Album Review: Exile by Chronixx
Chronixx remains captivating as ever, and the themes of identity, resilience, and community on his much-anticipated second album are handled with sincerity.
Exile arrives eight years after Chronixx’s Grammy‑nominated debut, Chronology, and is built around a conceptual tension: how to root the music firmly in reggae while also pushing it forward. Produced entirely by Inflo, the polymath behind SAULT, Cleo Sol, Michael Kiwanuka, and Adele, the record fuses classic roots textures with rich soul influences and an experimental edge. It’s an ambitious choice that sometimes lands: the opening title track glides over slow dub chords and shimmering strings, as Chronixx repeats that “Jah love is shining day and night” and urges listeners to “have no fear.” The warmth of his voice matches the production’s lushness; the album often feels both timeless and urgently contemporary, a feat no small for a reggae record released this year.
Inflo’s touch is felt most vividly on songs like “Market.” He narrates a trip to the local market with his partner, describing pumpkins, avocados, and callaloo with almost journalistic detail. Over a chunky bassline and swirling horns, he laments skyrocketing prices (“She blame it pon inflation and a tell mi time hard”) before slipping into a feverish verse about farmers, herbal teas, and coconut cream. The arrangement mirrors his storytelling: it’s busy, layered, and messy in places, but that controlled chaos feels alive. When the record succeeds, it’s because Inflo finds grooves that complement Chronixx’s patois cadences instead of smothering them.
Chronixx’s voice remains a powerful instrument. Reggaeville notes that on Exile, he sounds “warm, righteous, and defiant,” and that’s true: he sings with conviction without losing his melodic sensibility. He uses his tenor to reinforce themes of identity and community. “Family First” places an R&B‑leaning Reggae beat under lines like “I put the family first/For better for worse,” and he salutes relatives and elders with a sincerity that avoids sentimentality. On “Survivor,” he becomes a griot, honoring a “junglist warrior” and a “lioness ruler” while warning them not to “let them corrupt your mind”. Even when the lyrics veer into mantra—“Jah never let you down” is repeated dozens of times—the earnestness in his tone holds the repetition together.
That repetition, however, is also the record’s weakness. At seventeen tracks, Exile occasionally feels padded. “Sweet Argument,” a lovers’ rock pastiche, hinges on a slightly juvenile hook—“Put young gyal belly inna pain”—that feels out of place amidst songs about spiritual exile. “Genesis” opens promisingly with “There’s a first time for everything” and “You are my genesis,” but quickly devolves into a series of repeated declarations that drain the song of momentum. The decision to include a remastered 2025 version of 2022’s “Never Give Up” doesn’t help pacing either; its repeated chorus (“Never give up the fight”) would be galvanizing on its own, but here it appears after several mid‑tempo tracks, which makes the second half of the album sag.
Chronixx is at his best when he draws on the everyday. “Market” is essentially a piece of social reportage disguised as a dancehall jam. He talks to vendors and highlights economic hardship, “Nuh wonder why the people dem starving/Nuh wonder why the farmer man a bawl,” while also celebrating communal resilience. “Saviour” aims at politicians and gang leaders who claim to be liberators: he taunts “You tell the people that you are their saviour… could you tell me then who’s gonna save ya?” and warns that boasting brings karmic consequences when “you reap the fruits of your labour.” The best line might be his biblical nod: “Like Daniel with the lions, they couldn’t keep I down,” which ties personal endurance to a broader spiritual narrative.
He returns to motifs of faith and uplift. “Keep On Rising” is a motivational anthem that tells the listener there’s a “burning fire in your heart” and encourages them to “fight with everything you got.” The chorus is simple yet effective, and the verses emphasise community solidarity: “Jah Jah gave us the heart of a lion… we’re strong and free.” With that same vein, “Hurricane” uses storm imagery to describe divine protection—“In the eye of the hurricane I heard you whispered and called my name”—and the arrangement leaves space for Chronixx’s vocals to breathe. These songs succeed because they marry clear, evocative imagery with melodies that feel lived‑in rather than forced.
Romantic material is more hit-or-miss. “Pain in Your Heart” pairs a lilting groove with compassionate lines like “Every tear you cry means something sacred to me,” but the hook’s repetition of “Is this real love… is this real love” feels generic compared to the vivid storytelling of “Market.” “Resilient,” a duet‑styled ballad, is stronger; it frames love as a partnership built on mutual strength and acknowledges that no man can fully understand a woman’s pain. Chronixx sings, “There is always a place to lay your head/Never replace this love with anything,” and Inflo’s stripped‑back arrangement highlights his vocal sincerity.
As the album winds down, Chronixx turns introspective. “I and I” is a prayerful affirmation that insists, “I will never lose my faith… Jah will always be our light.” The lyrics are simple, but the layered harmonies and dub bass create a meditative atmosphere. “Scheming” sees Chronixx return to admonitions, warning listeners about people who “smile with two faces” and act like “snakes in the grass.” Over a minor‑key riddim, he advises, “Let them keep scheming… they will reveal all them dark ways”. The album closes with “Love Is On the Mountain,” a gentle track that reassures grieving siblings—“Sister, why you crying/Brother, why you weeping”—and reminds them that sorrow is temporary and love endures. It’s a tender finish, though some may wish for a more adventurous coda.
With seventeen songs, Exile could have benefited from tighter editing. The mid‑section drags, and some songs rely too heavily on repeated phrases rather than the vivid lyricism Chronixx is capable of. Yet, the album’s best moments justify its ambition. Chronixx remains a gifted vocalist who can anchor a song with warmth and conviction, and Inflo’s production brings a richness and variety that many modern reggae albums lack. It’s been a while since Reggae albums delivered with such quality (outside of Lila Iké’s long-awaited debut), and Chronixx’s Exile feels less like a gimmick and more like an artist reclaiming his narrative. He rarely strays from familiar reggae motifs—Jah, family, righteousness—but he inhabits them with enough personality to make them feel resonant.
Great (★★★★☆)
Favorite Track(s): “Market,” “Saviour,” “Keep On Rising”