Since the release of her debut album Iridescent last year, Ayoni has proven herself a true force of talent. The Barbadian-born, LA-based singer is redefining conceptions of genre and creating space for other young Black creatives in the industry to do the same. She refuses to be categorized into the narrow labels of others: “I’m always R&B,” she once said in an interview. “That’s the first thing people will say, and I’m like, ‘Is that it? Is that all you feel from the music?’ I want there to be space for the Black singer who has this indie-folk sound and is still giving us pop.”
She’s accomplished this by a landslide: spend some time with her music even briefly and you’ll see that she creates a rich world of sound that sparks no immediate comparisons. It’s completely her own. Whether you like her music or not, you’ve got to admire its unapologetic originality.
Ayoni once described the inspiration for the collection: “It relishes in the intensity of the heights because it knows that the lows will come, and it holds you through them. Iridescent is heartbreak, loneliness, pain, anger, joy, power, peace, lust, love, and destiny, but most of all it is true. I am iridescent. This is my coming of age and an extended invitation to the world I created for myself.”
The result is an album that shines in its own frequency, an eight-track exploration of self-love and healing. Ayoni allows us a very personal glimpse into her ever-evolving inner world, and shines light on her own ‘divine’ femininity.
Right from the opener Wife You Up, she sets her tone. The song is a defiant and powerful declaration of womanhood, a refusal to be used or disrespected: “I’m Iridescent can’t you see? / Did you think you’d be the death of me? / Even in the dark there’s a light in she.” Her voice is epic, hitting notes that seem to come from some otherworldly register.
But no song shows off her vocal dexterity better than the second track Santa Monica. She effortlessly spans every range, from a piping soprano in the chorus to a rumbling bass in the bridge (“If I can’t have you I’ll slay these men and we’ll all bleed out"). It’s unbelievably impressive.
A few songs have her fully basking in love and desire. For You and Malibu are especially sexy, and about the latter she once gave great context: “I wanted to create a song that highlights the beauty of passion and lust while also exploring the security I felt in such vulnerability.”
Other songs find her facing the aftermath of such relationships, the most emotionally-flooded being September, in which the singer tells a past lover that she's moved on and found her own happiness. And yet it’s far from a song of joyful triumph, taking on a somber tone instead. “My love for you is gone / My need for you is gone” she sings, but with a repetition that makes her words hard to believe. Instead they come across as a heavy attempt to let go of something while still living through the raw emotion of it. As the song goes on, she confesses under her breath how she still wonders, “Why’d you leave me? / You looked happy / Me you’d love you swore.” The song’s ultra-specific lyrics makes its conflicting emotions feel all-the-more real.
Ayoni has also said that through this debut project, she strives to hold a platform for the marginalized people who are traditionally neglected and overlooked. By conveying her personal identity and experience as an empowered Black female creative in a largely whitewashed industry, she sets the stage for others to follow suit. In this way she manages to speak collectively while still communicating her own truth.
Best encompassing this magic of her music is Divine. In her own words: "It's become the peoples' song to me, in the sense that the Black community, the queer community, femmes, the larger community of colour, and every other single soul society has ‘Othered’ can celebrate our divinity daily, and hopefully celebrate it even more when it plays.” The song’s sunny, tropical rhythms – paying tribute to her Caribbean pride – invite a new type of celebration: one for self-love and actualization in all its bright beauty.
Having now listened through the album many times, her description of its overarching impression makes perfect sense: “Iridescent is a good night when you realize it; the dance floor at 3am, the arms of your lover, a freeway ride, and newfound freedom. It is also the morning after, the train ride home, and the silence when the door closes and you’re alone again.”
Perfectly titled, Iridescent presents Ayoni on her journey of self-discovery and generously lets us in on the experience.
Happy listening! :)
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