With the advent of streaming, music has never been more accessible. The assumption might’ve been that artistic creativity would thrive in a technological era unburdened by label demands, industry cynicism or trend-chasing. Commercial interests however, continue to outpace creative ones. Rather than fostering experimentation, the streaming system has rewarded immediacy. Playlist-friendly singles and algorithm-driven exposure continues to leave little room for wider expressions of musical exploration.
Cohesive, concept-driven records feel increasingly rare despite the conditions being ripe for just that level of experimentation. The album, once considered the definitive artistic statement, is now more of an afterthought.
Offering a welcome exception is The Hours: Morning, the new release from Brooklyn-based multi-instrumentalist Cautious Clay (real name Joshua Karpeh). A compact, genre-blurring song cycle, the album unfolds across a single stretch of time from 5am to midday with each song representing an hour in between. It’s a concept album in the truest sense, exploring the liminal space between night and day, sleep and wakefulness, clarity and confusion. Guided by Karpeh’s unmistakable falsetto and fluid blend of R&B, funk, jazz, and indie soul, The Hours: Morning makes a quiet but persuasive case for the return of the album as an art form.
“Tokyo Lift (5am)” opens the record at 5 a.m., still teetering on the edge of the night before. Karpeh details the hazy memories of a night out at a karaoke bar. Glossy, swirling instrumentation wrapped in grooving basslines and a haze of jazzy keys provide the soundtrack to the woozy comedown. Part last hurrah and reluctant surrender, “Tokyo Lift” is a funky, euphoric tune that captures the sleepy limbo of exiting night and entering morning.
Laced with sleepy tenacity, Karpeh delivers one of the album’s catchiest hooks right off the bat: “They said, ‘Stay awhile’, We at the best part of wasting time”. It’s a line that’s been lodged in my head since first listen. The follow-up line “You’re in denial, But I’m not talkin’ ’bout a river” should be a groaner, but Karpeh sells it with just the right amount of charm to let it slide. As far as openers go, “Tokyo Lift” is a killer.
If “Tokyo Lift” was the ride home at dawn, “No Champagne”(6am) is flicking the lights on in an empty apartment. Built on a swinging acoustic rhythm and a syrupy-sweet melody, Karpeh delivers some of his best writing here opening with the vivid: “Whether it’s morning or the night, I see the waves taking their shape, then your skin hits the light, I get a feeling I can’t shake”. The chorus leans closer to a traditional ballad with a soft and devastating “But when my eyes close, There’s no champagne, There’s no real reason to celebrate”.
It is a wonderful subversion of the opener, and a beautiful song to boot. The two openers land like a one-two punch, appropriate considering Cautious Clay’s name plays on Muhammad Ali’s former moniker, Cassius Clay.
At 7am, “Traffic” diverts once again. The thumping pop-rock elements create a more frenetic pace. This is compounded by the opening line “Every morning felt like traffic, brain full of static, words automatic”. The themes of mental clutter are also mirrored in the production. The chorus is a comparatively beautiful and spacious moment, with a cathartic switch up. The subtle modern country touches contradicts the verses, but in a really satisfying way. Clay’s jazz, soul and RnB roots also blend into the pop rock style to create something really interesting.
The saxophone solo sends the track off in style, before dissolving into “The Plot” (8am).Here, A-ha style drums drive the track while Karpeh flexes his full vocal range, leaping from raspy verses to glowing falsettos. The singer muses “So who you thinking of, when the plot get tough?”. It’s another well written, highly infectious tune. The track is proof that the conceptual nature of the album hasn’t gotten in the way of the artists’ capacity to make great music. Sacrificing craft for concept is often easy to do, but at the midway point of the album each song has thoroughly deserved its inclusion.
“Promises” (9am) eases into the late morning with a countdown and a bright acoustic guitar riff. The artists soaring falsettos and the acoustic guitar riff provide the touches that make this one tick. The chorus lines “I can tell that you don’t make promises, but I can’t let you go” are among the best deliveries on the album. “Father Time (10am)” provides another genre hopper that finds itself caught between The Weeknd and Kings of Leon. On the reverse, follow up “Amber (11am) dips into a heavy a funk sound.
The closing track, “Smoke Break (12pm)” is ambient and feather-light. It’s the sound of midday looming and the day beginning to blur. As the fog of morning finally lifts, and with it, so does the album.
Clocking in at under twenty-five minutes, The Hours: Morning is an exercise in brevity, but not in haste. Each track stands on its own, but taken together, they form a cohesive mood piece. Despite a slight drop off in final third, those song are only lesser relative to their unbelievably strong counterparts unfairly frontloaded at the beginning of the album. There aren’t any bad or lazy tracks to be found here.
Ultimately, this won’t be for everyone. Conceptual releases are rarely universal products after all. The genre hopping on offer should provide something for every ear, but also might throw off those looking for a cohesive vibe. For those willing catch up for breakfast, The Hours: Morning is a sunrise-soaked gem. With a little bit of spectacle and whole lot of stillness, Karpeh invites us into a particular stretch of time that feels both ephemeral and emotionally dense. In a music landscape often obsessed with virality, this is a record that encourages presence.
It may not fight for your attention, but it earns it and holds onto it until midday.
FOUR AND A HALF STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
The Hours: Morning is out today. Grab it HERE
Photo credit: Travys Owen
