Review Summary: just banging tunes and dj sets and dirty dancefloors and dreams of naughtiness
How the turntables.
Back in 2017, Jessie Ware was almost done with music. While her first album,
Devotion, obtained its shiny Mercury Prize nomination thanks to its slick sophisti-pop, the formula only made minimal waves in the following years. 2017's
Glasshouse saw a tepid reception precede a disaster of a US tour that lost precious moolah - and a Coachella set that clashed with Cardi's at the top of the Cardicraze.
Bref. Things were shitty for Jessie Ware then, and she rightfully decided to leave music temporarily. On top of a loving family (can't stress enough how important this is), her first saving grace came through
Table Manners, a food podcast co-hosted with her mum (lovely!) whose success (over 50 million listens) helped Ware overcome her latest musical disappointments. Ok, batteries: recharged. Time for the comeback. And what a comeback: Ware delivered one of the best records of 2020,
What's Your Pleasure, by switching her wine-tasting decantor for the brightest disco ball.
What's Your Pleasure's power rang especially true in the wake of the early-pandemic disco revival: although Dua Lipa garnered most of the mainstream awards and streaming revenues, Ware was the one diva that benefited the most from that short craze - her highest U.K. chart debut, her first album of the Year nod at the BRIT Awards, and a tour slot opening for Harry Styles aren't too shabby accolades. That has to do with the record's organic nature that channeled the euphoria and sensuality of a night out, deftly showing Ware understood best that disco has that sense of joy people need when things are going to shit. It felt genuine, buoyant, and fucking contagious.
That! Feels Good! is all that, but it goes to eleven. It doesn't even feel ashamed to repeat the formula its predecessor established: the opener sees Ware torridly susurrates
"That feels good, do it again", before a phat bassline, punchy drumming, undulating keys, and fiery horns all crash together in celebration of the dancefloor. These five elements - Ware's voice, bass, drums, piano, and horns - constitute the backbone of
That! Feels Good. The same could be said about the 2020 record, but they are now played even more celebratorily, gathering broader influences into their joyous vacuum. Said opener thus invokes a Funkadelic-influenced ebullition enhanced by a pristine production by Stuart Price (producer of equally banging record
Confessions on a Dancefloor by da Madonna).
Likewise, "Free Yourself" is a tune that understood how to make Ware's music dancier, her blasting vocals channeling the most diva aspect of house music. Most importantly, it's
a great song: its self-confidence oozes from the raging chorus whose memorability is only increased by the tension brought by a bridge that wraps up every musical idea of the tune into a final-minute folly of a breakdown. "Pearls" also echoes past diva greats with Ware's aerial vocals. In instances like that, she showcases how high she can reach while still giving enough space for the layered soundscape to breathe: from the sinuous bass to the bouncy drums or the twinkling keys, every detail is present only to make the booty shake. "Freak Me Now" converges to the same objective, but this time the strobe lights bead French House sweat, once again proving the goal to provide bangers does not limit itself to the confines of Ware's previously known soundscape. It also shows that, while somewhat lacking the Sadean class bleeding from
What's Your Pleasure,
That! Feels Good is a
dance album, one that's mostly made for the thicc smokiness of a club dancefloor.
That "mostly" refers to the few tunes that would not induce the stormiest riots but rather some lower abdomen's voluptuous inclinations. "Lightning" reminisces of Ware's good ol' mid-tempo R&B, but still provides groove through thudding percussions. "Hello Love" features the same duality: it's grand thanks to Ware's dynamic singing, and breezy thanks to London afrobeat collective Kokoroko. The band appears on various tracks, only adding to the further-pushed organicity. "Begin Again" thus features Brazil influences carried by the brass' soulful warmth that's trading punches with Ware's typically-disco vocal inclinations, before concluding its course with every instrument rising together in maximalist joy. Ware's vocals most prominently carry that joy. She always had a gorgeous voice, but she now exudes the confidence of those that
know they are mastering their art. She balances brash, RuPaul-like attitude ("Shake the Bottle") with sultry invitations to more kinky stuff to come ("These Lips") or tries some early 80s rapping before effortlessly reaching high notes on the Kokoroko-backed "Beautiful People".
That! Feels Good! is a victory lap, to varying degrees. In the age of eighty-minute mainstream albums, I like to think of this record as a statement: ten tracks, forty minutes really is the perfect package for a pop record that oozes sophistication while not taking itself too seriously, and that knows when to trade the bomb-ass-thicc with lovers' lullabies. This record is also a revenge. Six years after considering abandoning her music career,
That! Feels Good is Jessie Ware at her most exultant, happy to just let go, dance, and enjoy herself. And she's so genuine that now that's all I want to do too.
