Alessia Cara: Waiting for the album review
Alessia Cara has made a career in chronicling the pains of growing up as a foreigner. She sang hymns for the lonely, the anxious, the self-proclaimed anti-social. Sometimes she wrote with sharp specificity; his breakout single, “here“, gave a panoramic view of a party from the point of view of the loner slumped by the TV with a low cap over her eyes. The song was a huge hit that sent her into the pop machine, and Shortly after signing with Def Jam, Cara released a stream of sanitized songs with Big Messages – the sickening “Scars to your beautiful“addressed to a girl who cuts herself, serious”Trust my lonerWas a cheesy ode to intuition. Her albums alternated between tracks that exploited her keen eye for detail and songs more suited to Disney soundtracks (Cara eventually featured on the Moana soundtrack). But her unmistakable voice and keen introspection made Cara a staple in the pop world, even as she struggled to define what kind of star she wanted to be.
Cara’s latest album, Waiting for, is an elegant ode to this intermediate state. It’s a record with set parameters: she looks after herself after a breakup, with a constant eye on whatever love might come next. It’s the best-written kind of album at the age of 25, and Cara grabs the depth when she tackles the first apprehensions about aging – “You live and you die,” she moans. Best Days “,” but the hardest pill to swallow is in the meantime. The song plays out much like the half-baked meditations on Lorde’s “Stoned at the nail salon“, taken from another album on the drift through a crisis of the quarter-life. The other clear parallel of the disc is that of Adele 25, another collection of invigorating breakthrough tracks and a time capsule for declining youth, backed up by breathtaking vocals.
But where Adele sang a simple and painful sadness, Cara reveled in conflicting emotions. This is a feel it all album, and Cara goes through her own chaos with crisp writing. Take the crystalline one-liners that underpin his choruses: “I miss you, don’t call me;“”I am alone, you are someone else;“”I love you, but you let me down.She doesn’t get away with it either; some of Cara’s best writings on the album come when she names her doubt and delirium. “I fill in the blanks with my own pride / I tell myself you’re miserable without me,” she sings on “Somebody Else”. Her layered voices blossom into lush harmonies, intensifying the internal feel of the record.
The themes Cara explores here are moving and mature, but she dilutes them when she relies too much on metaphor and vanity. On “Find My Boy,” she auditions a cast of potential love interests – Brooklyn’s brother having a pizza, the “short and sweet” poet, the guy doing yoga on the beach – and the descriptions drag on. feather Beats. In “Drama Queen,” she compares a turbulent relationship to Hollywood’s ideals of love, but her quest for a “knight in shining armor” grows weary as the smooth drums advance. Cara spends much of the record analyzing her tangled reflections on her past relationship, a confusion of blame, desire, sting and need. Sometimes all of this conflict contrasts jarringly with the sound of the album: crisp, frictionless, pristine pop. She sings about holding back and hiding “explosive emotions” in “Box in the Ocean,” and the song itself hides them in bright trumpets and a reggae-inspired feel.
These catchy tracks are akin to the closer “Apartment Song”, a sparkling coda that shows Cara lounging alone. She spins around in her kitchen and scans the sky, she dances in front of the TV, she changes her number. Cara shines with clarity, exhalation and exhilaration. Especially for an artist who has sung so much about the pain of feeling alone, it’s delightful to hear her find happiness in solitude, clinging to fleeting joy for as long as she can.
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