What a delight to see Kehlani smile again. They have a reason to. “Folded” remains ensconced in the Billboard Hot 100 Top 10, their biggest hit under their own name, a triumph on the chart alongside Olivia Dean and PinkPantheress. The conceit—the lover’s folded clothes represent Kehlani’s acceptance of their need for distance—is simplicity itself, hence why no one has hatched a song out of it (Jazmine Sullivan is a runner-up). But only Kehlani with their un-maudlin yearning could’ve fleshed it out. Months later “Folded” still has the freshness of newly pressed pants.
The good mood is general. Aided by a producers’ consortium that includes the Stereotypes, Khris Riddick-Tynes, and Andre “Dre” Harris, Kehlani’s eponymous fifth album boasts an artist less apt to exquisitely sigh over the conundrums of romance; this version of Kehlani, in the words of the spoken-word intro, is “stepping into its truth with no fear, no filter, and no apologies.” The tentative dance experiments on 2024’s Crash and the undulations of 2022’s aptly titled blue water road bespoke a growing up in public that required genre non-conformity. Steeped in modern R&B and just-behind-the-times hip-hop, Kehlani signifies a return to the buoyancy of debut SweetSexySavage: honest about their mistakes but disinclined to grovel; open to love after a night of ravishment yet aware of their partner’s impatience. They prize availability—with limits.
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Listeners might prefer Kehlani’s back half. There’s a moment in “Cruise Control” after the first chorus when Kehlani and the backup vocals go into a uh-uh-uh riff—you can’t plan these moments of bliss. “Fuck around, we can settle down,” they wonder. The answer comes on the next track, “Unlearn.” To a tinkling keyboard accompaniment reminiscent of prime Stargate, Kehlani offers a revised manifesto. “I blame the past but the past ain’t me,” she coos, and, later, voice multitracked as if she needed to clone herself for reassurance, “We’ve got a lot to unlearn the hurt.” Recent therapyspeak hasn’t sounded this empathetically sung.
Kehlani’s mood is contagious enough to infect otherwise okay collaborations with R&B institutions. Missy Elliott’s one-liners, identifiable within seconds, enliven “Back and Forth.” Usher sings with the ardor that’s still his to command on “Shoulda Never,” a reminder to check out 2024’s excellent Coming Home. Cardi B makes herself most welcome amid the call-and-response backup vocals and synth horns on “Pocket,” a buddy offering support. On the other hand I see no reason for a Big Sean collaboration in 2026 or 2016, but “Lights On” exists anyway, with mortifying contributions like, “Talk that shit, fuck a Discord.” Ditto Lil Wayne on opener “Anotha Luva.” Throw in Lil Jon and T-Pain on “Call Me Back” and you start to wonder if Kehlani had a bucket list of childhood heroes she had to work with.
Among a number of excellent albums by R&B contemporaries Ari Lennox, Summer Walker, and SZA, Kehlani’s stands out for its clarity: She offers confessions without cant. Kehlani is a treat to hear. Kehlani’s team comes up with heat-lightning filigrees: the guitar solo in “Oooh” after three minutes reminiscing about the wonders of 69-ing; the old school shufflebeat in “No Such Thing”; Brandy’s whiskery mezzo-soprano queering up “I Need You.” The album’s various fine to middling duets and collabs make their own case for canonicity—in a decade the latest comer may request Kehlani to class up their singles. The While We Wait mixtape remains their best-written release, but Kehlani, with “Folded” leading the way, proves she wants to compete in the marketplace. She’ll fuck around, not settle down.
