Naturally, a self-described “jazz princess” arrives with fanfare. The opening trumpet blares of Amy Gadiaga’s new EP BabyGoated announce that we’re in the presence of royalty—and that if you don’t give the London-via-Paris musician her crown, she’ll put it on herself. Themes of self-ennoblement run throughout this playful and prodigious jazz-pop suite, a quartet of songs explore the pleasures (and sometimes, perils) of gassing yourself up. On BabyGoated, Gadiaga earns the right to brag—and proves she knows the point of being a queen is to be benevolent, not boastful.
“BabyGoated” is a term Gadiaga invented to describe herself; as she puts it, “both vulnerable (baby) and bold (goated).” It’s an apt description for this music, a genre-fluid swirl of billowy jazz and harmony-stacked soundscapes where horn-filled baddie anthems coexist with expressive arias and youthfulness doesn’t feel at odds with sophistication. A recent graduate of Trinity Laban Conservatoire, Gadiaga spoke a more formal jazz dialect on her first EP, All Black Everything, a precise if polite record filled with snatches of scat-singing and extended double bass solos (the upright is Gadiaga’s primary instrument). BabyGoated trades the academic for the syncretic to invigorating effect: these arrangements feel plusher and more lived-in, embracing a fused vocabulary both lyrically (through her inclusion of slang in English and French) and musically (through embracing neo-soul and experimental impulses).
In recent years, a new crop of jazz artists have crossed the pop Rubicon with their genre trappings more-or-less intact. Gadiaga’s approach isn’t as traditionalist as Samara Joy’s or as nerdy as fusion acts like DOMi and JD Beck—instead, she stakes a claim on the sweet and porous border between jazz and R&B. A stacked cast of session players bring the sound of BabyGoated to life, including a touring guitarist for Burna Boy and a celebrity of the Brixton Windmill scene: Who else but Black Midi drummer Morgan Simpson could be responsible for those deliciously cacophonous fills on the EP’s swirling outro?
Gadiaga plays bass throughout BabyGoated—most prominently on the title track’s deep groove, an insistent bassline flirting with Afrobeat—but her honey-sweet voice is the star here. Though her curlicued runs sometimes threaten to tip into cursive singing, her rich background vocals offer a foundation for her to flex across varied modes. On “intro (imma pick you up),” she chants a pep-talk over layered harmonies that anchor her sing-song spoken-word. On “BabyGoated,” she coos the chorus in English and in French, as if auditioning to become your new favorite polyglot pop star. “Brunheau reine des francs,” a witchy meditation on greed and mortality inspired by a medieval monarch, finds her possessed with the dark theatricality of a cabaret singer recounting a tragic parable.
One of the shortcomings of a 13-minute, four-track EP is the steep drop-off between boastful banger and mournful incantation: Within the span of a minute, Gadiaga jumps from “I got my new shit on and lipgloss matchin’” to “Even I will depart like all the birds of the earth.” (Oof. Sometimes it’s like that). In fairness, this is kind of Gadiaga’s thesis—get too drunk off your own greatness, and you’ll sober up to the fact that “there is only one king of all things.” But forget to toot your own horn occasionally, and you’ll become one of those “dumb ass bitches” who “don’t understand their power.” On BabyGoated, Gadiaga wants to help us claim our right-sized thrones. “Do you remember your dreams are alive?” she asks on the final track. In case you’d forgotten, the imagination and enthusiasm in this music offer an exceptional reminder.
