“Raven” by Kelela: music for dim clubs – culture

Club life is back – the darkness, the freedom, the timelessness, the hustle and bustle. Really eh. And slowly on pop albums again. So it’s going to be about looks, desire and touch. And with it the many possibilities that nightlife can offer, especially in comparison to romantic relationships. “Start with my hand on your skin, only a touch and we get into it,” sings Kelela, just for example. And: “I don’t wanna have a conversation, I don’t wanna wait.” No desire to talk, no desire to wait. Better not let anything burn. Carefully worded.

Compared to her celebrated debut “Take Me Apart” released a good five years ago – Kelela’s singing even then: ultra self-confident, the production: next level – the meanwhile 39-year-old American admits on “Raven”, her only second album ( next to a couple of EPs), also otherwise a lot of space free for the dance floor, for the courage to be stoic. And for the hypnotic that is needed there. Hardly anything really stands out – and in the best possible sense. Wobbly drum machine grooves and bubbling synthesizers that still sound suspiciously organic (tons of producers were involved; everyone deserves a hug), suck the listener into a trance-like tunnel. Everything flows together, the next track starts again and again without you noticing.

So music for semi-lit clubs, house, drum’n’bass, UK grime, but fused into a coherent something. And Kelela, hitherto known for clever, edgy, fine-bulky R’n’B, sings with her far-reaching soprano voice on top, occasionally quite freely. Which also means that the listener rarely knows exactly what is happening, especially during the first few passes. That can seem unstructured. On the other hand: Who, please, wants to be taken by the hand in the club? When it comes to excess, why should you want to know exactly where you are – and where you are going from there? Orientation: counterproductive for letting go.

Where Beyoncé splurges, Kelela leaves room, giving her songs time to settle on their feet

You can still slow down from time to time during atmospheric, almost ambient-cloudy tracks like “Holier”. Smoking breaks, so to speak. Most likely not with cigarettes.

And on top of that Kelela’s eccentric singing, which doesn’t dominate and direct the music, but rather flows through it – which makes the whole thing appear significantly different than the last album by the other, much bigger R’n’B singer-gone- Dance music: Beyoncé and her last year’s house odyssey “Renaissance”. Where Beyoncé still shows off a bit, where her song structures and arrangements follow even more (and of course grandiose) pop logic, Kelela leaves space, builds up carefully, gives her songs more time to get to the consumer’s feet. That requires patience. Most of the time it is rewarded.

Especially the title track which builds and builds with drama and eventually becomes a bouncing IDM orgasm. It’s fitting that she’s signed to experimental electronic label Warp Records. The record is radical in its subtlety. The poppy song (“Enough For Love”) only comes towards the end and then Kelela picks up the vocal melody from the opener (“Washed Away”) again in the very last track (“Far Away”). Lo and behold: the plate becomes a circle. This may not be a revolutionary way to end an album anymore, but it works tremendously well here. After all, the greatest club music feels infinite.