It’s that visceral feeling of laying in bed at night, replaying misspoken conversations like a broken record attempting to understand what went wrong: the birthplace of SZA’s Ctrl.
Turning 21 this week, I have never felt more like an album was released in perfect tune with my own life. Ctrl is the sweet and savory R&B cocktail of love and heartbreak on the brink of one’s twenties. Perhaps, in lieu of this, a toast to women like Rihanna, Beyonce and Solange who set the precedent for the genre with their records. However, while many artists over the decades have tried, heart and soul, to replicate that raw gut-wrenching feeling of not being enough after breakup, no one does it better than SZA. Embedded in collaborations with moguls such as Kendrick Lamar, Travis Scott and Isaiah Rashad, SZA addresses how to balance relationships while simultaneously trying to find oneself.
The album’s debut marked a turn of R&B breakup albums, with its soulful, heartache lyricism pulsating with the woes of wanting to satisfy something unrequited. In its entirety, the Ctrl project is a dreamy medley of synth-rock beats mixed with what it means to be a “20-something” woman in this online day and age of modern dating. Hardly ever before the album’s release in June 2017 were female artists so honest with their post-heartbreak introspection, from “situationships” to summer flings. Now, with the album’s 5-year-anniversary, SZA has offered us a deluxe album to revel in with seven previously unreleased songs.
Though, with the release of this deluxe edition, there is an overwhelming compulsion to reminisce on how the release of Ctrl molded the heartache sphere. SZA’s lyrics critique modern “dating” and the spiraling limbo of women never feeling satisfactory enough in such a way that is as apologetic as it is compelling. In Drew Barrymore, she rhetorically asks her ex if it was “woman enough for you inside me.” A deep contrast from the feminism en vogue more recently. Beyonce’s release of “Lemonade” did have its shock waves. Yet, with this set aside, what SZA does to revolutionize the smooth heartbreak R&B genre is how her lyrics understand that she shouldn’t have to ask why she isn’t enough. She captures that universal emotion of knowing you deserve better and yet settling for the sake of not being alone.
Admittedly, listening back on this album is a refreshing taste of pure, bittersweet honesty. Ctrl is as much of a critique of modern dating as it is a capsule of what it feels like to still feel the need to fit the prototype of beauty which is something nearly every woman experiences in her twenties. From that ex who made us feel like we weren’t physically pleasing enough to accidentally falling for a FWB, throughout, SZA’s emotional spiraling is as real as it gets. Though where she most exceeds expectations is how she understands the pressure of molding into beauty standards in the midst of heartache that hardly any female artists have been able to replicate. I mean, hey, aren’t diamonds made from pressure? Obviously, that post-breakup glow is more of a tear-glazed pondering of what went wrong: a period of vulnerable introspection to pinpoint the tipping flaw.
Especially in this age of dating apps and “ghosting” and stalking one another on every social media platform (yes, even LinkedIn), it’s undoubtedly a garden of thorns. Then, that paramount question lingers: how do I maintain control of my sense of self? In Supermodel, she admits “wish I was comfortable with myself” as a sort of bargaining for male validation. Alas, sometimes, succumbing to beauty standards can feel like a guilty pleasure. Ctrl’s 14-track debut captured precisely this as her singles topped the charts. Before releasing the album, she even tweeted that she was planning on quitting music– and then, she blessed our ears and secured her place as the most nominated woman at the 2018 Grammys.
Now, as I seep further into my twenties, I am beginning to understand Ctrl deluxe at a deeper level. How the glass sound of her voice lulls us into a dreamscape with thoughts, we never dare to speak out loud, and the taboo topics, like sexual satisfaction and personhood, heartbreak albums typically shy away from. Ultimately, we are left with SZA’s unorthodox legacy of sheer vulnerability.
Photo credit: Sharon Alagna
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