For the first time in a few years, I’ve struggled to bring a new album to the table from and artists that I have a background with that I want to stand behind. Without naming names, some of who I feel are heavy hitters, have missed the mark over the last few weeks with their new albums. The consequence of this has pushed me into a deep dive into new music, and new artists (at least to me).
The name that kept on coming up was Noname and her latest release ‘Sundail’ that is one of the ‘hot’ names of 2023. In reflection she isn’t completely new to me as previous collaborations with the likes of Chance The Rapper have peppered numerous playlist of mine historically. Upon the release of ‘Sundial’, much was written about her journey to releasing this album and her exhaustion to the realities of being a black artist releasing conscious music. She had previously put new music on hold indefinitely. The guardian sums up her history to date fairly well in this article.
Ahead of doing research on the artist, there’s a lot of value in approaching this album with virgin ears for a listen or two. Few recent albums give you an introduction to what is coming and the artist that is presenting as the first track ‘Black Mirror’. In just over 2 minutes she explains herself better than most of us do in a lifetime. As Kendrick did in the Heart P5 video, this album is as much of a look into the mirror as it is of the world of Noname, which is highlighted by the album cover.
Hip Hop as a genre is vast and ever changing. In what could be argued as it’s most confusing state to date, this album lends us some clarity to modern hip hop. Noname’s razor sharp lyrics hide behind her laidback flow like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Conscious, astute, boldly honest and the ability to say f-you politely. We spoke on the podcast a few episodes ago about hip hop the hip hop albums of the 90’s that all of us admired. Digable Planets, Arrested Development, Spearhead, Tribe Called Quest, etc. If you like these artists; you’ll love Sundial. It could be argued that if you like PE, NWA and Paris you’ll also appreciate this album. It’s hard to pinpoint who she reminds me of. There are definite touch points to Chicagoan’s Common and Change the Rapper whilst hints of Erykah Badu constantly shine through as well.
The album doesn’t come without controversy. The album features a verse from Jay Electronica who’s opinions have polarised many music fans due to his views on many subjects. Noname’s inclusion of Electronica has ruffled a few feathers. She has been un-apologetic for his appearance. As her indifference to her music appealing to white fans. There is little doubt that Noname uses her platform to share her views. I admit that you find a need to be invested into ‘Sundial’, and at times it can be daunting. Rightfully so, the smooth jazz backing won’t be able to hide the thought-provoking lyrics throughout the album.
Do I relate to all of the album? No. This album wasn’t made for me. In fact I’m most likely the last person she made this album for. Does it make me think? Yes. Am I enjoying it? Yes.
I’m still working my way through, but what I love about this album is that she has created a complicated piece of work that sounds great and will provoke thoughts every time anyone listens to it. I’m looking forward to what you’re thinking….
thisisnothappening.net 
Great write up, Nolan, and I’m so glad you chose this album. I’d be aware of Noname for a few years, but I first time I really fell for a track of hers was her single, Rainforest, a couple of years back. I loved the deft way on that track that she critiqued black culture’s intersection with capitalism (that sounds ridiculous dry when I write it down, but it really works!).
This album picks up Rainforest’s direction and runs with it hard. Noname feels like somewhere between a conscious hip-hop artist and a performance poet, and again, if that sounds a bit dry, it’s anything but. That’s because she’s also a talented songwriter who knows the value of a good hook, and this album is rich in classy soul-inflected samples and muscular beats (and GREAT production, that’s worth a mention too).
Over an unbelievably tight 31 minutes and 11 songs, she takes on an incredible array of black America’s sacred cows – Obama’s foreign policy, hip-hops relationship with the NFL and the military, the uneasy relationship between white fans and rap, as well as more obvious targets like the militarisation of the policy and the pressure on female black artists to present themselves in a certain light. It’s worth mentioning the cover here, which is really arresting and uncomfortable, presenting Noname in a strange drawing that renders features as a semi-grotesque caricature, grey hairs sprouting from her head. It’s an arresting and challenging album cover and gives you an insight into her brilliantly uncompromising approach.
All of this makes it sounds like it’s a tough listen – but actually, it slips down SO easily, because of the rootsy hip hop vibes – I’d say as well as Erykah Badu, I’d also actually add Lauren Hill, another pretty uncompromising artist with a sweet, sweet sound. It also has a host of well-used guest artist – Ayoni and Common being particular highlights, and it’s grown on me every single time I’ve heard it, to the extent that I’m pretty certain it’ll feature in my top 10 at the end of the year.
What a great choice, what a great album. Thanks Brother Nolan!
What an interesting album. It was me who suggested to Nolan that he choose it for AOTM … and ironically, it might be me struggling with it the most. Perhaps ‘struggling’ is not the right word … I am simply not enjoying it anywhere near as much as I thought I would given many of it’s characteristics.
The things I love …
– Uncompromising lyrics
– No fucks given approach to sharing her thoughts and beliefs
– Great lyrical flow
– I love her voice
– … is ‘Namesake’ the track of 2023?
– The guest spots are brilliant!
– Jay Electronica’s verse is an album highlight (if you look at it purely from a flow perspective) … more on this to follow in another reply
– The more angular, syncopated beats
The things that I simply don’t love …
– The 90’s/00’s nu-soul-isms (and I love 90’s/00’s nu-soul). It feels tired, it feels generic and a little lazy?
– Associated with the above, some of the hooks feel generic and heard it before. I am literally waiting for them to be over every time they pop up. Their use feels mechanical.
– The album is 31 minutes long … but somehow also feels like a slog
– Despite containing some of the most interesting lyrics … the album takes a dip after ‘Beauty Supply’ … before picking up in a grand finale with Oblivion. That’s three tracks were the energy of the album seems to leak.
Like Nolan wrote, I am still on a journey with this one. My enjoyment is trending upwards but it’s been a very bumpy ride for me.
Last to the party for a change, but having had absolutely no idea who noname was when you picked it brother Nolan, I’m so glad you did. Because it’s one of the best hip-hop albums I’ve listened to in ages.
None of you should be surprised by this, given the music and style. Given my love for Native Tongues and that more conscious, easy flow and the hooks that make it so appealing, this landed right in my wheelhouse straight away. In fact I’d go as far as echoing Joey and agree that namesake is one of my tracks of the year, straight out of the blocks. But more of that in a bit.
Having listened – as I often to – to the album without any context for a good few goes, so much leapt out that made me want to come back. Let’s start with the obvious: [/Joeymode]
– the easy, lyrical, almost musical flow.
– the hooks and the music, that mostly do so much to underpin all the verses so well
– 31 minutes. THIRTY ONE.
– a mostly great selection of guests (side from the elephant in the room)
– it zips by, and comes around again so quickly.
– the iron fist in a velvet glove where the ‘softness’ of the music belies the power in the message
We’ve been here before, but there’s something quite unique about noname’s style and delivery. It was no surprise to find she was a poet before a rapper, and that comes across in the really subtle and sometimes inventive flow that spoken word poetry lends, so it jousts with the music underneath. That starts from Black Mirror, the short opener that finds her in reflective, almost self-attacking mode. It’s a spiky start, showing that she’s just as willing to shine the light on herself and the community as take pot shots at its gods. In Hold Me Down, stating about Obama ‘first black president but he’s the one who bombed us’ may not mark her down as the first to attack Obama, but it still feels stinging.
There’s a refreshing lack of ego throughout the album. Noname’s willing to put herself in the firing line, a blend of eviscerating prose and spiritual, almost cosmic vibe that make this a fascinating listen. Because on one level you can just let this wash over you but when you get into the nuts of the verses, there’s so much memorable stuff. For someone on the very much progressive side of rap, happy to highlight her critics being ok with misogyny and violence towards women while picking holes in her statements, she’s also not afraid to contradict herself or make choices that will open her to flak.
None more so than the pick of Jay Electronica for a verse on Balloons, one of the album’s best tracks. I have to confess that I wasn’t aware of his views before I researched the album, but having done that, it’s a jarring verse (however good) so loaded with antisemitic tropes, but one she took to social media to fight back against, stating “I’m not going to apologize for a verse I didn’t write. I’m not going to apologize for including it on my album. If you feel I’m wrong for including that’s fair. Don’t listen. Unfollow and support all the other amazing rappers putting out dope music. Your disappointment truly means absolutely nothing to me and I say that with love.” It does feel a bit of a copout, but then if you give no fucks, you’re immune to anything, in theory.
Namesake is the album’s diamond though. Built on an elastic riff – produced perfectly by Slimwav – it reverberates well outside the record, from its ear-grabbing opening line ‘Itty bitty titty committee’ through the takedowns of Rhianna, Bey, Jay Kendrick and then (of course) herself. Her ire? The NFL’s alignment to the military, and those artists willingness to do the halftime show, while history shows so many modern wards built on the backs of their dead black soldiers. It’s simply a sensational record, full of fire and brimstone but delivered in a way that just makes the anger slide by so pleasantly until you dive into it.
The album can’t possibly keep up that momentum. What could? In the second half the more standard neo-soul licks do feel less vital, but Beauty Supply is powerful, and Oblivion is an immense closer, with Common’s excellent verse and Ayoni’s second eye-catching appearance. “Muthafucka I don’t care I’m gonna talk my shit” perhaps summing up the album better than anything here.
The irony here as we all (mostly) love this, is that we’re the very audience noname seeks to shed and cares least about. A history of being frustrated with the white audience that loves her work, it feels like this album is an attempt to push them away in its uncompromising vigour and barbs about everything from the military to colonialism, but you can’t help but marvel at it, whoever you are.