Album Review: To Dry a Tear by Khamari
Khamari set out to explore the idea that we might not know what we truly want, and in doing so, he has created a project about grief that feels genuinely exploratory and passionate.
With A Brief Nirvana, it was clear that the album was a captivating glimpse into the anxiety, heartbreak, and hope of young adulthood under the shadow of isolation. Now, with To Dry a Tear, Khamari expands that emotional and sonic groundwork. He’s set out to explore the idea that we might not know what we truly want, and in doing so, he has created a project about grief that feels genuinely exploratory and passionate. He offers the kind of honest, soul-baring songwriting that the genre thrives on, but he wraps it in influences from beyond R&B’s borders, be it a hint of alternative rock or a pinch of folk storytelling. The album ultimately brings something new to the table by proving that introspective R&B can be expansive and inclusive of varied sounds without losing its soul. It signals that Khamari is on a trajectory upward: he’s carving out his own niche as a compelling singer-songwriter in the alt-R&B field, one who respects the classics (Ms. Lauryn Hill, D’Angelo, etc.) yet isn’t afraid to push into uncharted territory.
Throughout To Dry a Tear, Khamari weaves a barrage of emotional themes. Trust, desire, fear, grief, and addiction each take center stage in different songs, but all circle back to the struggle to connect in spite of inner turmoil. “Lonely in the Jungle,” with its evocative title, places the listener in a metaphorical wilderness. Over spacious, moody production, Khamari gives voice to insecurities about life and love. He pleads into the void for meaning, even questioning his faith: “If there’s a God in this lonely jungle/Why haven’t my prayers been answered?” he asks plaintively. The jungle imagery amplifies the sense of being lost in chaos, surrounded by life yet fundamentally alone. “Head in a Jar” approaches disconnection from a different angle, the distance between two people who are physically apart but emotionally entangled. Khamari conceived the song’s central image as “a metaphor for being a part of someone’s life, but from a greater distance than you would like.” He describes the mundane details of an ex’s morning routine (putting on an old sweater, a TV show murmuring in the background) to detail how trapped in memory he is. The refrain “‘Cause you keep my head in a jar here on your nightstand… Least I’ll be something to you” places him as an observer in someone else’s life, preserved in heartbreak like a specimen.
Beyond these, To Dry a Tear offers varied vignettes of longing. Opener “I Love Lucy” (perhaps slyly named after the classic TV show) kicks off with themes of affection and illusion, while “He Said, She Said” examines the bitter cycle of mistrust and miscommunication in a relationship. The latter’s groove is subtly tense, capturing how “words [are] weaponized in a duel where no one wins,” a fitting sonic illustration of broken trust. On “Acres,” Khamari shifts focus to personal ambition versus harsh reality by cleverly interpolating “The Way” by Jill Scott (Take notes, Saweetie!), piling up lyrical images of “accumulating soil” and dreams buried under the grind (a reflection, perhaps, of fear of failure). Each song’s narrative stands on its own, yet collectively they sketch a young man wrestling with what it means to want, to hurt, and to heal. Khamari continues to root his music in contemporary alt-R&B production, while fearlessly branching out into new territory. His cited influences above span an eclectic range, and this record organically integrates these inspirations, blending alternative rock energy, bluesy soul emotion, and modern R&B atmospheres into a cohesive whole.
“Sycamore Tree” is a standout example of Khamari’s genre-melding approach. The track is built on a gentle, bluesy, and slow-swaying groove that “elegantly grabs hold of your soul and carries you in a dance of its own.” It starts as a delicate soul ballad and gradually swells into something grand and cinematic. Khamari has a clear debt to D’Angelo here; in fact, “Sycamore Tree” interpolates D’Angelo’s “Untitled (How Does It Feel),” examining the bloom and wither of a romance. Lush keys and subtle bass nod to the neo-soul playbook, yet by the climax, we also hear dramatic strings and a hint of rock dynamics. “I wanted the music to mirror that journey, starting soft and growing into something beautifully dramatic,” Khamari has said of this song’s arrangement, and he succeeds; the track crescendos with swelling instrumentals as his vocals grow more impassioned. The way branches “overhang with haunting ambiguity” in the lyrics underscores an unspoken desire that the music gradually brings to a boil. In its rich mixture of soul feeling and alternative flair, “Sycamore Tree” encloses the album’s sonic mission.
Hints of Khamari’s rock influences surface in the guitar textures and live-band feel. There’s a touch of John Mayer’s singer-songwriter warmth in the breezy guitars of mid-tempo songs like “Close,” a song that captures “the magnetic draw of the unattainable” with mellow strums tethering the chorus. The funkier side of alternative rock peeks through on the livelier cuts; “It’s a Mad World” in particular carries a subtle funk-rock undercurrent in its rhythm (a conceivable nod to Red Hot Chili Peppers’ LA-cool influence). Yet the production always retains an R&B core—warm Rhodes piano chords, soulful backing harmonies, and crisp, modern drum programming provide continuity. Khamari and his production team favor a refined, understated approach because nothing ever feels overproduced or cluttered. Even at its most energetic, the album maintains a certain laid-back, introspective vibe, keeping the spotlight on Khamari’s voice and words. This aligns with the lineage of alternative R&B peers who emphasize mood and message over chart-driven formula.
Vocally, Khamari has never sounded better. His performances throughout To Dry a Tear are nuanced and emotive, conveying introspective moods with ease. He can be expressive and soothing in one moment and raw and unflinching the next. On confessional numbers like “Lord, Forgive Me,” his voice cracks with genuine ache, as though he’s living every word. In contrast, “It’s a Mad World” sees him projecting with more power and grit, channeling frustration through a catchy, chant-like hook. One of Khamari’s strengths is his dynamic control—he often starts a song in a delicate near-whisper, then builds to a soaring crest as the emotions swell. This is evident on “Euphoria,” where his vocal delivery mirrors the subject matter: in a song about the addictive rush of pleasure, he sings with a trembling vulnerability that grows desperate by the final chorus. His layered harmonies (perhaps a subtle Beatles influence in their clarity and placement) add depth to the arrangements without ever overpowering the lead. It’s clear that Khamari has honed not just his songwriting but also his vocal arrangements and tone to better convey the complex feelings in these tracks.
One of the triumphs of To Dry a Tear is its thoughtful track sequencing and cohesive narrative arc. The album flows logically through its emotional peaks and valleys. It opens with a somewhat playful or nostalgic reference that eases us in with themes of love (perhaps tinged with innocence or pop culture idealism), and closes with “Apollo Eighteen,” a track whose very title evokes exploration and the unknown. In between, the ordering of songs seems intentional, with the early songs establishing yearning and conflict, the midpoint delivers the emotional gut-punch of loneliness, and the latter half carries us through confrontation and catharsis. With the last two tracks arrive, there’s a sense of trying to transcend or escape, whether through fleeting joy or by launching into the stars. The songwriting here is more nuanced—he tackles trickier subjects (addiction, existential doubt) with maturity and avoids easy resolution. The sonic ambition has also leapt forward. His artistic maturity shows in the restraint exercised throughout, cementing Khamari as an artist to watch in modern R&B—one with the potential to shape the genre’s future while staying true to its emotive roots.
Great (★★★★☆)
Favorite Track(s): “Sycamore Tree,” “Lord, Forgive Me,” “It’s a Mad World”