The South Carolina vocalist and producer presents an attainable vision of R&B on his latest EP, an unpretentious suite of pure bedroom music greater than the sum of its vibes.
For years, R&B was the most aspirational of American music. Unlike the ardent family men of ‘70s and ‘80s soul, the leading male voices of ‘90s and ‘00s R&B were at once doting monogamists and incorrigible philanderers, forever vacillating between intimate ballads and sheepish apologies. In their lusty accounts, sex was a feat of Olympian athleticism; even the d-listers had abs like Jaheim and hairlines like Ginuwine. By 2012, the proliferation of home recording equipment and Frank Ocean’s more unassuming sound had helped lower the barriers to entry, but where Ocean’s music brimmed with piercing details, his chill-’n-B descendants modeled ambivalent restraint. Sure, every The-Dream album sounded like a penthouse with a waterbed on a rotating platform, but at least he went for it—Leven Kali and dvsn mostly sound like they have better things to do.
On his latest EP Love Suite, the South Carolina vocalist and producer Contour aims to split the difference with unpretentious R&B that’s greater than the sum of its vibes. On past outings, the Charleston native has tinkered with everything from claustrophobic psych-pop to instrumental hip-hop, but Love Suite is pure bedroom music built around spare instrumentation and single-tracked vocal melodies. Contour’s keyboard synths provide a jazzy sparkle, but the EP’s warmth lies in its juxtaposition of lively stand-up basslines with programmed drum patterns. On “Pour,” the upbeat bass and chopped vocal sample make for a Brown Sugar-flavored looseness, and “Song for Me” features a bright vocal layered over a murky rhythm arrangement. The percussion lends structure without any of the 808’s domineering heft—it all goes down pretty smooth.
Contour sings with a throaty inflection somewhere in the neighborhood of Khalid and Ty Dolla $ign, and his coolly poetic lyrics are written for Love Suite’s audience of one. On the highlight “Labor Of,” he poses some big-picture questions (“Will the labor of love save us? Or will the current of hearts take us?”), but Blue November’s well-placed rap verse maintains the song’s relaxed aplomb. In a few instances, soupy vocal effects reduce Contour’s voice to just another instrument in the mix, and his performance isn’t animated enough to seize back the spotlight. Although the EP is well-sequenced, its moments of confession and conflict are few and fleeting.
Part of the reason is that the songs themselves lack trajectory, Contour prioritizing roomy grooves over verse-hook-bridge framework. Love Suite’s songs range from one to five minutes in length, but the effect is largely the same—the tracks quickly establish static moods without any climaxes or comedowns to speak of. Still, the moods are intricate and richly evoked, and although Contour’s reserved deportment can make his ballads somewhat enigmatic, it also ensures that they never lapse into bitterness. On the penultimate song “Outmyface,” the jittery drum pattern and pulsing keys are matched by the vocal’s heavy reverb, and the disconsolate opening verse builds toward a dramatic string interlude. Even at its most laidback, Love Suite’s sparks are dizzying, its shadows suggestive of tantalizing possibility, and Contour’s vision of love feels, well, attainable.
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