Roots Manuva - Bleeds
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In the four years since his last album, Roots Manuva, a great curmudgeon of British music who forged his gruff diction in the byways of south London, relocated to genteel Surrey and cultivated an interest in gardening. The move hasn’t altogether softened his temperament: Bleeds opens with a tirade against the free market labels pretty much everybody as bastards. Before then, we get two strange, intense productions, Crying and Facety 2:11, which play nicely to the 42-year-old’s eccentricities, and a beautifully idiosyncratic meditation on religious feeling in Don’t Breathe Out.