Sinkane & Ghost Funk Orchestra

It’s easy to be angry in moments like now. And that’s OK. But it takes courage to turn that anger into productive energy. The previous Sinkane album, 2017’s Life and Livin’ It, was released at a very crazy time: things like the Muslim ban, police shooting unarmed people of color, massive corruption in my native Sudan, fake news, Donald Trump, Brexit and so many other calamities all really forced me to think about my place in the world as a musician. I began to think about how I could use my music in a constructive way — not only to help myself but to help others who feel frustrated and powerless.

I’ve made a lot of music out of my life story but I’ve always kept things vague enough that anyone listening to my music could relate to it on their own terms. And yet I have to admit that I never truly felt satisfied with that. I eventually realized that, in order to truly connect with other people, I first needed to connect with myself on a deeper level than before.

Throughout the making of my new album I kept asking myself the same question: “As an immigrant to America, where do I belong?” So, during the writing process, I worked mainly by myself so that I could ensure the most honest and personal answers to that question.

At some point, I discovered the French word dépaysé, which basically means “to be removed from one’s habitual surroundings.” By extension, it means to be disoriented, homeless. That’s a feeling I relate to very much in these times — and I’m not the only one who feels this way. That word gave me clarity and made the journey inward that much more exciting.

So here we are. Dépaysé is the story of an immigrant’s journey of self-discovery in the Trump era.  The music is loud and raw, and it’s bursting with an energy unlike anything I’ve ever done before. The album starts with “Everybody,” an anthem of inclusion. Every day we wake up to another horror story about racism, and it’s left many of us angry, confused and frustrated. But we can change the news for the better.  We can show people that a multicolored world is a beautiful one. Celebrating our differences yields beauty in life. And that takes… everybody. On “Everyone” I continue that line of thought to its logical conclusion: love is the key to helping us understand one another.

I confront my insecurities with identity on songs like “Ya Sudan,” “Dépaysé” and “The Searching.” Truly understanding one’s duality means seeing beyond where you came from: let go of any definition that others put on you and then you can truly see the beauty of your life experience. This, along with the rest of Dépaysé, has given me peace. I’m no longer confused about the duality of my Sudanese and American identities. Now I accept it.

I want Sudanese kids to see a person like them as a positive role model in the arts. And to everyone, I want to make it clear that the world is a better place because of our differences. We’re all strangers in this ever-stranger land of America. We are all the American Dream.

Best,
Ahmed Gallab

Each song on Ghost Funk Orchestra’s 3rd album, A New Kind of Love, resonates like the soundtrack to a scene from an imaginary movie. The music could score a romantic drama, an action thriller, or a modern twist on a classic film noir. The spare, cascading vocals accentuate the lush instrumental orchestrations composed, performed, arranged and produced by multi-instrumentalist Seth Applebaum, whose latest brainchild was conceived and conceptualized during The Great Pause of 2020, a time of tension, bewilderment and isolation. Evoking the grooviness of an era which preceded his arrival on earth, Applebaum draws upon sonic devices of mid-century exotica and the succinct but dense arranging style of the leaders of the pop orchestras which dominated the hit parades of the 60s and early 70s. He blends impressions of this bygone era with an expression of his actual experiences as a young filmmaker coming of age in the 21st century, citing influences such as Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings and Antibalas. A New Kind of Love encompasses a reverence for the past without attempting to recreate it.

In the tradition of the “production forward” discographies of such record makers as David Axelrod and the Mizell Brothers, it’s easy to visualize Applebaum as a “mad doctor” figure, hunkered down in a studio channeling this musical representation of his inner world into the 12 compositions which make up A New Kind of Love. His writing stretches his psyche to explore a terrain in which to capture emotional notes of love going well, love gone sour, manifesting love songs based in ghostly affairs. While the studio is obviously a wondrous happy place of experimentation and creativity for Applebaum, he’s a band guy too (having actually fronted punk outfit The Mad Doctors). Applebaum has the wherewithal to bring his dreamy material to the 10 piece all star Ghost Funk Orchestra, leading them to breathe life into this sophisticated body of work which heralds the celebration of a new era for the group. Ghost Funk Orchestra will be touring in concert this summer and fall to celebrate the release of A New Kind of Love, an album which is sure to stand the test of time.

Ghost Funk Orchestra began as bandleader Seth Applebaum’s lo-fi recording project in 2014. They have been playing as part of New York City’s psych-rock and soul scenes, but have only just recently released their debut album, A Song for Paul. Five years might seem like a long time from a band’s conception to the release of their debut album, but A Song for Paul is clearly worth the wait.

While Ghost Funk Orchestra and A Song for Paul is Applebaum’s project, he uses nearly 20 musicians to realize his vision. The group consistently find the groove while successfully negotiating Applebaum’s detours into some combination of jazz/prog/psych rock that occurs in nearly every tune.

A Song for Paul is dedicated to Applebaum’s grandfather, Paul Anish, whose love of music was a huge influence on young Seth. But the spirit of another great music lover/music maker hovers over A Song for Paul as well, and that would be Isaac Hayes.

The Hayes connection is obvious in two specific songs. “Walk Like a Motherfucker”, the first full track after a short album-opening introduction, establishes the stoned 1970s funk feel that dominates the album. Although there are no backup singers telling vocalist Laura Gwynn to shut her mouth when she gets to that certain word. It seems likely Black Moses would have approved. And then, of course, another track is titled, “Isaac Hayes”, though it does not appear to be literally about Isaac Hayes