In the six years since the groundbreaking Take Me Apart, Kelela’s vaporous body music has become a singular force. The insatiable allure of new romance, power dynamics that shift like quicksand, celestially minimalist club and R&B: This is the strong gravitational pull of Kelela’s world. Her preternaturally relaxed aura has become such a quietly commanding force that when she went relatively silent on social media after Take Me Apart, fans clung to her occasional, errant likes on social media as crucial signs of life.
But while her music was gaining a life of its own, Kelela herself spent time battling writer’s block, reclaiming her privacy, and re-establishing boundaries. The global pandemic and Black Lives Matter uprisings in 2020 sharpened her intention as she worked: Sick of dealing with the lip service paid to Black women and widespread misogynoir, she studied and reflected on films, essays, and works by academics and artists such as bell hooks, Kandis Williams, and Shaadi Devereaux. She sent a document to colleagues and friends asking what they’re doing to advance Black women and other marginalized people she shares community with; it led to a personal and professional restructuring that Kelela called “an act of self-care.” “Ultimately I’m working to be in alignment with myself. What that has looked like for me is speaking up to make sure I’m in partnership with Black people.”
The period of introspection casts Raven, Kelela’s second full-length, in a newly energized, restorative light. After anatomizing fractured relationships on Take Me Apart, Kelela centers queer Black womanhood through blasts of heated dance music and ambient comedowns. A new calm surrounds her intricate sound, forming an oasis from the problems of everyday life while simultaneously breaking down those problems with clarity. Listening to Raven leaves one breathless at the scope of Kelela’s enveloping music, offering several vantage points from which to witness new, head-spinning takes on R&B.
A roster of electronic producers and kindred spirits bring Raven’s innovative sound to life: Asmara of Nguzunguzu, LSDXOXO, Bambii, Kaytranada, Junglepussy, and more co-conspirators pepper the album with winding rhythms that draw from drum’n’bass, garage, Baltimore club, and further strains of Black electronic music. Built as a continuous mix, the record plays like a night out at a hazy, secluded club whose corners are primed for a heady blend of seduction and epiphanies on the dancefloor. The midpoint highlight “Contact” places Kelela’s delicate melodies over a scuffed jungle beat and warped synths that give way to a Dionysian rush of lust. Raven thrives in those straightforward dance moments: “On the Run” is driven by a dewy dancehall groove, a natural element for Kelela’s self-possessed, sexy come-ons. The breakbeats and brisk guitar that drive “Missed Call,” in line with a spate of artists working with the ’90s club hallmarks recently, give an added charge to the album’s front half.