HEAVN
Jamila Woods
Week 87: September 27-October 3, 2020
"Popsicle (Interlude)," after all this time, is still the skeleton key to my feelings about this album—an otherwise extremely competent and generally catchy neo-R&B album from an incredibly talented individual—in that it names me as the non-Black observer. Rereading my review, I'll say that this seemed to be the beginning of the end for the "not supposed to be for me" takeaway that I made a habit of pulling out of the desk drawer prior to, when it came to music from Black artists about the Black experience. I will say that I—for emphasis here, I am a white male—have made great strides in the past five years at understanding how to listen to such an album, and handling the energy that I know is not directed my way.
It's actually pretty simple. First, you search for universal themes. Even the albums that adhere closest to the mission of Speaking to Black Experience touch on themes that are meant for everyone. I don't intimately feel the chains that Jamila Woods is specifically speaking about, but I know about other chains. I can't know how it feels to be descended from slavery, but I can understand how living under capitalism would exacerbate structural racism, since I live under that same capitalism (as just one example). And then second, you open yourself up to learning about experiences that you will never have. Learning something new is always exhilarating; learning something about race in America in the 2020s is absolutely essential. Being mindful is essential, and Jamila Woods is a great artist for, among many other reasons, keeping me mindful about reality as it exists in the present moment, especially for people not like me.
It's okay to say "this isn't for me" when you're talking about genre, because not every genre is for you. If I'm using the phrase, I'd tend to use it for an album like HEAVN, but only because R&B very often doesn't do it for me. But I would never use the phrase "this isn't for me" when talking about the themes of this album. That's being lazy. That's being insensitive. That's being afraid to explore yourself—how can I find something important in this album, and in what ways does it speak to me as I am right now? Be brave. Question yourself. Take something that isn't for you and find peace in understanding the ways that is and is not actually for you. It'll make for a more enriching experience.
Highlights from other reviews:
Nate — pointing out that the nebulous idea of "Chicago rap" can be codified here
Rachel S. — holding us to task in the moment, and not needing five years to fully grasp the task at hand
Sunny — important connection between when this was released and when we were reviewing it ('16 to '20, an insanely tumultuous four-year gap that somehow did nothing to alter the essential themes)
Kait — allyship in action, and finding ample room to relax to smooth sounds
Also, Mike caught up with some Record Club albums around this time five years ago, and HEAVN was the most recent (at the time) album he reviewed with a quick sentence or two. I'd love if more people listened to the music and wrote quick little thoughts like this. I think "I listened a bunch but didn't have too much to say but here's a sentence" is better than "I didn't listen because I hate writing." I think we're too deep into this Record Club shit for me to convince anyone of that, though.
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