Even after several intense listening sessions, I'm not sure that I exactly "like" the debut single by San Francisco's Mi Ami. I will gladly assert that it's too formidable to immediately dismiss. The song's title isn't an ironic descriptor at all, but an accurate portrayal of its easily identifiable afrobeat. There are elements here that exceed the scope of cross-cultural appropriation, however. Active drumming is welded to repetitive guitar sludge more at home in the world of Rhode Island art students than Maori tribesmen. The cultural origin of the screeching vocals are up for general debate. While a ceremonial imitation of some veldt beast is nearly plausible, I'm also willing to entertain comparisons to less controlled Liars' wailing or even bratty-to-the-extreme Beastie Boys' nasality.

 In acknowledging that the component parts of "African Rhythms" are disparate, I don't mean to imply that they are therefore mismatched. The common denominator is conviction bordering on viral contagion. Whether assaulting ears with splintered guitar or instigating dance circle frenzy in a lower bodily region, there's a spirit to this song's sonics meant to travel from fevered host to overcome listener. I don't know that I'll find myself aching for its abandon to take me over on a regular basis, but a persistent creep into the bloodstream continues even as I type.