Empress Of's ’Me' A Sharp-Edged, Political Dance

Lorely Rodriguez, the artist who performs as Empress Of, gazes forward contemplatively from the cover of her debut album, “Me.” She has a fist pressed against her mouth, a position that at once seems as if it could indicate anxiety, contemplativeness, or control. This ambivalent and variously suggestive gesture encapsulates the complex and multilayered nature of the album. “Me” is, on every level, a meticulously and beautifully crafted album—a stunning, masterful debut.

By COURTESY XL

Rodriguez’s chosen medium is dance music, and over self-produced pop backing and eminently bumping beats she spins tales both intimately personal and keenly political. Dance music might not seem like the most obvious choice of genre for self-reflection. But it is closely attuned to the physical reality of the human body and concerned with facilitating the body's movements through and experiences in the environment. In Rodriguez’s capable hands, this style lends itself well to the expression of inner personal truth and sharply sketched political reality. Rodriguez, like fellow artists FKA Twigs and Shamir, is proving that pop electronic is currently home to some of the most exciting and innovative musicians.

Rodriguez's music is unabashedly honest, powerfully unafraid of showing the truth regardless of what it might look like. She is not hesitant to reveal vulnerability; she opens the album singing, over a spare arrangement: “Should I be afraid? / You don’t seem to be / All I want to be is you.” Her beautiful, expressive voice sings lyrics that are confessional, self-exploratory, and unsparing in their vision. For instance, in the final track, “Icon,” she sings tenderly about a sensual seaside fantasy, only to cut herself off with, “But I’m just in the room with the lights on.” In “Need Myself”—her slightly skewed version of a pop empowerment anthem—she sings confidently to a lover she is done with: “I don’t need this now/Not from you.” Unflinchingly, she continues, laying out the failures of their relationship: “I’m just lying to myself / When I’m lying next to you / I’m making love to myself / When I’m making love to you.” But when she sings of what she does need, what she does want—“I just need myself…to love myself”— notably to the same tune as her original line of rejection, her voice trembles slightly on each repetition of the word “myself.” As she sings these lines over and over again, with a raw openness and vulnerability, she seems to demonstrate the difficult work of building one’s confidence and self-esteem, finding one’s inner source of power. It is a deeply affecting listen.

She is similarly clear-eyed in her political vision—in “Water Water,” she sings, cuttingly, to a less-than-aware lover, “Water, water is a privilege / Just like kids who go to college.” Her songs often explore how the political intersects with the personal—in “Kitty Kat,” she questions a partner’s condescending behavior towards her. “If I was a man would you still do the same?” she sings. Later in the track, she brilliantly rephrases this question as a command: “Don't kitty, kitty cat me like I'm just your pussy.” This is pop politics near its finest. Rodriguez’s lyrical acumen is matched by her deft compositional skills—“Water Water” and “Kitty Kat” are two of the best sounding tracks on the album. The former sounds as vital, as wild, and as necessary as its title subject. The breaks between verses feature Rodriguez wordlessly vocalizing over burbling, crashing synth waves. The latter shifts between a huge, bruising synth bass line on the verses and sharp stabs of synth arpeggiation on the chorus. The sounds as fierce and powerful as the accompanying lyrics.

Rodriguez is also capable of writing songs of great beauty. “Make Up” is one such song, one of the most stunning tracks on the album. It opens with a glittering, crystalline synth line than runs through the song. She sings evocatively about a close, freeing relationship—“I don't have to fake it / Don't have to wear make up.… Kiss off all my lipstick / I don't have to fix it.” She continues, achingly: “Why don't we make up our own rules / And break them when we like/Shake me off the branch/And take the biggest bite.”The song is mostly in a minor key, which compliments its yearning tone. On the bridge however, the song switches to a major key and to a more hopeful tone. The bridge features a stunning vocal run: Rodriguez’s voice shoots stratospherically, and for the next few measures she remains in that higher register, her voice soaring, riffing, wordlessly, gorgeously. She sounds utterly and beautifully free, fully in the moment of creative, artistic expression.