Album Review: Me My Songs & I by JayDon

With his vocal talent and the resources of mega/gamma behind him, JayDon has the potential to craft something truly compelling. Me My Songs & I is a solid stepping stone, not a destination.

Courtesy of mega/gamma.

JayDon’s signing to Usher and L.A. Reid’s newly minted mega label (a joint venture with gamma) set off expectations that the young singer—known to audiences as child actor JD McCrary—might bring a fresh spark to R&B. After months of dropping loosies, the project had grown into a ten‑track package as a showcase for his emotive tenor and with songwriting contributions from Felisha King and Whitney Phillips and production from Harv, Blaq Tuxedo and others. The tape collects romantic ballads and dance‑floor flirtations that chart a tumultuous love life. It’s polished and accessible, but its conservatism often stifles JayDon’s considerable talent. With his vocal talent and the resources of mega/gamma behind him, he has the potential to craft something truly compelling. Me My Songs & I is a solid stepping stone, not a destination.

The mixtape opens with “Lullaby,” a gentle love song in which JayDon pledges to be everything for his partner. The production is sleek and candle‑lit, built on gentle synth pads and a glacial beat, and JayDon sells the hook with a soft falsetto. Yet the songwriting rarely moves beyond clichés. Lines like “through thick and thin, time and again/You raise the bar of what it means to be a woman” and “I sleep at night ’cause you’re by my side, you’re my lullaby” feel more like Hallmark slogans than lived‑in confessionals. He compares himself to a sweater and his chest to a pillow, and the guest verse from Paradise veers into lecherous territory with couplets about watching her body. As an opener, it’s a safe introduction that showcases his voice but hints at the shallowness of his storytelling.

“Caviar” provides one of the stronger moments on the tape because it allows JayDon to confront his own failings. He regrets lying to his partner, admitting that he “ran out” of the love she gave him and “gave you doubt” in return. The chorus—”How’d I get here? Should’ve known you were priceless/Like art and expensive caviar”—is clumsy but at least attempts a metaphor that lands. The sparse production gives his voice room to resonate, and his delivery communicates remorse without oversinging. Still, even here, the introspection can feel self‑pitying; he laments his pain more than hers, and the bridge’s references to halos and time flying owe more to R&B formula than personal reflection. His willingness to apologize is also at the center of “I’ll Be Good,” which uses an interpolated Usher sample to score his repentance. JayDon sings “in a perfect world, I’d never make you cry” and pledges that “I’mma try, I’mma do better.” The melody is sticky and his tone earnest, but the constant repetition of “I’ll be good” becomes monotonous, and the promises lack specificity. Like much of the tape, the song’s vulnerability feels manufactured—a series of R&B signifiers rather than raw confession.

The middle of the mixtape is weighed down by mid‑tempo relationship songs that blur together. “Separated” rides a smooth electric‑piano groove; its production is “mellow” with “gentle synth layers” and a laid‑back drumbeat. JayDon and his partner debate whether to part ways, but the hook—”Since you asked me how you feel about separating, it’s hard enough to talk about, let’s not make it complicated”—reduces a difficult decision to tautology. “Until I Deserve You” continues in the same vein, with airy synth pads and a steady mid‑tempo groove. JayDon acknowledges he’s “over‑invested” and “the bad guy inside this storyline” and begs his partner to “keep me working until I deserve you”. There’s a hook there, but it repeats relentlessly, and the lack of new melodic or lyrical ideas makes the song feel like filler.

On “Jealous of the Moon,” he clings to a partner who drifts in and out of his life. The atmospheric production—“moody, mellow R&B” with smooth drums and heavy reverb—suits the theme, and his voice melts into the beat. But again, the writing is thin: he compares himself to a fast train that can’t “make a solid break” and confesses that her kiss has him waiting by the phone, “changing mood.” It’s passable late‑night listening, but there’s nothing here that couldn’t have been written by any number of contemporary crooners. “Don’t Hate Me Now” tries to flip the script: JayDon ends a relationship and tells his partner, “Please don’t hate me now,” even though he “couldn’t give you all the things you needed.” The production remains smooth with mellow synths and soft drums, but the song never interrogates why he checked out—he simply asks for forgiveness and moves on.

The tape’s most engaging track is “Boujee Baby,” featuring New York rapper Zeddy Will. Here, JayDon loosens up and embraces braggadocio. Over a bouncy beat, he calls his lover “my lil’ bougie baby” and boasts that he’s “crashin’ out for you”. His pre‑chorus—“I pop out, baby, you know that I put that shit on/Pushin’ drop top, baby, I don’t do no chasin’ but you got me gone”—is delivered with swagger, and Zeddy Will’s verse adds some cheeky wordplay about Gucci, Tubi, and Scooby Doo. The song’s club‑ready tempo and playful energy provide a welcome break from the wallowing ballads. Likewise, “The Way You Move” is built for movement: JayDon invites a woman to “put your hands on your knees, shake somethin’ for me” and sings, “your body talk to me by the way you move.” The beat is indebted to the usual uptempo patterns, and JayDon’s phrasing is catchy even if the lyrics are boilerplate.

Two other tracks, “Brand New” and “Jealous of the Moon,” feel less essential. “Brand New” asks whether love can feel as fresh as it did at the start, but the hook simply repeats “did it feel brand new?” over a feather‑light beat. The verses list arguments and make‑ups without offering specifics. At such a time, the song reaches its faint bridge, and the question has lost all urgency. “Jealous of the Moon,” as mentioned, has atmosphere but little narrative progression. Both songs contribute to a sense that the mixtape is padded to reach ten tracks rather than being carefully curated, even though the latter is one of the better songs.

Vocally, JayDon is undeniably gifted. His tone is smooth and his falsetto floats, and he occasionally unleashes melismatic runs reminiscent of his mentor Usher. But the vocal production often undercuts that natural ability. At times, his delivery veers into affected crooning; on “Lullaby,” he stretches simple lines into syrupy melismas, while on “I’ll Be Good,” the processed background vocals make the track feel more synthetic than heartfelt. When he strips back the embellishments—a distance between the singer and the listener on the opening verse of “Caviar”—his tone shines, but those moments are few.

A larger issue is the pacing and tonal arc. The first half leans heavily on remorseful ballads with similar tempos and chord progressions. When “Boujee Baby” arrives near the end, its burst of energy is refreshing but also jarring. There is no sense of build or narrative; instead, the tape feels like a playlist of songs assembled after the fact. Across the tape, JayDon leans on the same mid-tempo polish—pleasant enough but rarely surprising—which flattens what might’ve been moments of real emotional contrast. Without dynamic shifts, the project’s runtime drags, and some songs—particularly “Separated” and “Brand New”—feel redundant.

There are glimpses of ambition. Sampling Usher on “I’ll Be Good” hints at JayDon’s ability to bridge generations. The cross‑regional bounce of “Boujee Baby” and the introspection of “Caviar” suggest he can balance commercial appeal with personal storytelling. However, most of Me My Songs & I plays it safe, opting for formulaic R&B tropes over creative risk. In the shadow of mentors like Usher, that conservatism stands out: the mixtape lacks the dynamic range and adventurous production that could set JayDon apart. The personal narratives rarely translate into universal resonance, and the songs’ repetitive nature can feel self‑indulgent rather than cathartic.

Above Average (★★★☆☆)

Favorite Track(s): “Until I Deserve You,” “Jealous of the Moon,” “Don’t Hate Me Now”