Album Review: Baby by Dijon
Dijon crafted much of Baby at home with his new family, channeling the chaos and joy of first-time parenthood into an expansive yet concise 12-track statement.
Much has changed for Dijon since Absolutely. In the four years since his acclaimed debut, he’s been anything but idle. Recently, he quietly co-wrote and produced several songs on Justin Bieber’s surprise album Swag, including standout tracks like “Daisies,” “Yukon,” and “Things You Do,” and even lent his raspy vocals to “Devotion.” At the same time, he popped up in a Paul Thomas Anderson film trailer opposite Leonardo DiCaprio, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it cameo that hints at his expanding creative footprint. Known for his perfectionism and genre-blurring artistry, Dijon resisted releasing any solo material during this period, preferring to hone his craft behind the scenes.
Most notably, he became a father, and he’s channeled the drama, ecstasy, and anxiety of new parenthood directly into Baby. In fact, the album is named after his infant son, and it was created mainly in isolation at home with his young family. Longtime collaborators like producer Andrew Sarlo and multi-instrumentalist Henry Kwapis returned to help shape the project, keeping the vibe intimate and handcrafted. (Frequent partner Mk.gee even pops up with a credit on the dreamy closing track.) A press release describes it as “a collection of songs that represent the mania of domesticity,” examining how rapidly life has changed for Dijon since becoming a dad. It does feel like the product of late nights and early mornings, of a mind racing with inspiration even amid diaper changes and delirious joy. It builds on Absolutely’s boundless, experimental composition but from a more focused, family-oriented perspective. And despite its relatively lean 37-minute runtime, the album manages to be sonically adventurous and emotionally resonant in equal measure—deftly marrying innovation with intimacy.
Right from the jump, “Baby!” announces that this record will not stay in one category. The track erupts with slicing, overdriven guitars that cut through the mix like a buzzsaw, marrying his alt-R&B songwriting sensibilities to a bristling post-punk energy. It’s a brash and exhilarating opener—Dijon’s soulful voice croons and cries out amid the guitar stabs and skittering percussion, creating a jolt of contrast. The effect is both chaotic and purposeful, as if he’s translating the disorienting thrill of a newborn’s first hours into sound. Following that explosive introduction, “Another Baby!” takes a surprising turn into smoother territory. Its production nods to the plush sounds of 1990s R&B—think gentle piano chords, velvety bass lines, and a laid-back midtempo groove. Dijon delivers his vocals with a silken ease, channeling the unbounded emotional outpouring of ‘90s neo-soul crooners. Yet beneath the track’s mellow, nostalgic sheen lies an undercurrent of complex feelings. The song’s easy vibe belies some challenging ideas in the lyrics (which reflect on the weight of responsibility and love) and serves as an homage to an era of R&B when expressing raw emotion was the norm.
“Tried to laugh with my baby
But you made that face
I said, ‘If I could take your pain
You know I would, you know I would.’” — Dijon on “Baby!”
“HIGHER!” is a showcase of Dijon’s auteurship: every sonic flourish here feels painstakingly considered. The song layers fragmentary melodies, vocal harmonies, and off-kilter drum programming into something strangely cohesive and utterly captivating. One moment features Dijon’s voice drenched in reverb, yearning skyward; the next is punctuated by an unexpected chord change or sample that twists the mood. There’s an almost maximalist approach at work; he’s throwing his whole toolbox of sounds into the mix, yet the result never feels overwrought. Instead, this track captures the euphoric peak of his fatherhood journey (as the title suggests), overflowing with joy and creative daring. Immediately after, “(Freak It)” shatters that euphoria like a mirror thrown to the floor. It’s one of the album’s most sonically adventurous cuts, effectively tossing Dijon’s crystalline vocals into a dub-like echo chamber. The track is built on a deep, woozy groove that sounds submerged in water, with rimshot drums and bass hits reverberating into negative space. Dijon’s voice appears in snippets and vapor trails—he coos a line, which then fractures and repeats in dizzying echoes as if the song itself is freaking out.
The album’s midpoint presents two polar opposite highlights. First comes “Yamaha,” a forward-looking piece that finds Dijon gazing toward the horizon of sound. The track is built on layers of ethereal synths and pulsing loops, evoking the avant-garde spirit of Laurie Anderson’s classic “O Superman” in its use of hypnotic repetition and vocoder-like vocal textures. There’s a distinctly ’80s synth-soul reference point here too—glassy keyboard tones and a shuffling electronic beat that could almost score a retro-futurist R&B jam session. Dijon uses these elements to untether himself from expectations, freely experimenting with structure and form. He lets the song swirl and build in a controlled chaos of overlapping motifs, much like his earlier hit “Many Times,” but here the chaos is more focused and spacious. While that was him peering into a neon-lit future, “FIRE!” is him tossing a lit match behind him and dancing as everything burns. This track is a distorted, rule-book–shredding burst of body funk that jarringly flips the album’s script. Imagine someone scrunching up the pages of the music theory rulebook and hurling them into a wastebasket—that’s the spirit of the song, as it’s one of the year’s best.
Baby gently pulls us back in with “(Referee),” one of Dijon’s most heartfelt and inviting moments. The song unfolds like an after-hours confessional: hushed, warm, and disarmingly vulnerable. Over a subdued, slow-dance groove, Dijon’s voice is front and center, more unmistakable than it’s been since the album began, and it quivers with emotion. Dijon seems to be seeking guidance or mediation (true to the title) in the chaos of his new life, making earnest pleas that land like fragments of an intimate conversation. That intimacy paves the way for “Rewind,” which continues the pared-down approach and highlights Dijon’s talent as an alt-R&B composer. This meager backdrop allows the emotional weight of the song to hit even harder. Dijon’s vocals, raspy and rich, carry a sense of nostalgia and yearning as he reflects on moments already slipping into the past. In its own quiet way, “Rewind” is a masterclass in restraint and atmosphere—the kind of deep-cut that reveals new layers with each listen, and a reminder that Dijon’s indie-R&B sensibilities remain sharp.
“That your heart’s in a big decline
That your brain’s back in rewind.” — Dijon on “Rewind”
As Baby nears its conclusion, Dijon traces a gentle storytelling arc where each song flows naturally into the next, building toward a deeply personal climax. The emotional heart of the album emerges in the pairing of “My Man” and “Loyal & Marie.” Placed back-to-back, these two tracks feel like companion pieces, both exploring themes of devotion, memory, and the bonds that anchor us. “My Man” is one of the longest songs here, and Dijon layers repetitive, raspy crooning with vast backing vocals and a subtly spacey outro that stretches the atmosphere wide. There’s a sense of narrative continuity, as if he’s piecing together snapshots of friendship or family—the song could be an address to a dear friend or even a nod to his own baby boy in a colloquial way. Whatever the interpretation, it radiates warmth and honesty. “Loyal & Marie,” meanwhile, spotlights Dijon’s gleaming falsetto as he sings perhaps from the perspective of or about loved ones (the title hints at personal names, possibly representing his partner and child). Over a soft, slow-burning arrangement, he wrestles with what loyalty and love mean in this new chapter of life. You can hear the gratitude and fear intertwined in his voice—the ecstasy of having something (and someone) to live for, and the anxiety of how fragile it all can be. These two tracks together form the soul of Baby, the point where Dijon’s thematic storytelling—about commitment, change, and unconditional love—hits its peak.
As those tracks are the climax of the story, “Automatic” arrives as part of Baby’s experimental core, yet it carries an emotional plea that resonates deeply. Built around an intriguing collage of samples and distant vocal snippets, the song has an almost hallucinatory quality—a reminder of the album’s exploratory spirit. Laced on syrupy loops and an almost Eastern-tinged drone that hums beneath the surface, the atmosphere on “Kindalove” is thick and warm; you can practically see sunlight filtering through curtains in the early morning as the track plays. Dijon seems to be reflecting, maybe even finding peace, as he sings a lilting melody over repetitive instrumental motifs. There’s a gentle psychedelic flavor to it, where the loops layer and evolve like a calming mantra, and faint hints of exotic scale choices or instrumentation give it a subtly spiritual vibe. (One could imagine the influence of world music or ambient drone here, lending the song a transcendental quality beyond typical R&B boundaries.) As a meditative finale, “Kindalove” feels like a lullaby for the journey we’ve just been on. It doesn’t try to steal the spotlight or end with a bang; instead, it lets the album down easy, radiating a sense of contentment and closure. It’s a perfect ending for a project that, for all its patchwork of styles and bold ideas, is held together by one unwavering through-line: unconditional love.
Throughout Baby, Dijon balances daring studio fireworks with disarming emotional sincerity. This is an album where blistering guitar riffs, glitchy electronics, and dubby deconstructions coexist with soul-baring lyrics and tender melodies, and somehow, that marriage feels completely natural. Dijon has always been a shape-shifter, blending genres and defying expectations, but here his experiments serve a deeply personal purpose. Innovation and intimacy go hand in hand on Baby: the unconventional song structures and production tricks amplify the truths he’s conveying about love, fear, and growth, rather than obscuring them. What we got is a record that succeeds brilliantly on two levels. On one level, it’s a bold exploration of sound, as inventive in its R&B craftsmanship as anything out right now (fans of Prince’s audacity or Frank Ocean’s introspection will find much to love). On another level, it’s a moving diary of new fatherhood and partnership, filled with vulnerability and affection. When Dijon sings of sleepless nights, overwhelming joy, or creeping self-doubt, you believe every word. The fact that he can make those sentiments hit home while also pushing his music into strange, electrifying new directions is what makes Baby special.
In carving out this concise yet expansive creative statement, Dijon has delivered one of the year’s standout albums and arguably his finest work to date. Baby feels like the culmination of all his quiet perfectionism and high-profile seasoning over the past few years, distilled into 12 adventurous tracks that demand to be experienced as a whole. It’s the sound of an artist fully coming into his own, harnessing his wild imagination in the service of genuine intimacy. Few albums manage to be so sonically fearless yet so deeply humane at the same time. Dijon pulls it off with apparent ease, and that makes Baby a triumph.
Standout (★★★★½)
Favorite Tracks: “Baby!,” “HIGHER!,” “FIRE!,” “Rewind”