Process

Within himself he finds the strength to embrace existence, an epiphany achieved after ‘processing’ his feelings thoroughly and honestly. And like the loneliest whale, he did all while sounding like nobody else.

It’s the best R&B debut since FKA Twigs’ LP1.

Process is a moving, musical autobiography of futuristic, soulful electronica and brittle r’n’b.

This is not an album for a breakthrough, nor is it a bastion in the storm. It's something grander.

He’s separated from some of his R&B peers, fellows who douse themselves with sorrow and express their angst through detached, self-centered screeds obsessed with how things should be. Sampha, meanwhile, has an uncanny ability to eloquently express the painful facts of life that we learn to internalize. ... What makes Process exceptional is its delicate focus on relationships corroded and fissured by time and unintentional neglect.

None of it is particularly light. Sampha's exquisite melodies and detailed productions nonetheless make all the references to longing, disturbed sleep, injurious heat, and shattered glass go down easy.

Process was a long time coming, but the wait has resulted in one of the most assured debut albums in recent memory.

As the inclusion of the Neil Armstrong quote suggests, this is a step back towards the sunlight. Where that step leads remains to be seen, but this process has already produced a classic debut album.

Process is an impressive curtain-raiser to what is sure to be an equally impressive solo career.

In the past, he’d mix his voice to fit within the instrumental; on Process, he makes it the focal point. Co-produced with Rodaidh McDonald, Process brings to mind James Blake while nodding to mainstream hip-hop.

Over Process‘ 10 songs, Sampha executes a sonically adventurous vision that’s entirely his own and builds on his enormous potential.

Process seems unlikely to make Sampha a household name in his own right. Yet it has a drama and intensity that should increase his influence on those who already are.

His voice is an art form in itself, breathy and warm and aching with impartial soul. The track’s arrangements are stunning, from the sparse opener Plastic 100°C to the propulsive beat of Blood On Me, while the devastatingly beautiful, reflective piano ballad of (No One Knows Me) Like The Piano would stop the coldest of hearts.

Sampha's lyrics are clever and his voice so inherently likeable that it works. [Apr 2017, p.116]

The British producer/singer, already a low-key presence on albums by Solange, Kanye and Frank Ocean, not only employs a fresh palette of sounds--from the harp-like pluckings of “Plastic 100ºC” to the beguiling Celtic-flavoured organ of “Timmy’s Prayer”--but also applies them to matters beyond romance: notably here, the process of bereavement.

Process is his ‘Carrie And Lowell’, a healing record for the broken, the lovelorn and the lost.

Every listen throws up some new, previously unnoticed innovation.

Despite Sampha’s longstanding prevalence in the music world, the intensely personal nature of Process demands a renewed relationship to his work, one that appreciates the power of distance yet marvels at connection.

Sampha’s journey to now has developed a wonderfully versatile artist, and on Process he succeeds in tying these strands of his musicianship together into a record that’s concise and focused.

While clearly not constructed with commercial ambition at the forefront of its mind, it’s certainly good enough to make an unlikely star of the man behind it.

He's hook man to pop's most advanced megastars – see Solange's "Don't Touch My Hair," Kanye West's "Saint Pablo," Frank Ocean's "Alabama," Drake's "Too Much"--but his debut LP proves him their peer.

Process might not be as bold or as inventive or as life-changing as some of the other records Sampha’s had a hand in during his career, but it does have a quiet, dignified impact that suits its maker. He hasn’t stepped out of his shadowy, background world; instead, he’s invited us to join him there.

Sampha's solo debut sits somewhere between the ghostly avant-soul if Frank Ocean and James Blake's emotionally wrought electronica. [Mar 2017, p.90]

His LP offers enough lyrical courses to chew through. What it lacks is minor and, given his immense talent, a tad comical: vocal delivery that follows through on the words’ emotion.

It’s a comforting record, but one you wish was a little more abrupt in places. Even so, it’s a hugely graceful collection played out with dignity.

It’s underwhelming. This is not to say it doesn’t have beautiful moments, it is not to detract from Sisay’s exquisite voice; but overall this feels like one in a long line of emotive “indietronica” records that slots into one of those “chill and alt R&B” Spotify playlists. It’s fine, but it’s kind of forgettable.