A Seat at the Table

Weariness gives way to willingness as Solange unpacks and ultimately celebrates Blackness, from the politics of Black hair in Don’t Touch My Hair (featuring Sampha) to a reclamation of Black masculinity in Scales (featuring Kelela).

The album radiates universal beauty and truth in the tradition of Stevie Wonder and Minnie Ripperton--and the whole world could simply use more of that.

Though at times it rages, it also rebukes division and seeks dialogue. In the same way black art is enriched by its complicated history, A Seat at the Table shines due to Knowles’ unwavering commitment to her own complexity, both musically and personally.

Here's an album of beautiful R&B songs, and she's chosen to intersperse them with messages of black empowerment.

Album number three is her finest, and most topical, yet.

A Seat at the Table is intensely rich and gracious in its candor, so much so that it’s quieter, painstakingly personal moments are every bit as robust as direct aggression. Its soulful flow is luscious and languid, and simply dazzles in the graceful, airy beauty of Cranes In the Sky, where Solange’s voice floats to stratospheric altitudes.

A cathartic yet poised album, one that weighs a ton and levitates.

There’s no pure pop moments like Losing You and she may never generate the same amount of press inches as her elder sister does on a regular basis, but this third album is an endlessly compelling one.

A Seat at the Table is her strongest work to date.

The wealth of talent on A Seat at the Table is well-showcased--it’s among the most exquisite productions of the year, each track silken-smooth and replete with quietly virtuosic instrumental flourishes—and in service of a story of pain and healing.

A Seat At The Table--like the headlines of 2016--is the score of black pain, black rage, black strength and black joy. And for everyone else enjoying the enticing R&B, it's for the rest of us to quiet ourselves, listen, learn and respect.

It’s her exploration of the nuances of black life that makes this one of the year’s standouts. Even in a time when black pop artists have grown especially political, the work feels critical.

A Seat demands a careful listen, and rewards it richly. This is Solange's strongest album to date.

A Seat at the Table is in no hurry to deliver a knockout punch. Instead, its subtle grooves and delicate vocals underplay the steely resolve, the long-simmering ache in the words.

A Seat at the Table, her third full-length album, is the work of a woman who’s truly grown into herself, and discovered within a clear, exhilarating statement of self and community that’s as robust in its quieter moments as it is in its funkier ones.

She draws you into the shadows and crumbling concrete of America, a nation in which, as Knowles pointed out in a recent online essay, “a former Ku Klux Klan leader is running for Louisiana senator.” [Dec 2016, p.54]

A sensitive, sure-footed triumph. [Jan 2017, p.99]

Daunting and at times exhausting, A Seat at the Table is still an undeniably important work.

A Seat At The Table is an expertly-curated, a near-perfect record that serves as a timely, musical manifesto on how to be black and proud.

Her music is smart, rich and thoughtful enough to pull it off.

Her minimalist distillation of R&B, which takes into consideration not just the genre's rich musical history but also its penchant for social commentary, has resulted in a stunning statement that redefines the old chestnut about the personal being political.

It’s lusciously written, produced, and arranged.

It’s safe to say that though big sis Beyoncé has run her close recently, she’s once more the most intriguing Knowles sibling.