»Country« by Cleo Reed | Latest US political pop against divide and rule

Before we begin with the music, a brief detour to the culture war, which continues to complicate social struggles. There is perhaps little that divides and paralyzes the left in Western countries as much in the long term as the opposition between identity and class politics, constructed as insurmountable. A contemporary form of divide and rule. The rulers, still a fairly homogenous group—despite all the internal class fluctuations and developments, which, however, never take the form of self-destructive struggles—rejoice. The ruled wear themselves out, and eventually, everyone melts away in 50-degree heat, and the poorest, of course, first.

On the album "Country" by African-American singer* Cleo Reed from New York, there are pieces that, taken together, represent something like a contemporary form of political song. This is also because the lyrics explore class consciousness, labor struggle, feminism, and queerness side by side and repeatedly intersect, as if they were part of one and the same struggle. Which they are.

So far, "Country" has only been released as a download and stream, as a self-release, without a label. But "self-release" is fitting. The music has a liberating effect in all sorts of ways. Reed draws on the radically political current of American folk tradition, as with Woody Guthrie , for example. And from there, with twelve songs, he explores the history of Black music in the USA, at least the parts that have been articulated in song form. Hip-hop, R&B, blues, soul – on the first half of the album, held together primarily by acoustic and other guitars that form the framework, always tender, but never fragile.

The album's second half becomes more beat-driven. The lyrics are dominated by labor and class struggles, and the fight against male domination and heteronormativity, all seen through the eyes and sung by a Black queer artist. The opener, "Salt n' Lime," is a classic evocation of the suffering of alienated labor and exploitation in precarious jobs: "Life on the clock's like eating with your eyes." Then it's a party to get rid of the filth ("Tonight every drink's on me"), before finally launching into a kind of self-empowerment folk mantra: "I'm always good / for putting my Black queer ass first."

The piece lasts just under nine minutes and contains much of what makes Reed's music so radically idiosyncratic and surprising. The plucked acoustic piece transforms seamlessly, in a single flow, into a class-struggle soul-R&B-hip-hop hybrid. As mentioned, Reed amalgamates quite a few things in her music, but since nothing is montaged here; rather, everything—genres, voices, instruments—continuously flows into and out of each other, the music doesn't have a crossover feel. Instead, it seems like a homogenous image, in which everything deviant and strange can find its place.

The intermingling on the sound level, which always radiates a tender and thus solidarity-based tone (which becomes explicit at the very latest in "Strike!", recorded with rapper Billy Woods, and in "No Borders"). The sound aesthetic finds its counterpart in the body and other politics articulated on "Country." These revolve around solidarity and the celebration of stubbornness. In the connection of both, not merely asserted but made tangible in the music, lies the key to the political beauty of this album, which is rich in beauty.

Cleo Reed: »Cuntry« (self-released – available for example on bandcamp.com)