The huge cultural importance Noname can lay claim to sits in inverse proportion to the volume of actual work she’s released to date. Indeed, it’s testimony to her singular artistry that the Chicago artist’s catalogue – one mixtape, one album – can cause such intense conversation. Committed to social causes, outspoken in her beliefs, Noname has become a by-word in integrity. New album ‘Sundial’ – her first in five years – will only amplify that, a daring, complex feast of ideas that merges her political concerns with the personal, a record capable of moving from direct statements of socialist commitment to crude lust in the space of a single song.
For those familiar with Noname’s work, the sonic palette will be familiar. The jazzy edges remain, and are in same cases magnified; the features are used sparingly, and only in service to the message. Each aspect has its place, with Noname leaving her stamp on virtually every single second.
‘black mirror’ opens the record, and it immediately grapples with some of the broader recurring themes – namely, can her political commitments survive the compromises that come with success? Declaring herself to be “a socialism sister” she then emphatically adds: “am I supposed to feel different now my rent’s paid?”
Yet this isn’t some one-dimensional, rabble-rousing piece of conscious rap. ‘hold me down’ dares to bite the hands that feeds it, with its sarcastic declaration “that wasn’t us” before listing a litany of self-inflicted wounds perpetrated by the diaspora. With Barack Obama in her sights, she declares: “First Black President / He the one who bombed us…”
The emphasis is, naturally, on her incredible word play. More spoken word poet than rapper, Noname retains the rhythmic edge to her delivery, switching up flows and dancing over the beats. Even at her simplest – ‘potentially the interlude’ is little more than a chant – there’s real complexity. In that case, production from UK jazz dynamo Yussef Dayes, and the emotional pull of the line: “People say they love you / But they really love potential…”
Across the record as a whole Noname learns in real-time how to deal with the increased attention of the public. It’s worth remembering that 2016’s mixtape ‘Telefone’ was initially a free download – she didn’t ask for any of this, and there certainly isn’t a rulebook. Hence the beauty of Ayoni’s vocal on ‘boomboom’, and its statement: “I’ve been on an island of my own making…”
At every turn Noname resists the urge to be understood too quickly. She’s in tune with the political currents of America, but she’s also in tune with her own body. ‘Sundial’ moves from the profound to the vulgar, with ‘namesake’ rolling from “I don’t really like pussy” to “same solution: socialism”. There’s a sense of stripping away the veneer, shattering the (social) media lens; ‘afro futurism’ goes straight in with “it’s that time of the month”.
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Equally, aspects of ‘Sundial’ are her most sonically beautiful to date. ‘balloons’ may have sparked conversation with its inclusion of Jay Electronica – with Noname asking fans to cease their “selective outrage” – but its jazz-like complexity and tingling piano chords are scintillatingly attractive.
In fact, the debate around Jay Electronica’s inclusion (and the verse itself has anti-semitic overtones) spotlights one of the album’s central themes – holding yourself to account. ‘namesake’ warns “the Devil [is] hiding in plain sight” and “the whole world is culpable” before dissecting the rap industry’s place within the broader economic landscape of America, and how ultimately this perpetuates inequality and solidifies racial divides. A roll call of modern Black music icons – Beyonce, Kendrick Lamar – is utilised, before Noname turns the debate on herself, citing the decision to play the heavily-branded Coachella: “I said it wouldn’t perform for them / But somehow I fell in line”.
Ultimately, ‘Sundial’ is a record of incredible soundbites, but no easy answers. Noname might rap “new identity / same enemy” on ‘Beauty Supply’ but this vignette sits alongside lyricism that lays bare the complexities of enforcing these morals in a corrupt society. ‘gospel?’ – with features from $ilkmoney, Billy Woods, and Stout – is a bravura slice of art-rap, one that hinges on the line: “I’m about to get these white people caught up”. There’s a futility, too, at times. ‘oblivion’ warns of the climate crisis overwhelming us all, but Noname still finds time to re-assert: “motherfucker I don’t care / I’m gonna spit my shit”.
Refusing to take the easy route, ‘Sundial’ can at times be daunting, and the task of following the profound success of her earlier work isn’t an easy one. On repeated listens, however, the project breaks open as a singular work of Black American artistry.
8/10
Words: Robin Murray
