M.I.A.

M.I.A.'s debut album Arular was an instant classic, a brainy yet populist hip-hop hybrid that garnered rave reviews and an entirely justified tidal wave of hype. It's the sort of album that nearly guarantees a sophomore slump, but despite the odds, the British/Sri Lankan MC has returned with a follow-up that delivers on the promise. The fundamental elements of M.I.A.'s style—colorful electronic textures, strong yet slightly decrepit beats, a distinct vocal style blending hip-hop, ragga and punk—are in evidence on Kala, but the formula has been tweaked, resulting in a record that feels like a far more aggressive and extreme version of Arular.

On the acrid opening number "Bamboo Banga," her rhythmic sneer sounds as though it has been filed down into a razor-sharp shiv, lending the bleak, minimal electro song a seductive malevolence. Tracks such as "Bird Flu" and "Boyz," meanwhile, are built upon manic, clanging beats that sound like they're coming from severely malfunctioning drum machines, and even relatively mellow cuts like "20 Dollar" and "XR2" feature harsh, droning tones that seem to slowly dig through the listener's skull.

The revolutionary politics that informed Arular are intensified on Kala, but the glamorization of leftist extremism is toned down in favor of songs that shine a light on the ugly underbelly of globalization. As implied by its rowdy, confrontational centerpiece "World Town," Kala is a record that consistently takes a "big picture" view on economics, culture and politics, with M.I.A. making a point of speaking up for a Third World community that's seething with discontent, "Look at what you did, you done it before / Every little dollar just keeps me down more / I never had you on my side... Why they tell me different / When they make me explodified."

The only mis-steps on the album come when she's paired off with special guests, such as the young Aboriginal rappers of the Wilcannia Mob on "Mango Pickle Down River," or hip-hop super-producer Timbaland, who supplies a fabulous beat for "Come Around" which he then tarnishes with a sexed-up rhyme that seems somewhat goofy in the context of M.I.A.'s caustic verses.

—Matthew Perpetua
08.23.07

Kala and Arular are similar in that they are both wildly vigorous and wholly enjoyable albums, generous with blunt-force beats, flurries of percussion, riotous vocals (with largely inconsequential lyrics), and fearless stylistic syntheses that seem to view music from half of the planet's countries as potential source material. But Kala nearly makes Arular seem tame in comparison, magnifying most of its predecessor's qualities as it remains bracingly adventurous. While it certainly sounds like a second M.I.A. album, nothing about it is stagnant. Made in piecemeal fashion while located in several countries, Kala involves a few co-producers: U.K. "dirty house" producer Switch is the primary collaborator, while Baltimore club don Blaqstarr, Diplo, and Timbaland assist M.I.A. on one or a couple tracks each. Further variety is added vocally, not only through M.I.A.'s numerous modes, but also through feature spots from Nigerian MC Afrikan Boy and a crew of young Aborigine rappers. Roughly half the album -- including the opening three-track sequence, which incorporates Jonathan Richman's "Roadrunner," samples from two Tamil-language film soundtracks, squawking chickens, (what sounds like) yelping children, and clustered rhythmic devices that boom, stab, clap, rattle, twitter, and sometimes even prance -- is more intense than anything on Arular. The tracks are so full of chaos and jagged noise that it is disarming to reach the relatively relaxed material, especially the two tracks that resemble actual songs. "Jimmy" is a rather faithful cover, willfully chintzy strings and all, of a flirtatiously lovelorn neo-disco number from the '80s Bollywood film Disco Dancer. "Paper Planes" has a sing-songy float to it, aided by the Clash's "Straight to Hell," though it also appropriates Wreckx-N-Effect's "Rump Shaker" while replacing "zoom-a-zoom-zoom-zoom" and "boom-boom" with sounds from shotguns and cash registers. Like the remainder of the album's best moments, it recalls the late Lizzy Mercier Descloux, another artist who made thrilling music by mixing cultures with respectful irreverence. Perhaps some of Arular's detractors knew M.I.A. was capable of this all along. ~ Andy Kellman, All Music Guide