But Kehlani works best in a small-scale environment. This is a big album in every sense of the word, its crashing drums suggesting stormy drama. These tunes are beholden to the mid-‘10s’ dominant pop trend: the really, really slow song.
The ‘90s R&B references – the TLC-referencing title, the Akon interpolation on “Undercover,” the obvious Timbaland rip “Too Much” – are red herrings. Unfortunately, these cuts are buried deep in an interminable, hour-long sea of generic love-lust ballads and unembellished, vaguely dubsteppy production. The chorus is more likely to stick in the head for the emotion behind it than the melody: “I’m not used to it,” she says of having a man genuinely want to ride with her. It’s the most personal account here, and its anecdotes jump out like firecrackers: she reminisces of being homeless at 14, drinking by the sea, losing lovers to violence. The chorus, set to strings that taunt like a nursery rhyme promises: “Imma do you dirty/you think you love me now/I think you should be worried.” It’s hard not to imagine a smirk on her face.Īnother wonder is “Not Used to It,” which unfortunately isn’t very catchy but makes up for it in sharp storytelling. But while Furtado worried about her impulses getting the better of her, Kehlani owns them: “ I could fuck you now and years later on you’re gonna be stuck just reminiscing,“ she brags. It’s a bit like Nelly Furtado’s “I’m Like a Bird” in how its narrator frames promiscuity as something in their nature.
“Do U Dirty,” one of the best pop songs of the year so far, is relentless in teasing a guy who wants the kind of commitment Kehlani can’t provide. Ditto “ do you wanna be a distraction,” the chorus of “Distraction” and easily the album’s catchiest but, lyrically, only sexy because we understand she’s talking about sex.Ī few of these songs are astounding. Here, the lyrics are mostly classic pop truisms with so many songs about doomed love that, later, a lyric like “ they don’t wanna see us together” packs zero punch. There was clearly a voice animating the songs on You Should Be Here, which was refreshing given it’s often hard to tell who does what on big pop records so much so that individual visions often get lost in the collaborative din. What’s disappointing is we don’t get too much else of Kehlani here.
Artists shouldn’t have to dredge up their traumas in the name of art. There’s no reference to this event on SweetSexySavage, which is fine. This strategy isn’t at all surprising given that she’s still probably best-known for “Gangsta,” an ephemeral cut from the Suicide Squad soundtrack, and for the ugly incident last year in which trolls bullied her so mercilessly for allegedly cheating on her boyfriend Kyrie Irving she attempted suicide. Just look how she’s posed on the cover: this is a face, it tells you, you’re supposed to remember. On that excellent mixtape, the young Oaklander was an auteur with a funny, self-analytical songwriting style. SweetSexySavage does one thing better than its predecessor, You Should Be Here: sell Kehlani Parrish as a star.