An Unabashed Love Letter To Solange

Getting straight to the point, I love Solange Knowles. I’ve actually always loved Solange Knowles. For anyone who thinks I’m lying, just ask my fiancée. I’m sure she’s convinced I’d leave her for either Solange or Tina Knowles. Shit, both women could get it, son. In regards to Mama Knowles, I luh the cougars, bro. In any case, when it comes to music, I’ve actually enjoyed Solange’s records a lot longer than Beyoncé‘s. Side bar, I pray to God the BeyHive doesn’t massacre me for uttering that. With that being said, I do acknowledge that Bey’s last two albums are fucking flawless. But, with the release of A Seat at the Table, Solo has effectively released an album that’s at least on par with her sister’s greatest work.

Now, to be real, I’m not going to write a real review of her new album. At this point, there are too many think pieces about the record to even count. All anyone needs to do is hit up Google and find whatever type of commentary they want. For example, the good folks over at Pitchfork wrote a review that I fuck with. They understand the greatness that is Solo. In any case, I’d much rather talk about the fact that Solange finally made an album that fully encapsulates the personality she’s showcased over the years.

If anyone’s familiar with her interviews or her social media presence, it’s safe to say that Solange doesn’t hold her tongue. She’s not afraid to speak about issues that affect her, her family, women or the Black community. Hell, when it comes to family, even her brother-in-law could get it, son. Jay-Z may be the greatest rapper ever, but he can still catch these hands, bruh. Moving on, with every record she’s released, Solo Star notwithstanding, she’s inched closer to the artistic statement I believe she’s always wanted to make.

From “T.O.N.Y.” on Sol-Angel and the Hadley St. Dreams to “Lovers in the Parking Lot” on her True EP, the ingredients that would eventually comprise her new album were already visible. This time around, with the assistance of Raphael Saadiq and an incredible cast of musicians, she’s fully unlocked the code. So, it goes without saying, every song on this album is my fucking jam, son. As of right now, if I had to pick a favorite song, “Don’t Touch My Hair” is the wave, man. Outside of her contributions, special guest Sampha can do no wrong, in my eyes.

All in all, if anyone hasn’t listened to the album yet, stop being a fucktard and do the appropriate thing. Also, as a side note, Solange’s husband better do right by her, son. Otherwise, I’ll be waiting in the cut to pick up the pieces. Hopefully, my lady didn’t read that last sentence. Good day.

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