Conclave’s self-titled record is the sound of a summer party in New York City

I have this vivid memory of walking to pick up my oldest son from school in June of 2022. For various reasons, I was in a very bad place mentally. To make matters worse, it was brutally hot. I was depressed, angry at the world, sunburnt, and drenched in sweat. But as the second track is on concave, “Habla” settled into its groove, and I found myself strutting unconsciously. I wasn’t walking, I was moving through the streets in time with the music, just as a much-needed cool breeze blew in, and some scaffolding provided a building’s worth of shade. For a brief moment, I found myself smiling for the first time in a long time.

Conclave’s self-titled debut has been one of my favorite summer records ever since.

Look, the registry didn’t solve my problems. But for a little while, it made me feel lighter, and it made me smile. Its mix of Latin rhythms, funky bass, smooth vocals, and a dance floor vibe sounds like a sunny day in the city. concave It is quintessentially New York. While other summer records conjure barbecues on the beach or in the backyard, songs like “Habla” and “Perdón” conjure up sweaty asphalt and playing dominoes on the sidewalk. A conclave is the sound of a broken air conditioner and an open fire hydrant.

Flashes of jazz and salsa hit the house on “Take Heed (Nu Sunlight)” and “Alati Yeye Chege.” P-Funk basslines writhe throughout the tracklist. And the guitar on “Rise (Interlude)” is reminiscent of Prince’s huge but vulnerable melody lines on “Purple Rain.” “Rise” itself (not the interval) is interspersed with electric piano stabs that eventually bleed into minimal techno bass hits at the tail end.

The album bears its influences on its cover. But it was expertly mixed by Cesar Toribio, the Berkeley-educated mastermind behind Conclave. It evokes a DJ set at a party that contains a range of emotions into a cohesive whole.