Nnamdï has never let us down, and he’s certainly not about to start now. But the Chicago legend is about to sit our asses down and command our full attention once again with his wildest, most emotional album since 2017’s Drool, which is kind of saying a lot. 2020’s Brat was an incredible reminder that Nnamdï wasn’t just a great instrumentalist – he was also a great songwriter with a gift for production.
Brat was still fresh on our mind when he inverted the recipe with 2021’s rocky, muscular Black Plight, which couldn’t have come at a more important and volatile time. Nnamdï switched it up again after that with a handful minimalist, electro-tinged singles and collabs with lynyn which ended up on last year’s Are You Happy?. But given his legendary level of productivity, it was only a matter of time before he pulled out all the stops again.
And now we’re here – as the warped guitars of “Ready to Run” fade in, you can tell we’re in for the full meal deal with Please Have a Seat. Nnamdï’s uncompromising yet poetic lyricism has always been one of his best talents, and it makes a fiery return by the time the intro turns into “Armoire.” Check it out below.
Clearly, the man’s rhythmic prowess as the drummer of Monobody, Para-Medics, and more comes through in everything he does, from the sprinklings of samples of “Touchdown” and random hard rock stabs of “Dibs.” It’s a bit cliche, but you can clearly tell within just a few tracks that Please Have a Seat is Nnamdï’s most mature album to date, and pushes the best of everything he’s done before into a more focused context. But make no mistake, there are still a few playful surprises here.
“Grounded” is a progressive pop bop, with strange vocoder vocals and disjointed, garage rock arrangements, featuring what sounds like a literal advertisement for chairs in the background. “Anxious Eater” features a manic math rock breakdown that lasts all of five seconds, before returning to its ruminative guitar roots. The electronic confessions of “Anti” are as heartbreaking as they are invigorating, and was a smart choice as a single. “I Don’t Wanna Be Famous” was a great single too, but it was classic Nnamdï. “Anti” drops any associated pretense and speaks its raw truth, a trait that Nnamdï seems to improve on with every release.
The wonky, low-key emotional trap of “Dedication,” ends up being one of the most anthemic bits of the album with its cathartic backend of gang vocals and repeated refrains. “Smart Ass” and “Benched” even seem to bring back the midwest math rock experimentation of Drool and Feckin Weirdo, but with the art-house execution of Brat.
Nnamdï’s chameleonic slide through genres has always felt like a main focus of the project. Not in an overly ostentatious way, just in a very talented way. Almost any song off of Please Have a Seat contains an emotional focus that just gives it that extra special something that’s never actually felt like it was missing, which highlights just how talented the man really is. But this shift in focus to ‘integrity’ or ‘clarity’ if you will, which Nnamdï contemplates openly here, elevates Please Have a Seat from something good into something truly great.
As the themes of “Ready to Run” come full circle on closer “Some Days,” you can’t help but feel like you’ve witnessed something special. It’s a familiar feeling when it comes to Nnamdï, but this just might be his best record yet.
We’ve got the album on repeat for the rest of the night with zero shame. Check out Nnamdï’s incredible discography on Bandcamp over here, and then buy us a coffee here for making sure Please Have a Seat made its way into your rotation. Not that you were gonna sleep on it… or were you? Coming up we’ve got At Home with Monsters, Millo, and more. Thanks for reading!