“I’m just a girl in the crowd,” sings R&B singer Justine Skye on “Just a Girl,” the banging opener of her dance-forward, house-fueled new album, CANDY: “Put the spotlight on me now.” That might seem like a predictable, raise-your-hands-to-the-ceiling dancefloor lyric, but it also serves as a lens on Skye’s career so far. Having blown up on Tumblr as a teenager in the 2010s, she got signed to Atlantic Records at 19 and scored a hit, “Collide,” with Tyga in 2014. Since then, she’s released music on Roc Nation, Republic, and as an independent artist; co-starred on the TV show Grown-ish; and, finally, signed a new deal with Warner Brothers. The industry tried to turn Skye into a pop star multiple times, but none of it really stuck. Her last album, 2021’s Space & Time, was executive-produced by Timbaland—not that anyone would have noticed, since whatever Skye brought to the table in charisma and would-be star power was met with generic R&B stylings and lethargic beats that paled in comparison to the legendary producer’s heyday. By her own account, Skye was aware she was being sold short: “I started to brainwash and manipulate myself into being like, ‘Okay, I do relate to this song,’” she said recently. “I had no relation to any of the songs that I was singing in the past.” Groomed as a star, she’d ended up instead as an anonymous face in a crowded field.
CANDY, then, is Skye’s spotlight: a prismatic blast of color pointed directly at her. You can feel Skye’s relief at ditching her old persona, and while “girls just want to have fun” isn’t necessarily a novel take for a pivot to dance music, the hedonistic joy and theatrical fantasy at the core of CANDY are infectious. A song like “Bitch in Ibiza” could have sounded trite, but Skye sidesteps club-tourist cliché thanks to bouncy bass and an irresistibly laid-back flow. Rap-singing over a sexy, sweaty house beat, Skye weaves a tale of clubland abandon—“just another bitch in Ibiza,” “blacked out, off the Lime-a-Rita,” stumbling down the beach in heels and savoring every blurry second of it. It’s campy and a touch ridiculous, but in a way that throws caution to the wind, like downing that last shot you know is going to rocket you through the rest of the night..
“Pop It” is equally effervescent. The chorus’ sing-song effect, where Skye repeatedly instructs her man to “pop it open”—his wallet, her thighs, bottles, whatever—might be the album’s catchiest moment, even before the track explodes into sleek tropical synth stabs and thumping bass. Skye has done her due diligence when it comes to making a dance record: “Oh Lala” is one of several production credits from Kaytranada, and there are few artists better qualified to shepherd a young R&B vocalist into the ranks of dancefloor diva-dom. The percussion does a lot of the heavy lifting, as Skye’s lofty falsetto is paired with slinky tambourines and a pounding kick drum. The song’s almost animalistic sensuality is miles away from the safe choices Skye has made—or been asked to make—until now.
“Thong” is another Kaytranda track, with a beat that sounds like it was composed on PVC pipes in the world’s most glamorous pool house. Skye’s breathy vocalizing and fully realized sexuality recall Janet Jackson anywhere between 1993 and 2004—another artist who bridged the gap between R&B and dance without compromising her vision of either. The title CADY is apt, as Skye dips in and out of moods and elements as though clutching a grab bag of flavors. “Ear Candy,” co-written with Cakes da Killa, sees her take a stab at rapping and succeed, fitting lines like, “You got a mixed drink, I’m taking big shots/No chasers, ’cause I’m a big dog” perfectly within the song’s tight frame.
Even though Skye has been performing and releasing music for all of her adult life, CANDY feels like a debut—maybe because she finally sounds unburdened, now singing about basslines, money, and beachwear. At only eight tracks and 25 minutes, the album might have gained some added depth from a little more variation in style and mood. But Skye’s newfound personality never outstays its welcome: CANDY’s unbridled ecstasy offers the metamorphosis she needed to break out of the boxes she had been stuffed into. After Rochelle Jordan Sudan Archives, Jessie Ware, and even Beyoncé herself, Skye is the latest in a long line of artists who have, even temporarily, crossed over into house music to make a point about the importance of pleasure. Her take might not be the most layered or complex, but it came at the right time. Like many a bitch in Ibiza, she’s living for the moment right now.
