Beyoncé
Renaissance
Columbia/Parkwood
Listen Below
For Beyoncé’s last proper solo endeavor Lemonade (2016), she focused on the experience of women—especially Black women. Its themes of attachment, betrayal, rage, and resilience though, were relatable irrespective of gender. Now again, the global superstar is offering a hand-held tour of a subgroup experience with her grandiose, coruscating Renaissance.
True to its title, this creative reintroduction is unlike any before. The lifeblood of these 16 tracks is a reverence for the LGBTQIA+ community, and—like Lemonade—specifically the Black contingent of it. Renaissance sidesteps techno and EDM intentionally. Those are house derivatives, sanitized for commercial and mainstream appeal. Their prevalence led some to believe “only White people listen to that.” Pushing against this, Beyoncé reaches into house music’s Black and Latin queer origins to present it with the soul and seasoning it should carry.
Rather than letting any one svengali lay claim to crafting her sound, Beyoncé curates multiple collaborators in a sort of salon. She employs varied combinations of producers and writers like Mike Dean, The-Dream, Tricky Stewart, Boi-1da, Hit-Boy, Raphael Saadiq, NOVA WAV, Skrillex, No I.D., Honey Dijon, and the list goes on.
The initial listen can be overstimulating, so it helps to have a map. Some of the subgenres visited on Renaissance include entrancing ‘70s disco (“Virgo’s Groove,” “Summer Renaissance”), post-disco funk (“Cuff It,” “Honey”), drag ball anthems (“Pure,” “Cozy”), dancehall and Afrobeat (“Move,” “Energy,” “Heated”), and hip-hop-infused electronica (“Thique,” “I’m That Girl,” “All Up In Your Mind”).
“Creating this album,” Beyoncé explains, “allowed me to feel free and adventurous in a time when little else was moving. My intention was to create a safe place, a place without judgment… a place to scream, release, feel freedom.” Like an airline attendant instructing passengers to put masks on themselves before any others, Beyoncé frees herself first.
“You know, all these songs sound good ‘cause I’m on that hoe. Deadass.” Her mode is frequently frank, vulgar, and unapologetic out of necessity. A male-dominated industry accustomed to controlling women requires modesty as expected business attire. Renaissance simply will not wear that. As its tempo drifts up and down, “I’m That Girl” repurposes late Memphis rapstress Princess Loko as its metronome (“Please! Motherfuckers ain’t stoppin’ me!”). Despite its energy, it’s only the warmup to the workout.
The main event begins with the huffing, abusive beats of “Cozy” that get down on all fours like an animal. Though it applies Right Said Fred’s “I’m Too Sexy” to its chorus, “Alien Superstar” is more like a reincarnation of Pet Shop Boys’ synthy new-wave “West End Girls.” Fully untethered since The Carters’ EVERYTHING IS LOVE (2018), Beyoncé now freely shifts between melody and monologue as the art dictates.
The clean-edged “Cuff It” gets back to basics, wading waist deep in leathery, mid-‘80s soul. Nile Rodgers’ guitar work recalls Daft Punk’s “Get Lucky,” and halfway through, the drums slam harder than the trunk of a ’75 Lincoln Continental. “Energy” makes a smooth entrance but soon lets off shots (“I just entered the country with derringers / ‘Cause them Karens just turned into terrorists”). No need to stop dancing; the transition into the next track won’t allow it anyway.
Lead single “Break My Soul” embodies the irrepressible spirit of the downtrodden, rallying them to rise. Big Freedia’s commandment to “release the wiggle” becomes the unofficial mission statement of Renaissance and gets unexpectedly amplified by a choir cameo. The title of “Church Girl” seemed to indicate it would be the album’s “gospel moment.” Conversely, it upturns The Clark Sisters’ “Center of Thy Will” like a repurposed milk crate—providing a platform upon which to throw that ass in a circle. Sprinkling New Orleans bounce on both, Beyoncé enlarges the passageway between secular and sacred.
There are few breaks in the disc’s continuous mix, and precious few dips in energy. Its midpoint provides a brief oasis with the paradisiacal “Plastic Off The Sofa,” a jazzy R&B uptempo framed in lustrous chords and curly tufts of George Benson-esque guitar. It escalator-slides right up to the delicious “Virgo’s Groove.” Although she dramatically curtailed use of melisma after 4 (2011), Bey’s runs are back and I really missed them. She stashes some impressive ones on “Plastic” and “Virgo.” Such vocal maneuvers are not easily replicated and command respect.
Between projects, Beyoncé thoroughly explored Afrobeat on The Lion King: The Gift (2019), but she didn’t have the legendary Grace Jones in her squad when she did. Joined with Jones and Nigerian singer Tems, these woman-kings unite for “Move,” a bulletproof Mean Girl anthem (“Move out the way! / I’m with my girls and we all need space! / When the queen come through / Part like the Red Sea”).
While the Drake co-write “Heated” also embraces motherland rhythms, it more prominently toasts ball commentators of drag culture. She dives even deeper, stitching together pieces from gay emblems Kevin JZ Prodigy, Kevin Aviance, and Moi Renee on the futuristic, body-jacking “Pure/Honey.” The improvised emceeing on “Heated” finds Beyoncé intermittently calling out “Uncle Jonny made my dress / That cheap Spandex, she looks a mess!”
Renaissance is dedicated in part to this uncle whom she honored at length in a 2019 speech at the GLAAD Awards, highlighting his influence and the heartbreak of losing him to HIV. The joyful tribute lends him a dignity often denied by Black families of AIDS victims. The way Renaissance shines light on an otherwise overlooked group emphasizes the humanity of those who thrive in it.
Despite its power to unify, dance music can be dismissed as repetition and homogeny. Beyoncé’s artistic use of it as a medium, however, investigates hidden corners of the genre with complex arrangements and atypical melodies. Parliament-Funkadelic, Prince, Diana Ross, and Michael Jackson flavor her exploration without stooping to mimicry.
One final icon is lifted high on “Summer Renaissance.” Donna Summer’s seminal “I Feel Love” invokes the hedonism of galloping into Studio 54 on a mirror-mosaicked horse. Handclaps and call-and-response vocals build a bridge between Sunday morning and Saturday night. It’s a grand close and fitting ersatz title track to this ambitious project. The entire record is a rich, rich dessert—and it’s only Act 1 of a forthcoming trilogy.
“Listen, honey,” prefaces Chrystal West exigently. “If you haven't seen Paris Is Burning, Kiki, Pose, or subscribed to Ballroom Throwback Television on YouTube… If the idea of going into a sketchy warehouse to dance shoulder to shoulder with strangers until the cops come and you run for your life doesn't excite you… Renaissance may not be for you.”
And it might not be. But it would be such a shame to miss this opportunity, because—my God—what a ride.
Notable Tracks: “Church Girl” | “Cuff It” | “Plastic Off The Sofa” | “Summer Renaissance”
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