Following in the thunderous footsteps of the album, the film’s visual companion is at once both a love letter to Solange’s artistic upbringing in Houston’s Third Ward and an electrifying vision for the future. Echoing her sister Beyoncé’s preferred method for causing pop culture pandemonium, When I Get Home's surprise release on Friday set the table for Solange’s brave, beautiful new world, but it was the film released later that day that provided a bountiful feast for the senses that went far beyond the album’s sonic limits.Ĭlocking in at 33 minutes, the “interdisciplinary performance art film” feels like a lightning strike in reverse. Setting aside the overt politics of black feminism that turned its predecessor, A Seat at the Table, into an instant classic, Solange’s latest opus feels like the incense burning, chakra-aligning soul music we never knew we needed a salve for A Seat at the Table’s soul-searing reflection on being a black woman in America. Across the lithe, 39-minute length of When I Get Home, the artist’s voice floats over 19 tracks worth of psychedelic soul, cosmic jazz, and trap beats as she returns to her Houston roots. “Saw things I imagined” she echoes for nearly two minutes as synthesizers and vamping piano chords envelop her. Solange’s cataclysmic new album begins with a whisper.
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