Blessed - Aussie Blackstar (LP)

Aussie Blackstar lands like a statement of fact. BLESSED has been around long enough to know what he wants to say, and in 2022 he finally put it all in one place, a debut album that draws a bright line through his past life as Miracle, his Ghanaian roots, and the stubborn, fertile noise of Western Sydney. It is a record about belonging and building, but it never feels like homework. It feels like cruising down the Hume at dusk with the windows cracked, guitars fuzzing in the speakers, verses catching on little hooks you’ll be humming the next day.

What makes BLESSED stick out is the way he refuses the usual lanes. He raps, sure, but the record is full of guitar tone and melody, choruses that could live next to indie rock on a playlist, and production that treats distortion as its own kind of rhythm. You hear the hours spent sanding edges in the home studio, then sharpening them again so the songs still bite. His voice is elastic, flipping from a careworn croon to clipped, conversational bars, and he stacks harmonies like a band kid who never gave up on songwriting even when beats paid the bills.

The title does a lot of lifting. Aussie Blackstar reads as a manifesto before you press play, and the music follows through. He is carving out a place for Black excellence in a country that too often files artists like him into a novelty folder. Across the album he draws a map of family and friends and suburbs, of flights between continents and late-night trains back from shows. It is personal without being diaristic, political without a soapbox. He keeps the focus on scenes and feelings, the sting of a side-eye in a shop, the rush of a crowd shouting the words back.

“Down Under” is the cleanest entry point and a clear standout. It takes a phrase that has shadowed Australian music for decades and flips the energy, turning it into a swaggering thing that actually feels like here and now. The drums push, guitars smear around the edges, and BLESSED threads the middle, equal parts weary and defiant. It is the kind of song that gets a room moving even as the lines land. The rest of the album keeps that balance, shifting gears with intent. One track leans hard into overdriven guitars and half-sung stanzas, the next pares back to a skeletal beat and a voice so close it sounds like he is in the booth beside you.

That range makes the sequencing feel lived in. He understands how a set should move, how to build to a peak without blowing out your ears by track four. Little production choices keep rewarding return listens, chopped vocal tails that become percussion, guitar overdubs quietly answering main riffs like conversation. You can hear the crate-digger in him too, the same curiosity that has him sliding from rap to alt rock and back again. It is why people searching for Blessed vinyl or hunting for Blessed albums on vinyl are likely to shelve this near the genre crossovers that actually stuck, not the novelty hybrids that aged like milk.

The heart of the record is community. Even when he is writing about pressure or thinly veiled prejudice, there is a thread of care running through it. The hook often becomes a chant, something designed to be shared. If you have ever spent a sweaty night in a small Sydney room, you will recognise that impulse. It makes sense that Aussie Blackstar has found its people onstage and online, because the songs feel built for hands and voices, not just headphones.

If you want it in your collection, keep an eye out for an Aussie Blackstar vinyl pressing. The saturation and grit translate nicely to wax, and it sits well next to other modern local releases that blur genre lines. Plenty of Melbourne record store staff have been quietly slipping BLESSED into recommendations for folks who walk in asking for something new that still feels human. And if you prefer to buy Blessed records online, most of the usual suspects that deal in vinyl records Australia wide will either have it or can sort a pre-order.

Aussie Blackstar is the sound of an artist settling into his skin and refusing to flatten any part of himself to fit. It is proudly Western Sydney and proudly pan-African, tough when it needs to be and tender at angles you do not expect. Put it on late, let the guitars paint the corners of the room, and you will hear a record that tells its story with clarity and bite.