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The empowerment anthem is a cornerstone of pop music: take a fuzzy platitudeââBaby, youâre a firework,â âBaby, I was born this way,â âBaby, this is your dayââand transpose it as a sky-high pop hook. Less common and more overwrought, but with similar intention is the It Could Happen to You narrative track, the clearest example being TLCâs cautionary âWaterfalls.â You know the template: Verse A features one perspective, verse B features another, and somehow the moralizing comes together in the bridge. âWaterfallsâ was great because it was timely and directly illuminated stories about drug abuse and HIV/AIDS without being preachy.
On âBright,â from her latest mixtape, You Should Be Here, Oakland singer Kehlani takes a similar approach with stunning results. A late-album soft blues-pop oasis, itâs a story about self-love featuring atypical protagonists: A curly-haired girl tells herself âI donât look like them, I donât look like her, and I donât want whatâs on my head,â and a young boy with thin arms grapples with ideas of masculinity. Kehlani sees people in 3D. She knows the finer points to these stories but doesnât belabor the point: âYou are what you choose to be, itâs not up to no one else.â What âBrightâ does is magnify Kehlaniâs songwriting prowess, similarly self-assured and empathetic as Frank Ocean or contemporary R&B great Dawn Richardson with the toughness of Ty Dolla or Jeremih.
Sheâs an exemplary singer, but thatâs not what makes her great. Aside from the strength of her voice, which bubbles at top range like Lil Moâ and is suede-soft down below like Jojo, Kehlaniâs imagination for storytelling is what sets You Should Be Here apart from its current R&B-pop corollaries. Unlike Jhene Aiko, ,SZA or Tinashe, and even PartyNextDoor, Kehlaniâs not opaque. A journalist might say she doesnât bury the lede. âThey didnât want me then, they want me now,â goes the eat dust, come-up story âHow That Shit Taste.â And on the next track, âJealous,â about an overzealous, ââgram-obsessed jump-off, she comes straight out with it: âPretty soon Iâma take your phone, or you should it hide it in your pockets âtil you get home.â On the music box ballad âThe Letter,â Kehlani goes deeper into her inner conflicts and talks to her mother: âIf you werenât gonna guide me, why bring me into the light?â Itâs a cutting, heartbreaking turn of phrase, the first time a songâs made me shed a tear since Frank Oceanâs âWe All Try.â Thriving amidst the emotional frontloading and pettiness of young adulthood is a universal ambition. Kehlani doesnât have the secretânone of us doâbut sheâs got both specificity and a knack for flipping the archetype of the wounded young girl, and thatâs got to be a salve for a young person in the thick of it.
Kehlaniâs got both specificity and a knack for flipping the archetype of the wounded young girl, and thatâs got to be a salve for a young person in the thick of it.
In Kehlaniâs world, dudes are just trying to keep up. âWe could catch a flight out to London, go to the mall, spend a lump sum,â she sings on âThe Way,â accompanied by Chance the Rapper. The two have collaborated before, but this time there are sparks. Kehlani ripples like a rapper over the elongated, mellow production, setting up the attraction, before Chance slides in with the specifics, moving from slow to fast, burning through three different flows. Itâs a playful take on the classic R&B flirt track, with Kehlani in the driverâs seat.
Since Kehlani's able to do a lot of different things with her tone and cadence, producer and pianist Jahaan Sweet gives her a muted, emotional foundation. It's not an easy task for beatmakers to stay in the cut and not compete with the vocal track. Kehlani's team manages to create a musical vibe that's part-now and part-timeless, similar to Quadron's enveloping digital/orchestral vibe. Though sheâs working within R&Bâs recently revamped synth palette, Kehlani sounds much different than the rest. Part of that is because she might be one of the best young singers out, but itâs also because sheâs improving upon classic soul stories. Itâs exciting seeing a woman at the helm of a project like this; You Should Be Here has the energy and prescience of Rihanna â if Rihanna were a songwriter. Trey Songz and The-Dream can gripe on tracks about smart phones and Omarion can make a run for dancehall licks, but Kehlaniâs pulling all these ideas together into something that feels original and authentic and, somehow just slightly transgressive.Â
Anupa Mistry is a writer living in Toronto. Follow her @_anupa.Â