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A Review of Solange’s ‘When I Get Home’

  • uncl
  • Oct 2, 2019
  • 3 min read

Updated: Jul 25, 2020

by Nilo Adarve-Counts


When I Get Home begins with the title track, ‘Things I Imagined’, where Solange repeats the phrase ‘I saw things… I imagined/Things… I imagined’ over a mutating cosmic jazz/neo-soul beat – the album is defined by this juxtaposition of repeated mantras against constantly evolving musical structures. Solange abandons the structure of verse-chorus-verse, opting instead for a more abstract form of expression where she combines sung mantras with spoken-word excerpts and rap verses across songs which seem to blend into each other without any defined beginning or end.


Solange’s new album is significantly more obscure in meaning compared to her previous album, A Seat At The Table, in which she employed more traditional song structures and clearly set out her ideas in densely-packed and purpose-oriented lyrics on standout tracks such as ‘Don’t Touch My Hair’. Nevertheless, When I Get Home features the same poetic exploration of black identity, history, culture and Black femininity as its predecessor.


For example on ‘Almeda’, Solange sings a negro-spiritual-esque chant, ‘Black skin/black braids/Black waves/Black days/These are black owned things,’ before bringing in guest feature Playboi Carti who speaks on traditional Southern trap themes of materialism and drug culture (‘All of my diamonds, big lumps/I get that cash, got a bunch.’) Although neither Solange’s nor Carti’s verses are particularly dense in lyrical content, they combine to form a uniquely poetic representation of the black American experience with phrases such as ‘They takin’ me in, what I done?’ which prompt the listener to explore and develop their own concepts of black-ness as opposed to being explicitly informed by the artists.


When I Get Home is Solange’s exploration of herself on her own terms; she explores her blackness, her femininity, and her history through abstract lyrics which make the album feel more like a musical retreat than a body of social commentary. Solange adds particularly personal touches on the interludes between songs, blending together samples from her personal audio recordings (‘Fuck these hoe-ass niggas/They all be talking/They all be sayin’ shit’) with social messages intended to resonate across black and female society: ‘Do you realize how magnificent you are? We are not only sexual beings, we are the walking embodiment of god consciousness.’ These samples are used to project the entire nature of Solange’s black, female experience, ranging from overt social messages to unique experiences of her daily life.


The music video for When I Get Home similarly explores the nature of the black American experience, with Solange juxtaposing black dancers against traditionally white spaces in order to challenge the viewer’s concepts of what it means to be a black individual in America. These spaces range from Houston’s business districts, to old-fashioned cowboy rodeos, to futuristic space technology and extra-terrestrial planets, as Solange uses the aesthetics of the past, present and (imagined) future. According to Solange herself, the film is ‘an exploration of origin, asking the question how much of ourselves do we bring with us versus leave behind in our evolution.’


Solange also branches out from the primarily neo-soul and jazz inspired nature of A Seat At The Table, blending in elements of hip-hop, trap and soul in her use of bass rhythms and drum patterns. Trap producer Metro Boomin receives a partial credit for the production of ‘Stay Flo’, a song which combines Metro’s signature drum style and use of loops with a more experimental neo-soul/R&B chord progression. Odd Future members Tyler The Creator and Steve Lacy also come together on ‘My Skin My Logo’ to produce a soulful jazz song which begins as a simple bass guitar riff to which layers of synthesisers and electronic drums are gradually added for a sense of building intensity.


The final track on When I Get Home, ‘I’m a Witness’, is based around the repeated mantra of ‘Taking on the/Taking on the light,’ invoking the same uncertain, dream-like state as the title track. At the same time, Solange offers reassurance and comfort in this ending. She toys with the idea of ‘home’ in relation to the theme of repetition, creating ambiguity for the listener at the same time as capturing an artistic journey away from home and back within the length of the album.

 
 
 

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