Ravyn Lenae continues to hypnotise on Bird’s Eye

With her immaculate voice and smooth soundscapes, the rising R&B star created an effortless-sounding journey, subdued and often homogenous (for better or for worse). For her sophomore record, Bird’s Eye – the difference is stark, gone are the plentiful lulling melodies in favour of bold experimentation and a consistently surprising tracklist.

From its first moments with the guitar-laden, indie-pop chill of “Genius,” it’s clear this is a different Lenae. Instead of quieting her voice to fit onto mesmerizing whispers, she uses it to the fullest extent to command a song. It’s easiest to see the record’s disparity between lead singles “Love Is Blind” and “Love Me Not” – the former a neo-soul number standard for Lenae and the latter a relaxed, groovy indie rock cut about the duality of desire. “1 of 1”, too, starts with a digitized wind-up beat more befitting for someone like Charli xcx that continues through the song as she sings about a formless, free-falling love – pulling up the movies just to leave at the start, letting a partner guide her wherever. It’s unexplored terrain for Lenae, but somehow works.

There’s a bit of a country nod on “Days”, whose guitars strum by like syrup on a sunny afternoon – dare I say there’s a hint of Jimmy Buffett’s “Margaritaville” in there? She sings about cutting off a combative lover, but instead of seeing the positive, to begin again where the relationship ended, she laments the time she lost with him. “You’re the lightning / You’re the summer / I was waiting / Waiting for summer,” she admits. There’s another complicated relationship with the Childish Gambino-assist “One Wish,” not about a romantic partner, but her father. It’s a devastating, raw portrait of an 18-year-old Lenae, whose dad forgets to show up at her birthday party. “I can’t spend this one wish on you,” she sings, her voice floating off into the distance. Though it stings, her teenage self isn’t prepared to break her connection yet. “I can’t hate you, no matter how hard I try,” she admits, “I just pretend to.” It’s vulnerable, real, and its lilting twang make it instantly replayable.

For the diehard Hypnos fans, there’s still some gorgeously-sung, laid-back R&B to be found on Bird’s Eye. “Candy” is a tropical reggaeton bop, whose portrait of love’s simplicity matches its lyrics (“You can call me just to say goodnight / You can call me on a Friday night”), the aforementioned “Genius” shrugs at the face of petty conflict in a relationship: “What’s love without the conversation? / What’s love without some confrontation?” she asks. “Bad Idea” picks up on some of the futuristic, pulsing terrain of her past ideas, and “Pilot” is a spacey ode to isolated self-discovery (“Pay me no mind / I’m just a pilot roaming”), reflective but cheerful. These pad the more interesting tracks in a grounded, worthwhile flow that proves she can still mesmerize.

Lenae is an artist clearly uninterested in stagnancy. It would have been far too easy to rest on the laurels of her well-received and vibey debut, to churn out adjacent tracks without personal growth, but Bird’s Eye is a portrait of a musician willing to push themselves. It could be a little longer, or more cohesive, but not everyone’s sophomore project is as risky – or, interestingly, as relaxed. Bird’s Eye is a gift, and Ravyn Lenae’s on her way up.