If you love hard enough, you’ll experience some sort of heartbreak. It’s just a thing that happens, and it doesn’t matter how many dates you enjoy or how many roses you buy. Some people will simply leave you in limbo—with lingering pain, unresolved questions and mounds of regret to sort through. It’s this same fog that permeates Michael Kiwanuka’s new album, Love & Hate, a sprawling soul opus full of longing and self-assessment. The singer sounds perplexed through its entirety, and his voice—a throaty wail the likes of Otis Redding—teeters between hope and hopelessness, perseverance and surrender. Should he stick around, or is it time to move on? And just what is he supposed to do now? Kiwanuka wrestles with these and other queries on Love & Hate, even if he never gets the answers he’s looking for.
Even getting to that point has been a challenge. He won the BBC’s Sound of 2012 and was nominated for a UK Mercury Prize. Following the success of his gold-selling debut album, Home Again, Kiwanuka found himself in a weird space creatively, rubbing elbows with Kanye West, although he wasn’t sure if he belonged. At one point, West invited the UK singer/guitarist to sing on his Yeezus sessions in Hawaii and Paris. “I was lost, absolutely lost,” Kiwanuka told the London Evening Standard in May. “I just felt stupid sitting there with my acoustic guitar with all these producers and rappers. He didn’t tell me what he wanted … I wanted him to tell me what to do because I didn’t know how to do it.” Kiwanuka fuels his music with the same self-doubt, crafting nomadic tales of a man in perpetual movement and unrest. On Home Again, which combined Memphis soul and bluesy folk, Kiwanuka was the understated journeyman, thumbing through his desolation to find personal peace.
For Love & Hate, Kiwanuka linked with producer Brian “Danger Mouse” Burton, best known for his work as one-half of Gnarls Barkley with Cee-Lo Green, and Broken Bells with Shins frontman James Mercer. Here, Burton brings Kiwanuka out of his shell, encouraging him to build songs from scratch in the studio, composing robust tracks that feel equally large and nostalgic. “Cold Little Heart”—the album’s 10-minute opener—is easily the record’s best song, landing somewhere between Pink Floyd’s soul/rock hybrid and Isaac Hayes’ orchestral arrangements. Throughout Love & Hate, Kiwanuka is backed by a full choir, which adds a richness not heard on his previous album. He doesn’t sound so isolated here, and the music itself feels grand and triumphant. On “Black Man in a White World,” Kiwanuka rides a jaunty Afrobeat instrumental to convey his inner racial strife: “I’m in love, but I’m still sad/I found peace, but I’m not glad.” In this instance, Kiwanuka speaks to the hearts of those who want the best out of humanity, even as the world implodes.
Love & Hate is a bittersweet offering, pulling from ’60s and ’70s soul, growing more melancholy as it plays. And while it’s a creative step forward for Kiwanuka, it’s still tough to get a sense of just who he is at times. Names like Marvin Gaye and Curtis Mayfield immediately come to mind, and on “The Final Frame,” Kiwanuka’s spacious guitar chords recall Parliament Funkadelic’s Eddie Hazel. Kiwanuka takes pieces from these icons, resulting in a nice effort with occasional tedium, somewhat stalling the momentum. It’s clear Kiwanuka is still working through his angst. He'll need time to find inner tranquility.
