BY MERT ENEY (LAW/IV)
mert.eney@ug.bilkent.edu.tr
Classification is a weird anthropological habit – it is probably the most common characteristic of our species that we mentally categorize pretty much everything we experience. From seemingly smaller concerns like fashion to more significant issues like the gender binary, we put things into neat mental boxes. Our perceptive understanding shapes our perspective, and we classify immediately. The downside of it all is when these perspectives clash.
Kelela first rose to prominence with her outstanding mixtape, 2013’s “Cut 4 Me,” a kaleidoscope of a project where she sang over instrumental beats from several prominent DJs and producers, singlehandedly transforming the promise a mixtape can contain. After two years and several collaborations with her contemporaries, she released an EP, “Hallucinogen”; and after two more years, we finally have her long-promised debut album, “Take Me Apart.” It feels both nostalgic and unfamiliar, somehow bearing a resemblance to her sonic past, but more emotionally available – Kelela isn’t afraid to present herself as at once vulnerable and sexual. Her debut is a next of kin to her previous ambitions, yet at the same time a fully realized creative project. She sings of heartbreak like a true contemporary of ours, sensually sharing instances of relatable experiences, like a past lover calling her after six months.
Kelela has said on previous occasions that her songwriting and artistry in general will forever rise from the experiences of a black woman. Although this clarification is rather unnecessary (a white male wouldn’t be expected to make such interpretations as hers, ever), it is also a central issue with regard to the limitations the industry sets when calculating marketability. This categorization of creativity more often than not turns into race-based assumptions. It is true that Kelela is in the tradition of R&B artists, and in songs like “LMK,” she honors that tradition. However, she is also clearly beyond genre – in three accomplished projects, she has shown that in terms of experimentation with production techniques as well as in vocal range, her work goes well beyond the boundaries of any genre that currently exists.
It is also safe to say that “Take Me Apart” is an album that is not easily accessible to the mainstream listener. It is composed of seemingly indistinguishable songs with similar beats and hooks, and Kelela can be bleak from time to time – her vocals blend too far deeply into the production, something that works in her favor, but also sometimes works against the listener. Yet the album is accurately titled in that it gives a warning – the listener is expected to be not just a passive observer, but more a participant, dismantling the songs and taking them apart. The listener is, in this sense, a contractor, working their way toward pulling the album to pieces. It is safe to say that Kelela is surely an innovator in the game.
The album is full of little surprises – the change in production coming around the three-minute mark of “Better,” when she sings “That we been around the club once or twice? / Breaking up in the middle of the night,” or the whole sonic sketch where she unlocks her car, opens the door, gets in and hits the gas at the end of “Frontline.” Craftsmanship like this – where the story told through the songwriting is extended to the production, and real life blends into the final sound – just awes me.
In 14 songs, Kelela spills her guts for all of us to see, and from afar, we hear the sound of something that is being violently taken apart – whether that is her heart or traditional notions of musical genre is for the listener to decide.
Notable Songs: “Frontline,” “Waitin’,” “Better,” “LMK,” “Truth or Dare”