Retrospective Review: Room 25 by Noname

An examination of Noname's growth and personal transformation.

Noname is no longer shrouded in mystery. Instead, she’s left an open invitation for us to delve into her universe. The burgeoning artist from Chicago, shrouded in intrigue, initially stole the hearts of the hip-hop community in 2013, dropping pearls of wisdom in her verse on Chance The Rapper’s “Lost” from Acid Rap. We’re familiar with the subsequent tale: personal struggles with alcohol and mental health delayed her debut release, Telefone, until 2016. But then, Noname bestowed upon hip-hop a reflective and softly-spoken debut work. Two years later, Noname graces us with Room 25, presenting a more lavish and multifaceted exploration of her characteristic lyrical poetry.

The album kicks off on a comforting and affectionate note, with a serene, low-pressure lounge jazz ambiance making way for Noname’s gentle vocals, laced with an understated sweetness. “Self” is short yet calming, with optimism that Telefone wasn’t quite prepared for. Within the album’s opening moments, we perceive Noname adopting a more playful, carefree demeanor. As “Self” transitions into the exuberant chaos and rhythm of “Blaxploitation,” we realize that she has devoted the last two years to self-love, basking in the happiness of self-discovery.

Following that, Noname explores her sexuality in a manner unseen in her previous work. The second verse of “Window” alone contains more sexual boldness and sincere candor than the entirety of Noname’s previous work. As she disclosed to The FADER, embracing her sexuality came hand-in-hand with accepting her physical self. Any earlier references to sex, such as in “Baby” and “Cherrypie Blues,” were mostly imagined. The concluding lines of “Self” suggest a more energetic and stimulated Fatimah. Room 25, in many aspects, encapsulates the youthful delights that Telefone portrayed as denied to her.

The live instrumentation intensifies Telefone’s sparkle, transforming Room 25 into a lively and jazzy excursion. “Montego Bae” is delightfully intense and flushed. Noname raps with the energy and joy of a woman enthralled by the thrill of romance. She exhibits a thrilling level of self-assurance to complement the newfound vibrancy in her musical landscapes. “Room 25 the best album that’s coming out,” she declares on “Ace” before transitioning into a line about vegan food that fizzles out only because we hear her break into a smile. “Prayer Song” switches Noname’s gentle tone for husky, slam poetry deliveries that reveal Noname’s ability to be aggressive. Her charm remains intact despite the evolution, yet Room 25 is far from soulless or disconnected from reality.

We experience the orchestral whimsy of “Window,” segueing into the solemn themes of identity, of appearing transparent yet remains unknown. Her upbeat delivery and hints of allure cannot overshadow the fact that Fatimah still wrestles with being comprehended. For a musician as candid as she, this is a familiar dichotomy, underscored by her detailed descriptions of physical intimacy. “Windows” explores the difference between possession and being possessed and what it might mean to comprehend another person entirely. In this sense, Noname uses Room 25 to delve into her psyche and that of her listeners. She is curious but far from uncertain.

Noname understands her presence in Room 25. The whispers of “Don’t Forget About Me,” the focus on her calming tone, and the admission that she shares the fragility of those her music comforts create a deep connection with the listener. The track feels like a quiet, late-night confession in a summer parking lot, the type where whispered words pierce the heavy air of summer’s final moments.

When Noname quietly addresses her alcoholism, a battle we’ve been aware of since early versions of the Telefone cover appeared online, we can’t help but share her pain. As she softly confesses, “Noname almost passed out drinking / The secret is: she thinks it saves lives,” our hearts sink. Her delicate vocals lend an unbearable weight to the desperation of her reality; Fatimah yearns to feel better. Where “just” carries the most substantial weight in our language.

Although Room 25 is more lively—relative to Noname standards—than Telefone, Noname’s path to healing is still in progress. “Gave you a taste of my redemption / Now I want my drink back,” she pronounces on “With You.” Noname is no longer shrouded, but she is transitioning, and her candid portrayal of pain and frustration is a welcomed change. When Fatimah herself is not the primary focus of a track, we see intelligent political commentary on “Prayer Song,” which channels the pain of 2016’s “Casket Pretty” into a flame of justified fury. In every way, Noname displays growth, and her ability to infuse her emotions with subtlety has dramatically expanded.

Room 25’s appearance feels like a cosmic event. Noname’s music has deservedly gained a reputation for its healing properties. In the aftermath of Mac Miller’s untimely death, her tender and contemplative approach to death (“Don’t Forget About Me”) and the desire to live (“no name”) on this album feel not just welcomed but necessary for music as a whole. Noname has always connected deeply with the concept of death, but in Room 25, she also offers us a path to paradise (“Regal”).

The album emanates a natural warmth, augmented by the camaraderie it engenders. Ravyn Lenae, Smino, Saba’s contributions, and Phoelix’s superb production make the album feel familiar and welcoming. Lenae’s vocal twitches on “Montego Bae” are charming, and Saba’s verse on “Ace” would make even the most seasoned rapper dizzy. But beyond their talent, there’s a comforting familiarity to being invited to a gathering where everyone is already known to you.

Room 25 is serpentine and plush, layered yet serene. The emotional pace on this record is far more dynamic than on Telefone, and where Noname was previously offering lessons in mood, she now crafts works that inspire and relieve tension. Indeed, each transition—like how “no name” shifts from being lost and cheerful to a striking and peaceful piano ballad—on this album illustrates the cyclical nature of life. Her music has become even more lifelike as she shapes 11 breathtaking songs into peaks and troughs. While Room 25 acknowledges sadness, we still perceive Noname’s smile from one track to the next. Her happiness is unbeatable, making Room 25 the hip-hop album desperately needed.