SZA is back to save us all.
Her debut album, Ctrl, remains an exquisite artifact of a snapshot into the ugliness of your 20s. SZA’s personal style of lyricism has always read like an endless diary entry, and the transcendent nature of her genre-shifting abilities helped revolutionize modern R&B and pop. On Ctrl closing track “20 Something,” the artist born Solana Rowe laments about not having a grip on her life and remaining alone. She worries about losing friends; she does not want to fall into an abyss.
SOS arrives today (December 9th), five excruciating years after Ctrl, and — spoiler — SZA does not possess the answers to the new questions she poses for herself. It’s almost as if the five years caused her even more pain — but perhaps that is just life. In her lyrics, she pushes deeper into the full emotional spectrum, doubling down on her own insecurities and fears and her own existential dread (“Shirt”) — accompanied by the occasional middle finger.
SZA’s sophomore record is an assured, ambitious, expansive, and genre-defying journey into the very depths of heartbreak and the many shades it comes in — rage, fear, anguish, sorrow, bleakness, nihilism. She turns her own broken heart into its own liminal space through empathetic anxieties, feeling the push and pull of yearning for a lover while remaining wary of true intimacy. It is an absolute monster of a record that clocks in at just over 67 minutes with a staggering 23 tracks — and boy, was it worth the wait. If Ctrl was a near-perfect debut, SOS might be an inch closer to masterclass status.
SZA is a master of carving out liminal spaces in emotions: of the insecurities that come with the torture of comparing yourself to someone else (“Special”); of seeking fulfillment from a person who may not exist (“Gone Girl”); of simply alienating yourself because you feel like you deserve to be alone (“Conceited”). Through a haze of tears and cigarette smoke, she mourns her own loneliness, wondering if the cure lies in having terrible sex with someone, anyone, or just pushing people away entirely.
Like Ctrl, what’s incredible about SOS is the pure range of genre and musical palette. The tracks range from pure R&B and ’90s pop to pop-punk and soft rock. There is no obvious musical style that spans the record; the theme lies in her vocal prowess, the daringness of her vision, and her lyrical frankness in that she feels too much, all the time.
It was never going to be easy to write a follow-up for Ctrl, but with SOS, SZA has gone above and beyond. In the years between, SZA remained busy, collaborating with everyone from Doja Cat to Kali Uchis. But SOS finds SZA back in control on her own playground, and she pulls no punches with her all-star list of collaborators on SOS: There’s Travis Scott, Don Toliver, the late Ol’ Dirty Bastard and many others.
SZA has perfected the art of finding unlimited ways to convey sadness in her music, so it’s only natural that album highlight “Ghost in the Machine” features a contribution from indie queen Phoebe Bridgers. Here, SZA feels jaded and stilted at the kind of life she is living, and pleads for her lover to “distract” her from the horrors that plague her life: “Can you distract me from all the disaster?… Can you lead me to the ark? What’s the password?” Bridgers then echoes the not-so-great realities of being a touring musician. “I just think about myself and look where that got me,” she sighs, “Standin’ on my own in an airport bar or hotel lobby/ Waiting to feel clean/ It’s so fucking boring.”
What are better examples of a liminal space, if not an airport bar or a hotel lobby?
Heartache and yearning course through the record, and SZA’s approach to her affliction range from sardonic wit to searing emotional devastation. On the darkly funny “Kill Bill,” SZA contemplates murdering her ex. The melodrama of the song’s lyrics are juxtaposed by its lo-fi production: “I might kill my ex, not the best idea/ His new girlfriend’s next, how’d I get here?/ I might kill my ex, I still love him though/ Rather be in jail than alone,” she murmurs nonchalantly, with barely a shrug. (By the end, she gives into her dark desire.)
SZA is at her most vulnerable on “Too Late,” where her deepest insecurities start to crack through: “Had to be alone to out figure how I should be loved/ And if it’s just us, is that enough? Is it bad that I want more?” And on “Blind” (which contains an excellent reference to Julia Stiles in Save the Last Dance), she struggles insecurities of her self-worth lying in her actual personhood and her fears that her “pussy precedes me”: “It’s so embarrassing/ All of the love I seek living inside of me I can’t see, I’m blind.”
“F2F” (which boasts a writing credit from Lizzo) is a record standout. It’s one that sees SZA go full pop-punk with a barrage of distorted guitars. She channels her best Tom DeLonge — of iconic “I Miss You” crooning — as she yells in the chorus: “Hate that I can’t let go of you enough/ It’s why I fuck ’em ’cause I miss you.” It’s utterly delightful.
