According to memes and folklore, people who wear all-black Air Force 1s are menaces to society. Unkempt and ungovernable, they clomp through life indifferent to the dust accumulating on their kicks and the darkness gathering in their souls. The shoes are so maligned that even in Nelly’s classic paean to the Nikes, no one raps about or rocks black Forces. (One person does buy some.) Despite that stigma, serpentwithfeet dedicates a song on his third album to the quiet confidence of a guy giving off black Air Force energy in the club. “Ain’t nobody fucking with you,” he coos flirtatiously. Club scenes and sounds are fixtures of GRIP, which trades the gnostic gospel of the singer and producer’s past music for saucy R&B. serpentwithfeet has always been a student of the genre, but lately he’s been in active conversation with its history and motifs. DEACON wove Janet’s earnestness, Brandy’s vocal runs, and Darkchild’s quiet-storm fronts into tender odes to queer Black men. The record retained his signature interest in religious symbols and themes, but the music took more cues from R&B than gospel or electronic—a trend that continues here. Firmly planting a flag in modern R&B, serpent explores the ways that touch sparks and sustains romance.
His songwriting is punchier and more direct in this purist mode. There are more come-ons and solicitations than innuendo or symbolism, a shift that fits the intimate theme. “Kiss you longer, longer than an opera/If we keep on dancing, we gon’ make love,” he sings on floorfiller “Damn Gloves,” framing a deep smooch as an intervention. The humid and pounding beat, produced by Nosaj Thing, I Like That, and serpentwithfeet, ups the urgency of the command. You can feel the charged proximity of the dancers’ bodies.The writing on “Safe Word” is just as loaded and beckoning. “The safe place is me, safe place is me,” he sings, declaring his body a sanctuary for a lover. Vocal processing embellishes the protective sentiment, smearing his words across Sensei Bueno and I Like That’s soft drums and cool melodies. serpentwithfeet notably treats his vocals throughout the album, rarely relying on his operatic falsetto. The choice feels intentional: As stunning as his upper register is, even at its most ecstatic, it exudes anguish and solitude. The breathy, immediate singing of GRIP is more conversational, evoking closeness, exchange, and community.
The beats aren’t always as distinctive as serpentwithfeet’s storytelling and performances. The bass-heavy and uptempo arrangements of “Black Air Force” and “Rum / Throwback” bring to mind the generic fare DJs play when the club doors open. On songs about the meet-cutes and hook-ups that happen beyond the dancefloor, the production is more striking. “Deep End” is delightfully airy, gentle percussion and puffs of synth nudging along his dulcet melodies as he sings of a one-night stand that lasts 12 days. “Hummin” is built atop a slowed four-on-the-floor pattern that Stwo, Nosaj, and I Like That garnish with knocks and keys. The steady rhythm complements serpent’s sensual eruptions of melody.
At a glance, GRIP can feel slight next to the rapturous drama of soil and the blissful vignettes of DEACON, which both use negative space and dynamics to ratchet up the intensity of the music. These songs are not as impassioned or ornate as “cherubim” or “four ethers,” but serpentwithfeet hasn’t lost his bite. Sticking to R&B helps him refine his focus. Instead of epics, he offers instants, zooming in on the passing gestures and feelings that aggregate into love. “If God is a god at all/He lives in your grip,” he croons on “Lucky Me, sensing a flicker of the divine in a single embrace. Your local black Forces enthusiast might contain multitudes.
