful manner. Through it all, Smiling is a lively album, and an essential listen.