It’s evident in her latest album that Lianne La Havas has bloomed into a strong neo-soul artist. After journeying through genre after genre and taking pushes from her label with poise, La Havas has landed on her feet and presented us with a self-titled album that is vulnerable, groovy and all-together impressive.
In her past works, La Havas seemed to be stretching to reach her potential as an artist in many forms, and while creating some goosebump-level jams in the process, it feels as though those jams were steps on the latter leading her toward a truer form of artistic greatness.
Credit must be given to that sexy six-string of hers, pairing so beautifully with her warm voice and inviting us to immerse ourselves fully into the experience of this break-up album from the first song.
In “Bittersweet,” the subtle but growing backgrounds lift La Havas’ vocals to new heights, highlighting her poetic lyrics and husky pipes. Lianne intros this personal album with a strong sense of vulnerability that will not be mistaken for weakness, as she chants about her own rebirth.
Her strengths, both emotionally and vocally, give us Nina Simone vibes all the way; not to mention the obvious influence of Lauryn Hill on both her tone and lyrics.
“Read My Mind” summons the rush of a new romance to the forefront, as she breathily lets the presence of seduction set into the tone of the album.
The guitar riffs on “Green Papaya” and “Can’t Fight” remind us that her raw skills caught the attention of guitar legend, Prince- as if we could ever forget. (How mind blowing would that collaboration have been?!)
La Havas further stitches in the mark of her rock roots with a trippy, stripped back cover of
Radiohead’s “Weird Fishes.” She breaks into an Imogen Heap-style middle eight, her melody not competing with the harmony lines, but leaning on them for a perfectly blended full minute of exposed vocals.
Even the slower, less involved songs seem to serve a purpose on this album, moving the sequence along. “Paper Thin” and “Courage” could be looked over when listening passively, but when paid attention to reveal her most intense feelings and greatest vibrato.
The album feels so unapologetically Lianne, not only because of its style, but also because of the spoken tid-bits left in tracks like “Seven Times” and “Sour Flower.”
“Sour Flour,” a phrase described by her great-grandmother as a personal hardship, “channels flora as a mantra for meditative rebirth,” explained NME. This brings the album full circle, as the first song praises the summer rain and its responsibility for La Havas’ growth, and the closer about her becoming free with the help of a sour flower, saturated by the weight of the album’s tunes.
This is only album number three from this beautiful Brit, so keep her in your rotation and prepare yourself for more greatness to come.