No Album Left Behind: Spoony Bard’s Old Friends
Soulful electronic producer’s sophomore album lands him in the same sonic universe as Thundercat and FlyLo

Over the course of 2019, Paste has reviewed about 300 albums. Yet, hundreds—if not thousands—of albums have slipped through the cracks. This December, we’re delighted to launch a new series called No Album Left Behind, in which our core team of critics reviews some of their favorite records we may have missed the first time around, looking back at some of the best overlooked releases of 2019.
Jazz guitarist-turned-electronic producer David Nord nearly handicapped Old Friends, his sophomore album as Spoony Bard, right out of the gate. By kicking things off with a rap in the Aesop Rock mold, where ev-er-y syl-la-ble rolls off the tongue in a way that’s become a well-worn cliché by this point, Nord makes it all too easy to dismiss him as an artist who’s 20 years late to the party. But the track, titled “ego trippin part 99,” also signals a willingness on Nord’s part to affect an exaggerated vocal style that works against the exotic hip-hop jazz instrumental that unfolds underneath. Nord rhymes over a delicate piano figure, a guitar with a tastefully applied wah-wah effect, keyboard strings, handclaps and a soft beat—all of which showcase how graceful his touch can be as a producer and arranger.
From that point on, however, Old Friends achieves an unexpected creative liftoff. By the time the album winds down in a gurgle of Moog and bass guitar, you’ve just sat through one of the most fluid, inspired and downright beautiful albums of 2019. On “ego trippin part 99” (a nod to golden-age hip hop pioneers De La Soul), Nord introduces himself as “Half Juilliard, half school of hard knocks.” Apparently, he felt he had to establish some kind of cred, or at least spell-out for the audience that he has feet in two different worlds. He doesn’t have to—and will likely never have to again, at least to anyone who listens to Old Friends from start to finish. Once Nord lets go of the need to dictate the context and simply allows the music itself to do the talking, the singularity of his muse comes beaming through.