“W.A.Y.S.” pairs contributions from Thundercat and Clams Casino, bombing gently plucked guitars with massive, echoing drums and cross-breeding both artists’ trademark sounds to dramatic effect. Though Souled Out’s cast is diverse, its sound is of a piece end to end, it surges with a lush, aquatic gravitas, distinctly R&B but never confined to genre conventions. Sailing Soul(s) and Sail Out architect Fisticuffs sneaks a few cuts in, buoyed by a handful of contributions from No I.D., Röyksopp, Kid Cudi mainstay Dot Da Genius, and others. With Aiko’s writing flowing freely from relatable distress to hotbox reverie, Souled Out’s producers, composers, and players are tasked with minding the turbulence. But the thematic conceit-Aiko having run out of things to say-doesn’t need four minutes of exploratory scatting to bear out.
#Jhené aiko serial#
Serial Lover, I wish your mother loved you like I could’ve.” Like Sail Out’s bonus track “Comfort Inn Ending (Freestyle)”, Souled Out’s nightcap “Pretty Bird (Freestyle)” finds Aiko vocalizing free verse for one of the album’s most impassioned performances. Opener “Limbo Limbo Limbo” gets overwrought quick: “She was just as basic as the universal language of love.” “W.A.Y.S.” folds Buddhist monk spirituality into Cheshire Cat turns of phrase: “You have got to lose your mind just to find your peace of mind.” “There’s really no fail, there’s really no winning/ 'Cause nothing really is, and everything really isn’t.” “Lyin King” dabbles in pop psychology: “Mr. It also means there's sporadic lapses into pat aphorisms that do few favors for the record's "melody first, lyrics later" songwriting approach.
In avoiding the Ester Deans, Ryan Tedders, and Sias that workshop many of her peers’ hits behind the scenes, she gives Souled Out a distinctly personal edge and an earnest, lived-in feel. The breathy resignation of “It’s Cool” fits the song’s pursuit of a distant love interest hand in glove, while “Wading”, awash in unrequited romance, emotes with desolate, echoing vocal runs.Īiko’s writing can be a liability, though. Aiko has zeroed in on her strengths as a performer (stoned perseverance, stoned exhaustion) and tailored Souled Out specifically around them. Her voice skips and flits across these compositions with a confidence that defies the limits of her range.
These songs ask more of her than the mopey, low-register Drake-fan-service of her earlier material.
But anchoring Souled Out are Aiko’s advancing command of her instrument and a more daring approach to melody. It’s a high-risk measure, a glut of solo mood pieces from an artist many may only have experienced a few lines at a time on friends’ choruses. Throughout the album, the predominant voice heard is hers barring some choice backing vocals from songwriter to the stars James Fauntleroy, the lone celebrity guest spot is a bottom of the ninth appearance from Common on the album closer “Pretty Bird (Freestyle)”. Sovereignty seems to be the mission of Aiko’s proper debut Souled Out. Even if the accompanying Sail OutEP was still a rap friends roll call, “The Worst” proved she could go it alone if need be, rapping and all. Last year’s “The Worst” was a Technicolor reveal, a performance involved and emotional enough to shake frequent comparisons to cult pop-R&B stoic Cassie and break Aiko on a national level without a celebrity co-star leading the way. Her debut mixtape Sailing Soul(s) flourished by co-opting the minor key melodies and navel gazing oversharing of R&B radio’s wistful sad boys, but her delivery hewed a touch too vacant, her words too indistinct, to carry an entire project. Much of the conversation about Aiko posited her as a musical foil for her more widely known rapper friends. For over a decade, Los Angeles singer/songwriter Jhené Aiko has skirted the periphery of R&B stardom, thanks to an early association with the Omarion-led R&B boy band B2K, later work with Kendrick Lamar’s Black Hippy crew and more recently, Kanye mentor and Def Jam exec No I.D.’s Cocaine 80s collective.