Novelty seems to be the running theme on “Gung Ho Hum”, Simeon Flick’s ninth solo release.

New Blue Chair Studio location, recording gear, and software. All brand new material. And a new genre added to the sonic palette:

Rap.

That’s right––rap.

This might seem like a curveball out of left field considering Flick kicked off his solo career as a folk artist.

And one might feel compelled to offer caveats to yet another caucasian attempting to co-opt a feloniously misappropriated genre, citing a litany of aural affronts as a head-on-a-pike scarecrow.

But considering his obsessive interest in mining new types of rhyming couplets from the fecund seam of the English language, his progressively increasing R & B leanings of the last decade, his long-term absorption of and respect for the best in the genre, and the desire to experiment and grow native to most lifelong artists, this creative expansion is hardly surprising.

And rest assured; Flick has conducted the three brief hip-hop experiments in his own laboratory, eschewing the stereotypical phosphates of misogynistic braggadocio, shallow gangland bombast, ebonics, and sampling in favor of organic narrative compounds that focus on refracting Flick’s introverted anxieties through the genre’s compelling linguistic prism.

Whether he’s plumbing the inconsolate depths of empathic depression in the middle of the swinging space epic ‘Singularity’, proudly bemoaning the onset of advancing years in the tailfeather-shaking ‘Old Dog’, or decrying the absurdities of isolation from a society stuck on quotidian repeat in the mammoth ‘Might Be Losing My Mind’, Flick puts his own twist on a care-worn genre, hearkening back to the flow of hip-hop’s ‘90s-era watershed.

As much as the newness may stand out for long-term acolytes, “Gung Ho Hum” still bears the signature trademarks common to much of Simeon Flick’s work. There’s the earnest, topical, poignant, confrontational, erudite, often humorous lyrics verging on poetry delivered by his soulful vintage tenor, vocal hooks midwifed from the catchiest wombs of mainstream pop, the pan-virtuosic musicality of Flick playing and programming all the instruments, the danceable intensity of maximum R & B pockets, the subtly incorporated progressive rock of odd-time grooves and breaks, and the accessibly innovative harmonic structuring that stretches tonality just enough to excite the musos without alienating the three-chords-and-the-truth masses.

There’s also the usual wide variety of production styles and sub-genres, with the multi-layered dance-rock proselytizing of ‘Bad Lot’, ‘Oh Please’, and ‘Ordinary Man’ contrasting synergistically with the stripped-down, rug-cutting R & B commentaries ‘Wake Up’, ‘Careful What You Wish For’, and ‘Shocked But Not Surprised’, all dovetailing seamlessly with the lavish, head-bobbing, Latin-flavored grunge-prog set-piece, ‘STFU (3579)’.

When a disenfranchised loner––into which COVID 19 has transformed us all––gets fed up with their inability to affect positive change on a persistently adverse world, they eventually attempt to vent that dissatisfaction outward. Luckily for us, Flick has this exorcising music through which to channel his unmistakably bristling intensity. Listen and vent right along while grooving out to this dance-party protest album, Flick’s crossover reaction to the crises of the present and recent past.

“Gung Ho Hum” is now available at premium outlets where digital music is sold and streamed. File under Alternative R & B Pop Rock.