Noname-Room 25 Review
The music of Chicago native Noname, a.k.a. Fatimah Warner, has always evoked a feeling of fancifulness. Her 2016 debut project, Telefone, was filled to the brim with breezy beats and guest features, counter-weighted by a devout sense of ambition from an exciting new female emcee. While tracks like “Diddy Bop” and “Yesterday” demonstrated her prominent talent as a songwriter, there seemed like endless room to grow. Her debut album Room 25 resonates with many of the same existential topics of Telefone, such as self-worth, death, and modern racism, while embracing a more laid-back stylistic approach thanks to a live band backing each track’s instrumental.
Opener “Self” sets Room’s quiet and contemplative nature early on, with Noname prompting the listener with a handful of rhetorical questions and braggadocio (“Maybe this the album you listen to in your car, When you driving home late at night, Really questioning every god, religion, Kanye, b*tches?”). “Blaxploitation” is easily the most fast-paced track on the project, with a plucky bass accompanying Warner’s discussion on black culture and new age politics (“ Maybe I’m a hypocrite, maybe I’m hypochondriac,
I’m struggling to simmer down, maybe I’m an insomni-black”).The track is a brilliant exhibition of Noname’s ability to approach tense topics in a subdued, sort of the anti-Rapsody, manner while still maintaining urgency and importance. “Prayer Song” also builds on this notion, jumping headfirst into wispy commentary on modern America’s acceptance of police brutality and political corruption (“America the great, it’s Grateful Dead and life for me/Apple pie on Sunday morning, obesity and heart disease”), while “Window” basks in sensuality and self-love. “Don’t Forget About Me” is the easily the most reflective track on the album and the closest return to the style of Telefone, peering into Noname’s worries towards newfound fame, family matters, and religion. Her meek vocals contrast the lofting string instrumentals in a gorgeous fashion, making the track a clear emotional highlight of the project.
While “Regal” feels like a fleeting passage on the project, “Montego Bay” sucks the listener in with the vibe of an amateur jazz lounge. Heavenly, layered vocals from Telefone-collaborator Ravyn Lenae bring an otherworldly essence to the instrumental akin to some of the ideas on Kanye and Kid Cudi’s brilliant KIDS SEE GHOSTS. Noname’s delivery on “Bay” also feels at its most playful and childish, a break from some of her more mature presentation on the rest of the project but still a much appreciated dose of personality. “Ace” finds Noname reunited with rising Chicago contemporaries Smino and Saba (who both dropped excellent projects recently, blkswn and CARE FOR ME). Smino’s hook is buttery and infectious (“Team got it bubblin’, I got trees in my luggage, I got tings out in London, Hope UK, what you say?”) while Saba’s verse is a lightning-fast execution of wordplay, further adding to his status as one of the most promising new-wave rappers. “Ace” isn’t as sentimental as the trio’s previous collaboration “Shadow Man”, one of the best songs of 2016, and instead goes for a more collaborative and joyous approach in comparison to its mournful predecessor. The following track, “Part Of Me” is driven by a skeletal kick-drum and compelling hook from frequent collaborator Phoelix. Noname’s verse is sparse and direct, giving extra room for newcomer Benjamin Earl Turner to shine (“Wrist like an Etch-a-Sketch, I’m sculptin’ the pain in ’em like Edmonia Lewis”) while indicating the wind-down of the album’s last leg. “With You” is likely the most low-key track in the listing, with Warner venting slowly on searching for “the one”, post-Telefone expectations, and loneliness away from home. The final song, self-titled, finds Noname at her most poetic as she sends off the album with references to her moniker (“ When labels ask me to sign, so my name don’t exist, so many names don’t exist”) and her relation to Room 25 before a solemn closing hook (“Don’t let it pass you by, Your life, you life, is your life, baby”).
For an artist that makes self-proclaimed “lullaby rap”, Noname has created a follow-up to her breakout project that feels more comfortable, pronounced, and important. Instead of drawing on the typical jazz stylings and contemporary Chicago lyricism of her previous effort, Room 25 identifies as an intimate experience that begs the listener to pay attention; a rare and much-appreciated feature during an age of self-promotion. Noname’s style is entirely her own, and we need to appreciate her unique talent and artistic vision while we’re lucky enough to do so.
