Accent

Accent

A manner of speaking.

At first listen, Anderson .Paak’s Oxnard finale abandons the send-off principles established in the first two installments of his musical trilogy. Venice and Malibu both conclude with a neatly tied bow, bidding the listener adieu with cinematic songs that (even on the name level) lift upwards to offer a cohesive view of the whole. Left to Right also does what its name suggests but shuns the rest of project, turning away from summary towards something unrecognizable and new. .Paak’s surprising, patois-laced delivery in the song, however, comes as a tweak in execution rather than a shift in approach. This deliberate departure from his smooth, smile-ridden inflection actually imitates Off The Ground and The Dreamer by acting as a springboard to the next project. In order for a trilogy to progress, each story requires a conclusion. The grand finale, however, demands something fresh, a farewell that turns its back on a concluded work to concentrate on the mystery of the future. Now, with his trilogy behind him, Anderson .Paak has our attention.

Accent

A complement.

“Oh! Blocked by James!” If you’re like me, two things just happened. First, the epic voice of Mike Breen just invaded your thoughts for a brief dramatic reading. And second, little bumps appeared up and down your arms (sorry (not sorry in the least) Warriors fans). The Block is forever a multi-sensory experience, two masters of their craft collaborating to erect a statue of a leaping LeBron, inscription and all, into our memory’s museum. It’s also proof that commentators define moments. A muted television, despite all the visual drama of athletics, means a one-dimensional experience. Voices make games immersive, molding the emotions of fans into tangible sound bites. And in a sphere where actions often defy depiction, commentators do what we cannot—put words to the indescribable.