Dawn Richard Is Clocking In for Love
The legacy of Static Major turns up in the credits of a new Brent Faiyaz single, while Lalah Hathaway gives her first verse of the week to the Bronzeville corner where the Regal Theater used to stand.
Welcome to the Soulpolitan weekly feature, where we highlight the R&B singles worth your time. As people who spend an unreasonable amount of time pressing play on things nobody asked us to press play on, this is our way of passing along the best of what we’re hearing—and occasionally arguing about, so you don’t have to sort through every New Music Friday playlist yourself.
It's all R&B this week, with a lot of the songs dealing with things that have already happened. We have a Bronzeville history lesson delivered by a Def Poetry veteran in its opening verse; 2007's Pretty Ricky coming with a grown man's apology song; a New Orleans singer giving his all for love; a breakup song with a twist of revenge through a wishing well; and a Philadelphia artist who convinces himself to dump a woman in just four bars. Let's get started.
Lalah Hathaway, “47th Street” feat. J. Ivy
At 47th and South Parkway, now known as King Drive, the Regal Theater opened in February 1928 with 3,000 seats, six years before the Apollo and with double its capacity. It has been played from Duke Ellington to Louis Armstrong. The Savoy Ballroom was located next door, while the Parkway Ballroom and Gerri’s Palm Tavern were just a short walkaway. The area is concentrating on those blocks, considering downtown will not allow a Black customer to try on a hat before purchasing it. Lalah Hathaway was born in this city, the same year that the owners of the Regal Theater filed for bankruptcy and closed its doors (1968); the wrecking crew arrived in 1973, and the site remained vacant for 30 years.
J. Ivy takes the first verse, explaining the Great Migration through a train manifest. “The train was carrying hope/From the freight cars to the caboose,” he raps and references a book with significant academic credentials, “Black Metropolis”—the name given to this neighborhood by St. Clair Drake and Horace Cayton in their 1945 book.
Hathaway sings about 47th Street, asking, “Do you remember me?” She wants to be remembered for the memories of living there—including rent, weather, and an elderly woman who used to talk to her—as well as an anecdote linking a mayor with a theater at McCormick Place: “Harold Washington and Arie Crown.”
Then there’s the line where Lalah sings, “You can occupy these streets/But you can’t evict what lives in me.” To call the block of King Drive where the Regal Theater once stood “condemned” doesn’t quite do justice to its fate: it was cleared and left untouched for over 40 years, a gaping hole in the ground until it was finally redeveloped in 2004. Today, the corner of 47th and King is occupied by the Harold Washington Cultural Center, named for the mayor mentioned by Lalah. It features a 20-foot-tall bronze statue of him in the atrium as well as a 1,000-seat theater that hosts hundreds of events each year despite not being booked to capacity. —Tai Lawson
Brent Faiyaz, “like it was.”
When Pretty Ricky performed “Make It Like It Was” at their VERZUZ battle against B2K in June, Pleasure P stopped singing to say rest in peace Static Major before belting out a note. Static, real name Stephen Garrett from Louisville, had created a demo for that track many years prior to his death in 2008 at 33 years old, two weeks before “Lollipop” was released. His songwriting credits feature Aaliyah’s “Are you that Somebody?” and “Try Again” and “Rock the Boat,” Ginuwine’s “Pony,” and posthumously for Wayne’s single. This year, Brent Faiyaz constructed a track using “Make It Like It Was” as its base and included it on the Director’s Cut of Icon, with Stephen Garrett credited as a producer.
Faiyaz’s verses are some of the most straightforward he’s written in a while. “I still think of you sometimes/Can we go back?” He begins, later saying, “It’s ain’t what it used to be/It’s safe to get used to me.” He tries out a simile once and makes it agricultural: “If you let me in your garden, we can grow things.” Meanwhile, Pleasure P handles the hook (sampled, of course) with all the feeling of a first kiss, first touch, having traveled the world, but nothing has compared to it, with a voice that helped Pretty Ricky score 2 gold albums from Miami.
But there’s a catch with the ad-libs—during the third go around, Faiyaz mutters “Can’t have faith in me” in the background, despite delivering a line in the previous verse promising, “I promise you, have faith.” He’s contradicting himself through someone else’s underlying hook. The February version of Icon was executive produced by Raphael Saadiq, with Faiyaz handling all vocals, and debuted at number 6. —Sydni Carter-Reed
Dawn Richard, “enough”
I’ve been watching this woman work since Making the Band through Danity Kane and Diddy-Dirty Money, and a federal courtroom where she testified against Sean Combs. Tenderness was not what I expected from the end of the King Creole trilogy. But here we are. “enough” is the second track from Dawn Richard’s Creole Culture, out October 9 via Merge, and concludes a series started with new breed in 2019, built from samples of her father’s and the Chocolate Milk catalog. It continued through Second Line in 2021, interpolated by interludes from her mother talking about what it means to be Creole. Dawn has said that she felt like the story was left incomplete; this is her personal take on it. She co-executive produced this installment with Katalyst, in collaboration with drummer Greg Paul from the Inglewood group, so while what turned out to be her New Orleans-skeptic record was recorded in LA.
The song kicks off with snippets of Sister Nancy’s “Bam Bam” before adding a horn section to ride out its riddim, lots of church spirit for a track with its opening line about eating breakfast. The sex was great, so she made him breakfast, and she burnt the toast trying to seem domestic. She confesses to the error straight away. “Knowing damn well a bitch not Martha Stewart.” Cut to two verses on, and love has driven her to want to kill in the funniest tone you’ve ever heard. “They never tell you that love make you crazy, son/Got me thinking ‘bout killing two or three bitches, bruh/I got this gun and this feeling on one.” And then she gets on with planning how she will have time for it. “But listen, I’m gon’ treat this like a job/I’m gon’ check in from the morning ‘till the nighttime/I’m not gon’ stop until we reached the Forbes 1 line.”
In her statement, she describes this song as an exercise in “unlearning the lie that your value has to be earned.” I hear it as Dawn describing dedicated fan work as regular job hours: rising with the dawn, chasing after a billion dollars, and managing a romantic relationship as she would run her own business, planning to list it on the stock exchange. Both ideas are contained within these three minutes; she leaves them dangling in the air. The track then discourses the listener directly: “You a fan, huh?/Probably not my only fans.” The follow-up track is called “only fans.” —Jamila W.
Fana Hues, “from him”
Alissia Benveniste, the Swiss bassist whom Prince flew out to Paisley Park after seeing some YouTube clips, boasts a credit few producers would give up a kidney to achieve. She co-wrote about a third of Bootsy Collins’ World Wide Funk, Mary J. Blige’s “Heart Without the Heartbreak,” 2024’s NxWorries album, and earned a 2025 Producer of the Year nomination. This made her the ninth woman to receive one. She is one of three producers on Fana Hues’ “from him,” and one of six on the bassist’s new EP Catch n’ Release. Hues learned to play bass from her father in a Pasadena house with 8 siblings and a family band and suffered from severe speech difficulties during much of her childhood due to recurring bouts of strep throat, tonsillitis, and scarlet fever.
“Sorry don’t sing the same/When it’s the umpteenth time you’ve said those words,” Hues begins before handing him gifts throughout the song—the bed he made and her gratitude for whatever he does next. Even after the verses, he throws money into a fountain. “And you spent your last dime/Threw it in a shiny wishing well/Now you lost the only one who wished you well.” The hook breaks down one person into two tasks—what she wants from him and what she needs from him—concluding with a 2-word blessing: “Get yours.” On a subsequent take, she gives him the same instruction she has given herself: “So take what you need from them/Whatever you please from them/Get yours.” Throughout the EP, she assesses his capacity for romantic conquests relative to his ability to keep clean clothes. (Bedsheets feature prominently in the latter.) Five years ago, she portrayed the elusive woman in Tyler, the Creator’s “SWEET / I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO DANCE,” the one apologizing about timing as someone breaks apart on the other side of the beat. She’s now the person doing the leaving, and she maintains her character’s trademark courtesy throughout the track. —Tabia N. Mullings
Noah Guy, “Got You”
How many musicians are name-checking hoop mixtapes from their origins? Born outside of Philadelphia, Noah Guy grew up with a collection of Motown’s greatest hits playing on his dad’s Jeep stereo, with “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg” on repeat. No one could stop it. His debut full-length album (MEMORIA, in blue) was released this year, spawned from a place of grieving. “Hello from far away,” he begins on the late summer track “Got You,” observing as someone quickly looks away from his gaze. “I don’t know what caused all this pressure/But it got you running.” Then the song contemplates the situation, asking questions—“Got you running around, baby/You’ve been wearing a frown, baby,” and then there’s a bridge where I lose myself. “Good God, I see a whole world with ya/Good God, I wanna hold that with ya/But I think I might need some time/Good God, you deserve him with ya.” Four lines to travel from a lifetime yet to be lived to needing space to handing her over to another man. “A forlorn traveling generation,” taken from the second verse, is a film student’s phrase, and I use it affectionately. —Imani Raven
R&B, Soul, or Blues Albums to Check Out
Ravyn Lenae: Blue Island
FLO: Therapy at the Club
Llona: On the Road
Q: DO YOU SEE ME?
Dinner Party: Whatchu Bringing?
Roy Woods: X
Alexander Mack: You Had to Be There
Lost Girl: EGO
Booker Brown: The Black Knight of the Blues
MOONGA K.: SOULWAVE 2153
Sherrionn: Honey Trap
Muyeez: All Hail Muyeez
Quanie: Diary (EP)
Fana Hues: Catch n’ Release (EP)
izabalien: type she (EP)
Léonie Barbot & ESTA.: from me to me (EP)
Brent Faiyaz: Icon (Director’s Cut)
Other Songs to Check Out
Beyoncé: MORNING DEW (DONK) REMIX [ACOUSTIC VERSION]
Rema: TEA
Alabama Shakes: Garden
Tamera: Sinner, Pt. 2 (feat. Jessie Reyez)
Sam Pounds: One In a Million
Vedo & Lady London: Put Up
Chikoruss: Turn You Up
Faye Meane: Mine
J. Brown: No More Us
Malaya: Knees
Artie J: Models & Bottles
Ethan French: it takes a lifetime - day 58
Benita: Kissing Underwater
JANANIE & Alexander David: 08:07
AUGUST 08: Kids No More (feat. Tempest)
M’Lynn: Feel It]
Gretchen Parlato: The Wise Ones (feat. Amber Navran)
Abrina: End of the World
Miliano: Night Owl
Meshell Ndegeocello & Cat Power: Don’t You Want Me
Pia Mia: Like You
5an & Ye Ali: FYU
Ali Gatie: Deja Vu
Justin Garner: Dancing On Glass
Boney James: I Belong to You (feat. Ledisi)
Gracie Ella: Pulling Me Away
Marcus Harvey: Waters
Alexia Jayy: Find the Door
Charlie Bereal: So Cold (feat. India Shawn)
Cyanca: Send a Letter (Maxi-Single)
MERCE: My Guy
Susan Carol: Better Way
Arlo Parks: Floette (feat. John Glacier)
Dahi & Fousheé: Square Up
Demae: Don’t Play the Fool (Live Session)
Ragz Originale: korean skincare (freestyle).MP3
Brooke Combe: Love Was Made of Stone
Amindi: fr this time
Heziah Johnson: Hold Me Down (feat. Trini Baby)
MIRIAH.: KOTCH
Ron E: PRIVATE
Mike Terrell: On This Side
Oxii Moron: NO STRINGS
Elijah Boothe: Mystery
Nasty C & Tellaman: Natural
ru.: Colours
Tyree Twill: Don’t Come Running
Faye Meane: Mine
Bahja Rodriguez: Issue
GOVAN: Bag U Up