Nick Hakim seems poised to make a great album. He’s a guitar-slinging soul singer who’s fluent in punk, jazz, psych rock, and hip-hop, a clear descendant of D’Angelo and Funkadelic. His husky voice and unpretentious guitar playing are ideal vehicles for decorative instrumentation: doubled saxophones, flickering Wurlitzer, programmed drums, the occasional synth. While his full-length debut, 2017’s Green Twins, effortlessly demonstrated his virtuosic abilities, 2020’s WILL THIS MAKE ME GOOD sagged with tired melodies and sluggish arrangements, sounding like a neverending studio session where every idea was recorded, even the mediocre ones. Yet Hakim’s talent, as ever, shone through; it was easy to sense a more potent, specific, and emotionally active version of the album buried somewhere in the original. His latest offering, Cometa, creates the same dissonance between what is and what could be. Hakim’s talent is once again on display, but the songs here crumple with limp lyrics and listless structures.
Working with an all-star team of guests, including Alex G, Helado Negro, DJ Dahi, and Andrew Sarlo, Hakim creates sleek, rugged backdrops to croon over, his compositions favoring mood and texture over movement and tension. Most songs are built from simple, stacked guitar riffs, analog hiss, electric bass, and gentle drum patterns. “Vertigo” beautifully blends these components together, leaving Hakim with enough room to sing one of the record’s finest melodies, his vocal harmonies blanketed with reverb and delay. On “M1,” a choral synth meshes with a filtered drum loop as Hakim’s smoky voice rises softly above the instrumentation. Cometa’s at its most engaging when Hakim’s singing seizes the spotlight and resists burrowing beneath the beat, when the production breaks free from its haze and shimmies into an improvisational breakdown, like the fuzzy free-for-all that arrives at the end of “Ani.”
Throughout the album, though, Hakim vanishes behind the production. While there are certainly some standout moments, Cometa aspires to be just another vibe in a vibe-saturated economy. It doesn’t help that Hakim’s lyrics struggle to conjure any memorable image or meaningful emotion. Though he describes the record as a “collection of romantic songs written through different lenses,” Hakim’s writing lacks the detail and specificity required to tell a story, evoke a feeling, or flesh out a metaphor. He operates almost exclusively in euphemism, crafting entire songs around airless bromides like “Time seems to slow down when you’re near me” or “I feel like I’m flying when you stare into my eyes.” “Perfume” is a song about being really into his partner’s perfume; the message at the core of “Market” is that love never dies, sort of like… a flame.
One of the album’s best moments is stashed at the end. “Something” features a crusty acoustic guitar melody and a pocky drumbeat; Hakim’s voice sounds richer and fuller than at any other point on the record. “I just wanna feel something,” he sings once, twice. It’s a biting and propulsive song that clearly communicates his appeal: He’s got undeniable talent, refined taste, and a studio of cool friends. Yet, despite it all, Cometa fails to leave a lasting impression, convey a guiding sensibility, or, worse, clarify anything remotely idiosyncratic about Nick Hakim.
