Pulling a Blood Orange (à la Angel’s Pulse) by deciding to call Sailing Soul(s) a mixtape rather than an album, Jhené Aiko gives us a sonic reprieve from the daily ills of this world (though that always seems evermore impossible) with a re-release in honor of the ten-year anniversary of the 2011 album that showed the music world who she was. Fresh from bringing us Chilombo only last year (not yet knowing she had created an ideal quarantine record), Sailing Soul(s) continues the laid-back vibe that Hawaii inspired on the former, in addition to highlighting how Aiko’s earlier work remains resonant.
Starting with, naturally, “the beginning,” Aiko offers an auditory amuse-bouche that serves plenty of psychedelic Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (think: “A Day in the Life”) vibes at a mere nine seconds before leading into “stranger.” A deeply personal song (not just for Aiko, but most women) that addresses a sense of déjà vu one gets when being similarly abused in different relationships. Thus, Aiko bemoans, “Similar ways, similar game/Starting to feel the similar pain/Are you sure we haven’t met before?” Going through the same heartache repeatedly yet never seeming to learn her lesson, Aiko begins to reconcile that when it comes to the men she’s let into her life, it truly is same shit, different day, decrying, “You said you are different but you’re the same/Stranger, I cannot tell you/How many there have been/That were just like you I do not need you/‘Cause you’re just like them.”
This motif leads in perfectly to “hoe” featuring Miguel. But instead of this word being wielded derogatorily, it is intended as a term of endearment by way of being an acronym for Happiness Over Everything. Taking inspo from Andre 3000 with the lines, “I hope she don’t think that I think that she some kinda ho/I don’t care, that just lets me know that/She knows what she wants, yeah.” Letting us know that being a hoe simply means having the confidence to let people know what you want (including sex), Aiko confirms, “Yeah, I chose happiness over everything/Over anything and it’s everything.”
Next is a track that some might confuse for a sentiment similar to The Beatles’ (who knew Aiko would share such a wealth of parallels to this band?) “I Me Mine.” But no, “my mine,” per Aiko’s statement on the track, refers to “that dark place you mine for precious minerals… well, my mind is a dark place full of memories… like a mine.” Oh Jhené, whose isn’t? Except for those freaky folk who, for whatever reason, do not possess an internal monologue. As the expert lyricist that she is, Aiko knows she would be remiss if she didn’t wield the opportunity to use “mine” for the double meaning it has as she sings, “Memories sinkin’, deep in, leakin’ in my mine/All of the time tried to forget you/Thought I could get you to be mine/Memories sinkin’, deep in, leakin’ in my mine…/Tried to forget you in my mine.” A “mine” is a terrible thing to waste, and yet, sometimes we have to wonder if we’d be better off with the lobotomizing benefits of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’s Lacuna Inc. And speaking of erasing things, while “july” featuring Drake came before “my mine” on the 2011 version of Sailing Soul(s), it is nowhere to be found on this edition.
What follows is every high school “loser’s” fantasy song, “popular,” which details the diminishment in clout of a former “true pimp.” One who Aiko put up with because “I was the young girl, I was the dumb girl/I was the one who could never be your one girl.” As the most acoustic, “Swiftian” song on the album, of course it could only be about the pains that occur so specifically in high school. Alluding to 50 Cent’s 2002 song, “Wanksta,” Aiko goads, “Damn, homie, in high school you was the man, homie/The fuck happened to you?” Older and wiser now, she can see that “Mister Popular” was always doomed to peak too soon. Then again, it could just be another pretty story as many “peak-too-sooners” go on to ascend to even higher heights (like Cameron Diaz).
For those unfamiliar with the concept that gave rise to the mixtape’s title, it stemmed from Aiko responding to a meeting she had with a record label during which one of the executives foolishly remarked, “I love everything but when you come into these meetings you have to sell yourself.” Once this modern form of would-be prostitution was over and Aiko could walk out of the room, she realized, “I’m not a slave to anyone; I’m sailing my soul instead of selling it.” That’s also why the album’s cover features Aiko emerging from the ocean in chains. Hence, a song like “real now” featuring Dominik, Hope and K. Roosevelt. Granted, it isn’t so much about keeping it real as disappearing into the unreal in order to cope with unwanted realities like record executives telling you to “sell yourself” when, if the material is good, that isn’t a necessity (the way it was for, say, Jessica Simpson). And, like Kendrick Lamar would shortly after Aiko with 2012’s “Swimming Pools (Drank),” the sweet release of alcohol is explored through the lyrics, “What I feel, what I feel now/What is real?/What is real now?/Am I still, am I here now?/If I’m still, will I feel now/What is real now?” Probably nothing, sober or otherwise. Dominick is the one to further corroborate, “My best solution is just to escape from it/So pour another drink/Give me a pill or two/‘Cause I don’t wanna think.” And that’s certainly been the general sentiment for the past year.
Unlike the notion of everyone being all too ready to sell themselves at any price if it means a bit of extra cash during these economically lackluster times. But “sailing NOT selling” came out at a time when it was slightly easier to have principles. And a time when it was less “political” to feature Kanye West on a track (though that feels like a period that never could have existed). Thus, this “abridged” version of the song only features Aiko’s vocals as she warns, “If you don’t get a hold of yourself/Then you will end up with no self” and “You better keep your soul/Set sail or get sold.” To be a bit crude, there is an entire race of people who would argue that not setting sail is what might have prevented them from getting sold. But anyway, you get Aiko’s point–no matter how much money it seems like in the moment, it’s never worth the cost of compromising artistic integrity.
Another ditty featuring Hope is “do better blues,” a slow jam that explores one of Aiko’s favorite themes, the simultaneous agony and ecstasy of a love/hate relationship. As Hope argues that she can do better in terms of making their dynamic more pleasant, she fights back, “If I could do better/Then you can do better too.” At the same time, breaking up in order to do better with someone else feels highly out of the question as she reflects, “But I don’t want better/‘Cause I’m only better with you.”
A girl after Rihanna’s own heart (as she, too, released a song of the same name on 2016’s ANTI), “higher” wields the expected California girl metaphor of a great love acting as the same kind of high that weed–that good shit from the Golden State–can give. With its moody and slightly aggravated tone, the auditory contrast makes the vocals stand out all the more as Aiko assures, “I will get you higher/My love will get you high, high” before demanding, “Take a hit of this and then tell me how you feel/Tell me how it good feels/When you can’t get rid of it, then/That’s how you know it’s real.”
Making more sailing analogies on “you vs them,” Aiko explores something Lauryn Hill was wont to do on 1998’s “Zion,” when she questioned whether or not she should have a child just as she knew her career was about to take off. Aiko, too, had the same concerns, but like Hill, was ultimately overpowered by the love she had for the fetus growing inside of her. Unlike Hill, Aiko managed to strike a balance between motherhood and career. This has led to the overall “chill” that emanates from everything Aiko does, including the lullaby-like “space jam.” As arguably the only song to ever pay slight homage to the 1996 movie of the same name, one could argue that rather than a Capulet/Montague sort of tale, it is one that details the divide between the cartoon world and the real world as Aiko croons, “We come from two different worlds.” Don’t Michael Jordan and Bugs Bunny know it.
It is at this point that the differentiation between the Sailing Soul(s) of 2011 and the Sailing Soul(s) of 2021 becomes clearest. For on the former things almost end with “space jam” before “growing apart too” featuring Hope and Kendrick Lamar concludes the mixtape. On the 2021 edition, we instead get to hear the slow-paced tone of “space jam” continue with “living room flow” (in lieu of “growing apart too,” apparently), which is just that. The ideal “relaxation” music to smoke to. Or, more accurately, fuck on the floor to. For this is all Aiko wants–all she can really commit to (as discussed on the trauma anthem that is “stranger”). So it is that Aiko trills, “I’m so, glad you, called right on time/You must have just read my mind/If we skipped the small talk/Want you now but I don’t have to stay til mornin’/I don’t have to, I don’t have to pack no clothes/I am really not that lonely/We finished, we finished and I will go.” Keeping it real simple indeed. Yet lyrics like these also clearly predate the needy era brought on by the pandemic and everyone being in a desperate furor to find “their quarantine.”
In the spirit of The Velvet Underground’s “I’ll Be Your Mirror” and Taylor Swift’s “mirrorball,” Aiko discusses the notion of being a reflection of another on “mirrors.” She muses, “If I’m your reflection/Then, baby, you must be an angel/‘Cause when the light hits you just right/One could mistake you for a star/That is exactly what you are.” Except that we soon find this slightly narcissistic description isn’t about a lover, but rather, an account of the “famous self” she sees in the glass–the plot twist revealed with, “You’re my reflection/So tell me, why can’t you be more clear?” Like some Jekyll and Hyde shit but with a Narcissus versus whatever Greek god should be named after Low Self-Esteem tinge, Aiko further describes, “But then the night takes over/And there is no one else around/Your face in broken pieces/Don’t you look down.” Because apparently even famous people need to take a long, hard look in the mirror now and again.
As the record draws to its close, there is an especial “I made it through the wilderness” motif to “2 seconds”–which requires far more than that at two minutes and twenty-seven. Because, instead, the two seconds refers to how close she is to “flipping out” on the man who won’t stop acting jealous and mistrustful of everything she does. Here, Aiko is given the opportunity for another sailing metaphor via, “Cry me an ocean, build you a boat, then sail away/If this is so difficult, I cannot make you stay.” Nor does she want him to as she realizes the potential for liberation in being alone.
The subject addressed in “2 seconds” remains on “snapped” as well (a song that bears increasing amounts of “trigger warning” cachet with each new mass shooting). Only this time Aiko is coming with more guns blazing at a literal level. With certain lyrics echoing what Madonna said in “Revolver,” Aiko declares, “That’s why I line ’em up/Shoot ’em down”–because they’d all treat her like shit otherwise. As such, Aiko feels no sympathy toward so-called “innocent men, delicate men/They never see that gun in my hand/So they proceed, do what they please/Till they are bloody, screamin’ for Jesus/It’s either that or me letting them/Disrespect me with different women/But I refuse to be the victim/So I guess I’m a killer/Call me a murderer/Some kind of monster.” Men have certainly called women worse when they decide to advocate for themselves without walking on eggshells (and all for the inane adherence to some patriarchal version of what it means to be “ladylike”).
On the warpath until the end, the final bonus track, “B’s & H’s”–first performed in 2015–stands for “bitches and hoes.” But the only bitch and ho being described in this coda of a slow-flowing narrative is the man who keeps stepping out on the woman paying for all his bills. He is, in short, what TLC would call a scrub–but at that next level tier, managing to worm his way into one woman’s household and bank account while skeevily putting on airs of being some kind of “P.I.M.P.” when he’s on the streets.
Luckily, Aiko is there to remind him who he really is with, “I bet they don’t even know, oh/That you live in her home/Eating all of her food/She be paying your bills/Buying all of your clothes/And she pay for your phone.” And yes, it’s true, sugar mamas are becoming increasingly common in this climate, as it appears a girl has to, for all intents and purposes, pay for any kind of adequate dick nowadays. So the least he could do is act right in exchange. But then, when has a man ever acted right, or even felt shame for that matter? On Sailing Soul(s), Aiko does her best to show precisely why he should while also asserting that she’s still the same empowered, take no prisoners woman she’s been since her singing career as we know it began.
