The ways in which a celebrity can be introverted, really, are slim. Even if their preferred style is inward, their lives are always being consumed openly. Little Simz, ever the outsider, wrestles with being caught somewhere in the middle on her fourth album, ‘Sometimes I Might Be Introvert’. The London rapper’s 2019 record ‘GREY Area’ was also wrapped in the conundrum of two worlds, tearing its protagonist apart at the seams until Simz re-evaluated her self-worth. She does so here in spades too, but it’s coming from within this time. In a display of brains and brawn, Simz’s bottled thoughts flow endlessly into this weird, wonderful, and sometimes hysterical dissection of what it means to be human. As she’ll tell you, the worst, her childhood trauma, is behind her, but the present is fairly pressing too. Moments of joy are few and far between here, but that’s true of Simz’s world, and she’s not going to start pandering now, not here, not ever.

As the title suggests, the narratives here are insular but rarely in Simz’s preferred, petite form, private quarrels that have gotten so out of hand they’ve taken on a life of their own. Throughout, Simz fights the introverts’ battle, facing intrusive thoughts she’s mulled over at length. Like on ‘I Love You, I Hate You’, where Simz confronts parental conflicts of the past, donning a steely face so as not to completely break down. As far as she’s come, there is no escape, the war wages on within. Proof of her growth can be spotted on ‘Miss Understood’ where Simz tries to untangle a knotty situation with her sister that’s left them both burnt. No longer are these sacred truths an internal, or even private affair. Simz lays bare her deeply human issues for the world to feel, in a way that strips the upper echelon of their privacy and affords ubiquitous lows.

On a level playing field, Simz often widens the scope of ‘Sometimes I Might Be Introvert’, threatening more obtuse issues in an extroverted fashion. In a new environment, the prodigy maintains composure, even when the foe is wealthier. ‘Introvert’ is a literal culprit of this formula. Simz raises a seismic, orchestral fanfare to aid her raucous rebellion against Government corruption. The heroism continues as Simz showers female figures of importance on ‘Woman’ with due praise. All the while, she keeps a steady, bare-knuckled grit to fend off the generations of stereotypes she’s in part experiencing herself now. These themes of heritage and womanhood course through the DNA of the LP, crafting an unequivocal identity for Simz who, seemingly, still, has everything to gain and nothing to lose. That hunger is on display in full on ‘Fear No Man’, where Simz rides atop frothing, tribalistic drums with a cool callousness. It’s more braggadocio than anything else, but you’d be a fool to cross her in this state.

Interludes are scattered throughout, and these provide breathing room for Simz to reconnect with the shelter of her own thoughts. Disconnected from her arc, which edges nearer and nearer to stardom, ‘Gems’ sparks an argument between Simz’s inner monologue and a marvelous choir of jovial chants. The backdrop sounds like a Disney soundtrack on crack, a far more fantastical world than the one Simz is often combing through. We quite literally fall deeper into this rabbit hole on ‘The Rapper That Came To Tea’, which evokes the garish acidity of an Alice in Wonderland-like world. But these never stray so far that avoid the cynicism of the LP. ‘Never Make Promises’ sours the immersion, slicing through the beyond-human fantasy with a reminder that nothing is promised. It’s a harsh comedown.

Somewhere between one of the many transitions here, Simz snaps. Provoked by the woes of the world, she adapts accordingly. At times, it feels like she’s showing off, eager to prove herself as the definitive talent of her generation. And when she’s capable of sporting pastel-coloured pizzazz on par with Missy Elliot with ‘Speed’, who can contest her? Elsewhere, it’s all too much. To suggest she caves from the pressure on ‘Two Worlds Apart’ isn’t entirely true, but she secludes in a drug hut, floating high above the palpable problems that demand her attention, “Please don’t tell my momma I’ve been smokin’ marijuana”. But, just like that, she snaps back with an inimitable prowess. Simz emerges from her chrysalis on ‘Standing Ovation’ as a brute with a fiery flow that could keep up with the very best, whereas ‘Point and Kill’ paints Simz as a go-getter without breaking a sweat.

Not a single song here is outrightly unpleasant, nor do the hiccups ever truly distract Simz, but there are moments that feel neglected by comparison. Where the highs, of which there are many, excel due to the bizarre geometry of a wealth of ideas, these pockets could use some more. For example, ‘Little Q, Pt. 1’ is an entire minute of teasing for a climax that doesn’t materialise until a song later. ‘I See You’ attempts to retreat to the effervescent utopia of ‘Two Worlds Apart’ and lands, well, a world away. If it weren’t so faint, the lack of frills sheathing Simz’s admissions would make for some of the most emotionally gratifying material here. Simz maliciously roars atop distorted, mutated grime beats on ‘Rollin Stone’, the only thing that can ease her tense, nightmarish form is when she assumes the same minimalist, weedy tone.

The biggest adjustment Simz has made post-’GREY Area’, besides the size of her projects, is the spread of styles she uses to fill them. And at nearly double the length, ‘Sometimes I Might Be Introvert’ finds space to employ more colour and more creativity. The most obscure moment here, ‘Protect My Energy’, is Simz’s take on an introvert-friendly piece of synth-rock. The overtly saturated glitches that coil around her like the cuddle of a blanket wouldn’t feel out of place on a Daft Punk record. Again, ‘The Garden’ reaches breathtaking cinematic heights. Despite the nudge of encouragement to cherish relationships, the gushing, strings dwarf her, creating a sense of isolation. But that isolation reminds you of the beauty of being alone, completely at peace with yourself.

It’s an ongoing lesson that Simz fosters here. Still, as we learn, there are no happy endings, but that doesn’t stop Simz from trying to reach one. ‘Sometimes I Might Be Introvert’ is as much a lesson of illustrating the broader horrors of the world as it is a journey of self-discovery. Hoisted by Simz’s encyclopedic knowledge and burgeoning self-awareness, the two messages are never muddled. That crystal clear precision that runs throughout is in part why this feels more like a therapeutic exercise for Simbiatu Ajikawo, the woman behind the mask than it does a mere Little Simz album. And in the vigour of these discoveries, Simz makes so many radical notes that you start to see shades of yourself in the position of a candid introvert. You won’t hold up as well as she does.

Sometimes I Might Be Introvert – Little Simz – 9/10