Letters Fitzgerald’s Rosegold: Reviewed by Leeroy Ruwizhi
Whilst I cannot divulge how I got into Saul Williams, I can say it was for my conditioning, so I brace for a well spun cocoon of spoken word about unrequited love over Johannesburg beatscape duo; Kamehameha Boyz crafted beats. it is note-worthy how the theme is not inclined to disparaging oneself, rather a celebration of the ability to still give love to whoever who does not know what to do with it. I do not know if a deity can be generous beyond this.
Her pseudonym; Letters Fitzgerald and her debut album is titled after a vibrant emotive color, Rosegold. Anticipation for this eight-track project was heightened by the release of Swarovski Spiders, which I will not get into, but trust you are interested enough for a little treasure hunt:
Velvet Voodoo starts off with whoever listening in a choke-hold of sultry eloquence over what sounds like filtered 808 thuds and strings only Argentine Merseyside can conjure up, surrealism guides the imagery's strokes, there is a tinge of black women detached from patriarchy's claws nimbly navigating heterosexual romance, only because nature demands it. Sah collaborates on this one, adding to the magic, creating a juxtaposition as she describes intimacy which brings the track into full-circle.
Lace 'n Leather is a confliction which you need to resolve quick; should you listen to irrelevant Papi's trippy instrumental or an incision into a book-club and chill'esque encounter, you may want to script your sexts off this, however, Letters Fitzgerald lets you know it is just finesse at the end.
Book of Eve Part One is synonymous to a parable of a woman being short-changed, realizing it and subsequently demanding a reimbursement. This one fades off to a hypnotic melody.
Intergalactic Brothel was written using a revolver and every word is a bullet with electric guitar riffs adding to the Wild West feel. It disarms such you may not hear what she says at the end as it oozes.
The Husky Voice Theory picks up from intergalactic brothel, giving clarity its inaudible end, how certain appearances mellow out withdrawal rage. Riz acclimatises to the psychedelic atmosphere well with bars that will make one nostalgic for Earl Sweatshirt's verse on super rich kids. I am going to put across to you an absurd conspiracy theory; what if he actually is Thebe?
Ballet Boyce is akin to opening treasure chest to an existential gem on how life is more of an art than biology amongst a well concealed preference.
Papi's Interlude, I do not how she managed to get Chief Keef to recite a poem.
Oracle is a serene reminiscent of a lost love which is not really a loss, because unrequited love should be a punishable offense. The guitar licks on this will teleport you to a sunny imaginary place with palm trees and rattlesnakes.
Disclaimer: To conclude there are more layers to this project that I cannot pretend to understand to write on, that said it definitely is worth your fifteen minutes and forty-five seconds.