Jill Scott's voice is familiar like hair being braided on a stoop, like a fire hydrant pouring out into the street, like a slow summer. Woman, her fifth studio album, is slow in the way that the familiar is slow: we already know what to expect. With Scott, it's mom-and-pop, all-you-can-eat R&B; sexy fun for grown folk over the age of 40, like speed dating at church.
Woman's first track, "Wild Cookie", initially seems like a spoken word ode to "Empire"'s Cookie Lyon, but the lyrics quickly suggest that "Cookie" is a euphemism for the vagina. "Wild Cookie choices lead to lonely pregnancy," Scott says over strings and drums. The vagina in "Wild Cookie", personified, acts on its own. Desirous, it does not have a mind of its own, but it would seem that way. "Just the other day my girlfriend said she was watching TV and her wild cookie detached from its seat." That detachment, that Jill speaks of—that desire—is a magnetizing energy.
Beyond "Wild Cookie", there are other food references. After all, Scott perpetually sings like she's about to cook dinner for a family that isn't even hers. She wants domesticity, craves it. "Prepared", the track that follows the intro poem, has the lyrics "I've been getting recipes off the Internet" and "I've been eating more greens", which come as no surprise for anyone who's ever listened to "The Way" off her first album. Food is a big part of Scott's music. Additionally, in the track "Closure", Scott sings about not making a man quiches and homemade waffles anymore, how he shouldn't expect breakfast.
"I'm on my way, I'm almost there," Scott sings in "Coming to You", a percussion-laden, breathless track, the most urgent on a decidedly slow record. "Coming to You" is a funky, upbeat jam, but for a faster song, it's not necessarily more fun. The fun tracks are the ones that shimmer. "Fool's Gold", arguably the best song, is about a disillusioned Scott who finds herself in a relationship that might as well have been a pipe dream. "I was living the dream/ Believing things that just ain't true/ Oh, I can't believe I ever believed in you/ Had me chasing fool's gold," she sings over a bouncy, enchanting instrumental. Another strong track is "Lighthouse", a somberly reassuring lullaby of a ballad about supporting a lover through trying, burdensome times. "I'm your shelter," Scott sings like an overprotective siren, striking a balance between sexy and soothing.
Intimate and slow-moving, Woman is good but underwhelming. It lacks the dynamism of Who Is Jill Scott?**, the rap features of Light of the Sun. What was new, interesting, and different 15 years ago isn't anymore. Scott's mastered the formula of candlelit, slow-cooker music. Her sense of humor and sensuality, fine-tuned, endearing and bold, is infused throughout this album, but it doesn't feel like enough. It misses the mark, like a lot of great music does, because it's less inventive.
