On the cover of their third studio album, blue water road, Kehlani revels in the sunlight of a beach setting, their hair is down, they are free. It’s a far cry from the position they assumed on the cover of 2020’s It Was Good Until It Wasn’t, barely peering over a wall. It was fitting for an album that chronicled a period of Kehlani’s life where nothing but darkness was guaranteed. In the two years separating the albums, Kehlani has done some soul-searching, explored parenthood, and come to terms with their identity. Problem is, only marginal growth is reflected in the music of blue water road. Kehlani has plenty to say nowadays, but there’s not much separating how they and a hundred other sensual r&b crooners are saying it.

Despite the overwhelming similarities blue water road shares with previous Kehlani albums, it is singular in the fact that it follows a perfect loop. The first and last thing we hear is the gentle frothing of waves, a symbol of peace Kehlani returns to throughout the album. It is a reflection of Kehlani’s status during their musical absence. A towering orchestral segment on little story brings Kehlani back to reality, though, disrupting their window of rest and recollection. But the album’s other twelve songs never reach the same heights, nor do they come close to making such a bold juxtaposition. On their own, the monochromatic sounds register minimal emotion on Kehlani’s part. Anchored by a leitmotif on top of that, everything starts to sound the same.

Hitmaker Pop Wansel is partly to blame for the album’s languid complexion. He’s credited as a producer on every song. It’s clear his best ideas have been exhausted by the demands of bigger stars. Kehlani is guided by the metallic twang of a midi snare that twitches on altar, and for melt, their creamy voice teeters on an acoustic guitar melody that oscillates between just two notes. Without a discernable pattern, these songs loop aimlessly, undoing a formidable pop format the in-demand producer has used religiously to raise his stock. It seems out of character for Wansel, who is well acquainted with this seductive brand of music having contributed to many of Miguel’s most airtight sleazer anthems.

On the bright side, with no real competition, Kehlani’s ruminations of the dangers and pleasures of commitment overflow. The peril is at its fullest on get me started where potential adultery complicates Kehlani and Syd’s relationship, “maybe she can do it better (Better)/I guess, choose peace over stress (Oh)… If you wanna leave, be my guest”. It sounds like an argument so personal we were never meant to hear it. Despite the obvious risk, there is catharsis to be found in choosing the right lover. On everything, Kehlani’s anxieties are outweighed by carnal desires, “I know you was made for me, think you was made with me/Shit feel like destiny”. The attraction is naked, brought to life only by Kehlani’s excited rambling. Nothing more is needed.

This sort of troubled romance has been the interest of Kehlani for years now, but with blue water road, they find ways to crystallize their emotions and up the stakes. “Can I borrow some money? Can you call me an Uber?/My mama needs surgery and my son needs a scooter”, Kehlani sings with palpable distress in the brief chorus of shooter interlude. In the best possible way, it’s ugly. The song offers an unglazed glimpse into the consequences of Kehlani’s poor love life, an aspect they’ve brushed aside in favour of shallower evocations in the past.

Elsewhere, the idea of a revamp is overlooked. In tune with the ardent spirit Kehlani sports due to recent personal milestones, the aura of the album is ostensibly bright, but their voice carries all the deadpan attitude over from It Was Good Until It Wasn’t. On more than i should, Kehlani investigates the moral complications of cheating on an inadequate partner. They neither justify their fantasy with lyrical results nor salacious tension. A telling measure of Kehlani’s anonymity is the accuracy with which they match Justin Bieber’s level of blandness on the duet up at night. Their voices are just too closely related to have the impact of separate performers. And if Bieber’s feature wasn’t enough, tangerine channels all of the failed suggestive code of Yummy through an awkward food metaphor of its own.

For all the talk of growth that has surrounded the album’s release, the results should be more notable. No longer is Kehlani bogged down by the tragedy that permeated their last album. Blue water road is the antithesis, light and breezy, but so rarely does Kehlani seize the moment to make the music livelier. The rigorous editing Kehlani employs to keep the music spotless and stripped of battle scars makes it almost exclusively for casual listening. They could’ve been singing these songs eight years ago and will very likely be singing slight variations eight years from now, too.

blue water road – Kehlani – 4/10