Motherhood has often brought out the best in your fave pop stars. Mariah, M.I.A., Madonna, Kelis, Beyoncé: all have stellar postpartum releases to their names, with some explicitly riffing on the theme, and others signaling a shift—sometimes patronizingly referred to as more 'mature'—in sound. These albums all sound very different, but they form a sort of collective statement that motherhood isn't some aesthetic, thematic or musical purgatory for women. We are not content, these working women say, on being aged out, or matron-ized, by the youth-oriented trajectory of the industry.
"Man, I just delivered a nine-pound, 10-ounce baby. I'm a bad motherfucker," Ciara drawls on "Jackie (B.M.F.)", the explosive intro track on her sixth album, Jackie. Named after her own mother, Jackie doesn't necessarily shift Ciara's sound so much as a frame it with a faint redemption narrative, centered around the birth of her baby and her breakup with rapper and erstwhile ex Future. "You actin' like you upgrading me, I upgraded you/ You and me at Fashion Week in Paris, I put you onto that new," goes the album's first single, the breakup ballad "I Bet". But Ciara's never been much for album-length statements. Instead the ATL-reared R&B pop star, best known for her sensuous, studious approach to choreography, has created a career by rewiring the city's full throttle hip-hop motifs into club-friendly pop.
Jackie doesn't do much to allay the feeling, which has followed her for her whole career, that there's better R&B pop out there. But instead of positioning herself against Rihanna—who is only just starting to really find her vocal strength, and who is decidedly not a dancer—or Beyoncé (ha ha), Ciara is content to be a reliable mainstay, a translator of Atlanta's ever-shifting avant-garde and the constant bringer of high-energy dance anthems. She's innovative within her own framework: Before Beyoncé started dabbling with bars, Ciara was already rapping on 2013's "Super Turnt Up" and the album-less Mike WiLL Made It single, "Wake Up, No Make-Up".
The problems with Jackie, a serviceable record that gets better with multiple listens, is that unlike her previous releases it's more heavily focused on paint-by-numbers Dr. Luke electro. And, an even bigger problem—and this is where Ciara has always faltered—is that it hints at a storyline, but doesn't go deeper. Moms totally care about more than just being moms, but consider that Ciara's records are also too often about nothing at all, and it's hard not to wish she'd gone into more depth. It's an opportunity and, again, on Jackie, she doesn't take it. There's a song called "Lullaby" that's not about a baby but tucking a lover in for the evening. The actual lullaby comes toward the very end, with "I Got You"; she sings "Hush, Little Baby" while Future Zahir gurgles the outro.
There are interesting moments: the hesitant merging of post-ratchet trap and drum and bass on "B.M.F.", the Niles Rodgers-esque retro-soul bounce of "Kiss & Tell", and her beatific, waxy vocal performance on "That's How I'm Feelin'" and "Fly". Both are pillowy Polow Da Don electro-lite bangers—the former featuring Pitbull and Missy Elliott—referencing early Ciara, like the jock-jam energy of "1, 2 Step". For Jackie's deluxe edition, Ciara calls upon Joe Jonas to switch up the dewy, gloriously shady "I Bet", featuring imitation-Future yelps and adlibs. And second single "Dance Like We're Making Love", is a gorgeous, sleek midtempo track, similar to Frank Ocean's "Novocane" but with a bigger, airier hook.
She carried her last album cycle off a slow jam about a very public romance ("Body Party"), but "I Bet" just isn't as strong. Jackie's best moments come on those Polow power jams, when the music imitates the explosiveness of Ciara's movement. What would've made Jackie better than the last album—what would've given her the edge that her peers maintain—is some insight behind Ciara's redemption songs.
