Album Review: Bloom by Durand Bernarr
With his third studio album and a follow-up to last year’s EP, Durand Bernarr presents a record that accentuates affection in all its permutations: romantic, platonic, communal, and self-oriented.
One might look at Durand Bernarr and assume his rise happened overnight, yet that impression overlooks the prolonged dedication fueling every note he sings. Raised in Cleveland’s Glenville neighborhood—an area that also shaped Bone Thugs-n-Harmony—he was practically immersed in music before he could form his own opinions about it. Growing up, he observed his mother’s stewardship as a music teacher and choir director around the city, while his father utilized his technical expertise for luminaries like Whitney Houston and Beyoncé. This familial arsenal of musical proficiency reinforced his passion early on, leading him from local choirs to theater productions at Karamu House Theatre. He honed his vocals and ability to command a stage within these spaces, revealing an appetite and zest for expression that would carry him beyond Cleveland’s borders. By the time he reached his teens, he had already absorbed multiple influences that quietly foreshadowed his later ability to roam across styles and genres easily.
By the time he hit his teens, Bernarr was dissecting vocal structures and rearranging them to fit his playful interpretations. The presence of influential figures in his household fostered a multi-layered understanding of studio work and live production, as his father’s audio engineering background laid bare the complexities of sound reinforcement. Bernarr first observed the synergy between artist and technician in these studio corners, translating intangible performance energy into recorded clarity. These lessons resonated deeply in his practice sessions, influencing how he eventually approached songwriting and stage presence. Hence, when he served as a young production assistant for Earth, Wind & Fire, he already possessed an openness and attention to detail that stood out. This brush with an iconic ensemble gave him the impetus to think bigger, culminating in the creative leaps he would take shortly afterward.
His 2023 appearance on NPR’s Tiny Desk turned a spotlight onto the decades of diligence he had poured into building his credibility as a singer, songwriter, and all-around creative force. While some might have discovered him through that viral performance, those who had followed his work recognized the cohesion between earlier pieces like 2020’s DUR& and newer ventures such as last year’s En Route. For him, each release reflected a specific phase of personal transformation, marked by moments of introspection, therapy, and renewed self-awareness, including the vastly underrated Wanderlust. It leads seamlessly to Bloom, a record that accentuates affection in all its permutations: romantic, platonic, communal, and self-oriented.
Bernarr underscores his inclination to transform lived accounts into thoughtful artistry by carefully threading these ideas. The transition feels apt for an artist whose early years were defined by community choirs and online ventures—each experience contributing layers to a voice that continues to surpass expectations. Let’s get this out: The first single does not tell the whole story. However, it gives us a glimpse of where we’re headed. The lyrically verbose and musically enjoyable “Impact” highlights personal closeness and inadvertent social missteps. Bernarr creates a conversational tone that invites introspection into the intention behind actions and the sometimes unintended consequences they bring. Throughout, his wit and linguistic flair transform what could be tedious experiences into vivid tales of relationships marked by humor and humanity, ultimately suggesting that the closeness and occasional jostling inherent to personal connections create a complex yet rewarding space of learning and affection.
Don’t expect a rehash of his previous efforts as Durand Bernarr continues evolving. You will understand once you hear the slow-burning tunes of “Generous” before it switches into a rock-inspired breakdown. He eloquently chronicles a personal transformation imbued with themes of healing and selflessness. Through contemplative reflection, Bernarr crafts a vivid metaphorical landscape in which familial and personal struggles are likened to “blood on the leaves,” hinting at the deep wounds that have stained his “family tree,” setting the tone for the rest of his third album. He also elevates shared trauma in “Here We Are” to something almost mystical, suggesting a cosmic interconnectedness transcending the mundane where mutual experiences of heartbreak become a foundation for connection. But when it comes to the addicting “No Business,” he expresses his deep, passionate love for someone, suggesting Bernarr cannot love another person the same way.
“BLAST!” exhibits a complex interplay of introspective emotions mixed with celebratory declarations as he reflects on the paradoxes of human connection and self-perception, and the opposite end, “Reaching,” beautifully articulates the tension between personal desires and external pressures in a way that resonates deeply with the human experience; it’s a poignant meditation on the struggle to find equilibrium amid overwhelming demands and the relentless pursuit of meaning. Bernarr sings his heart out throughout like he should and gets personal. “Speciality” examines the concept of time, affection, and personal reflection. When he sings these opening lines, “I heard about time when it's free/It’s barely even down with me,” it immediately presents the theme of time as an elusive and precious commodity.
Even with the personable content, Durand Bernarr continues to give us anthems. Backed by finger snaps and an upbeat jam, “Jump” tackles the tension between desire and discipline, offering a rich reflection on personal boundaries and the consequences of impulsive actions. Bernarr urges us to prioritize self-care, acknowledging that “Desire feels good, but discipline won’t save you.” With “PSST!” he is aware of some “unsavory things” attached to the other person’s name and wants to address this privately. T-Pain hops on the uptempo and lighthearted “THAT!” when he and Bernarr meticulously examine the cyclic nature of change and resistance, pondering the futility of remaining unchanged amid an inevitable transformation. They navigate personal accountability, resistance to change, and the perpetual quest for self-understanding, which is what one of the key takeaways from Bloom is about.
Everybody and their mama can relate to “Overqualified.” This groovy production has Bernarr confronting the paradox of his capabilities, questioning how he finds himself “overqualified” yet unable to align his abilities with the opportunities before him. The dichotomy of feeling both seen and unseen permeates throughout the song, as he remarks on standing on business until someone else can meet him on similar terms, an aspiration for a shared vision and mutual acknowledgment. Through botanical metaphors, Bernarr and GAWD draw parallels between personal growth and the natural process of nurturing plants with the lively “Flounce,” emphasizing the importance of support and respect in interpersonal bonds (“But I won’t pluck you and fuck up your roots.”). “Completed” has him channeling his Prince bag as he runs with a story through a transformative connection with a loved one, reflecting an evolution from old, perhaps unproductive patterns into a renewed partnership characterized by empathy and self-awareness, especially on the powerful “Unspoken.”
When we get to the album’s closer, “Home Alone,” there’s an expression of trust and vulnerability in relationships. The song also grapples with the tension between independence and reliance, offering a narrative on surrendering personal strength for collective empowerment: “I resigned from being strong/No need to push it on my own.” Bernarr maps an outing where strength originates from communal ties rather than individual fortitude, crafting a perspective where solitude seems almost foreign. The piteous acknowledgment, “Guess I’ll never know how it feels to be alone/Cause I’ve had you by my side,” succinctly reveals the invaluable nature of enduring connections. Bernarr’s lyrical narrative on Bloom convincingly conveys a world where collective human experience triumphs over solitary endurance, illustrating the power of unity and shared existence without ever feeling contrived.
Standout (★★★★½)
Favorite Track(s): “Flounce,” “No Business,” “Overqualified,” “Unspoken”
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