For Kelela, her hiatus following the release of her much-lauded debut album was of paramount importance for the groundwork for her sophomore studio album. Take Me Apart, which arrived in 2017 alongside another landmark late-2010s R&B debut in SZA’s Ctrl, sparked the inception of both an increasingly rabid fanbase and a consensus that Kelela was one of the most fascinating visionaries in contemporary music. With a sound that sources its warmth from shimmering synths and picks up a bit of edge from the multitudes of Black music history baked into her voice, Kelela is operating on a much higher level than the vast majority of her peers. In the years following Take Me Apart, which was named one of the best albums of 2017 by The Bulletin, Kelela disappeared. She took some time to live and re-establish her boundaries; she even created an anticapitalist Black womanist reading primer inspired by her shifting priorities after the peak of the COVID-19 pandemic and the unjust murder of George Floyd.

Nonetheless, her silence didn’t mean that she was absent. Raven arrives in perfect conversation with other post-Take Me Apart releases from other Black women in music. From the thematic utilization of water as a tool of healing, baptism, and restoration (à la Solange and Beyoncé) to her centering of Black queerness in the context of dance music (à la Honey Dijon and Beyoncé, again), Raven is keenly aware of the moment we are in right now. Everyone from Drake to Dua Lipa has dropped a dance record as we search for peace after such a calamitous start to the 2020s decade, but few are making dance albums that feel charged with a purpose beyond infantile imaginings of escapism. The album begins with lead single “Washed Away,” a celestial amalgam of scintillating synths and a vocal performance wracked with conviction. “Riding out on metal rays / Moving on, a change of pace, and I'm / Far away,” she sings. The opener concludes with Kelela submerging herself in the ocean, the first step of her musical baptism on Raven. In order to reach a place of genuine serenity in which she serves herself first, Kelela must first be “Washed Away” by the currents of queer Black femme sanctuaries in Raven’s survey of dance music.

“Happy Ending” plunges into U.K. garage before incorporating elements of drum and bass to anchor a sultrier second verse complete with crunchy ‘90s R&B harmonies. The sleek bass guitar on “Let It Go” pairs well with those jazzy synths in the outro, and “On The Run” hosts the union of KAYTRANADA and Kelela inside a sweaty, bustling dancehall. Perfectly evoking the lustful energy of a heated wall grind at a West Indian house party, “On The Run” indulges in a level of infatuation that should be illegal. The call-and-response arrangement of the lead and background vocals in the chorus keeps the pacing steady, but it is that thumping riddim that maintains the urgency of the track. Before reinvigorating her garage explorations with a dash of bossa nova on “Missed Call,” Kelela then gets sensual with “Closure,” a guilty, glitching slow jam that features a strong guest verse from Black trans woman rapper Rahrah Gabor. By this point in the album, Raven emerges as a sort-of moonlit complement to Beyoncé’s Renaissance. Like Queen Bey’s Grammy-winning opus, Raven is chiefly concerned with championing the Black queer foundation of dance music, but Kelela’s interpretation of liberation is a bit moodier. There’s a focus on the self — both self-care and a warranted level of selfishness — that courses throughout the record. “And I go where they hold me down / And you're not gonna take my crown / And I'm tryin', but this time around / I'm afloat, yeah, I'm floating away,” she sings on album standout “Holier.”

Raven’s title is a reference to the much-mythologized bird species as well as a play on the word “raving.” To balance her pointed emphasis on the self, Kelela uses the innate communion of raves to source some additional strength and firepower for her journey to a land of peace and wholeness “Far Away.” “Contact” charts a path from the pregame to the club, “Sorbet” soundtracks a much healthier hook-up session, and "Bruises” whips and weaves its way through elements of both house and amapiano. For all of the high-octane moments that make up a record as well-sequenced and well-mixed as Raven, Kelela still finds time to slow things down. In addition to “Holier,” the Shygirl-assisted “Divorce” opts for a soundscape that blends orchestral pop with ambient music, a fittingly somber instrumental for Kelela to process and accept the state of a dead relationship.

Kelela’s sophomore album is simply riveting. The work of a highly intentional and incredibly studious artist, Raven is a landmark dance record. The album is filled to the brim with thoughtful ruminations of dance music history and a genius utilization of that sound and culture on a healing journey that should inspire us all. If Kelela does not become the second Black woman to win the Grammy Award for Best Dance/Electronic Music Album at next year’s ceremony, just go ahead and give her the Pulitzer Prize for Music instead.

Vote for Kelela at the 2023 Bulletin Awards.

Key Tracks: “On The Run” | “Divorce” | “Raven” | “Holier” | “Sorbet”

Score: 89