Yaya Bey – Remember Your North Star (2022) Hi-Res

The 18 tracks on Yaya Bey’s latest aren’t so much a collection of fully fleshed-out songs as snippets and charismatic stray thoughts—with moments of brilliance—all ping-ponging about in a way that keeps you completely engaged. Sexy and sex-positive, the tracks play around with neo-soul on the Lizzo-exuberant “big daddy ya” and “reprise,” as horns blast open the sky while Bey raps the verses and sings like a chanteuse: “to the moooooooooon.” A “what if?” song, it explores how your history shapes you, cracks spreading through a family, splitting and fracturing and reaching into future relationships no matter how you try to ignore them. “alright” is a warm embrace of smooth jazz, Bey’s voice playing off the notes, bouncing around and slowing down to the point it almost sounds like someone spinning a 45 at 33 RPM for a second. “meet me in brooklyn” uses summer-breeze reggae as Bey sets up what seems like a love story—”Let me know what you wanna come test me, boy . . . come, little baby, tell me that you love me so.” It fades out at just about a minute and a half, then the carousel-like melody picks right back up—but this isn’t like jumping from black-and-white into glorious technicolor: In the morning light, Bey looks at this guy who’s suddenly sleeping on her couch, raising her suspicions every time his phone rings, and begs “How did we get here?” She puts her elastic voice to remarkable use on “rolling stoner,” stretching from smoky and sultry to songbird coos as a sweet jazz piano trembles. There’s also a dose of chill afrobeat (“pour up” with its hypnotic drums and Bey’s slithering delivery: “Rolling up a little sticky-icky baby/ Show a little bit of titty baby”) and some Minnie Ripperton-meets-Erykah Badu vibes on “street fighter blues.” Glimmering in low light, “keisha” is an irresistible earworm: “Why you no like nice things?” Bey asks a lover who makes things harder than they need to be. There are also plenty of interludes, from the low murmur of “libation” to the helium-voice skit “uh uh nxgga” (“Don’t call my phone/ call that bitch . . . call a lawyer, call the doctor, don’t call me!”) to a real heartbreaker of a diary entry. “I’m the daughter of a girl/ who could go missing/ for seven years/ 31 years/ and the world wouldn’t miss a beat,” Bey offers on the spoken word “i’m certain she’s there”—guaranteed to devastate in 42 seconds or less.