One of the great delights of having a music-loving daughter with eclectic tastes of her own is getting to discover a whole world of artists and songs she's into that may not necessarily have been on my radar. She put me onto Daniel Caesar, whose collaboration with H.E.R. I featured many songs ago, and she also pointed me to the Galen Hooks dance video that I included as a bonus on that post. Credit where credit's due from now on, Sofia!
Marian Mereba (who just goes by Mereba in her work) is another of Sofia's recommendations, and I don't think I can say enough good things about her. Her latest album The Jungle is the Only Way Out is sublime from start to finish: full of atmospheric harmonies, laid-back beats, quietly fierce spoken-word pieces, and coolly-delivered lyrics on love and heartbreak and ambition, all informed by Mereba's questing spirit and singular artistic vision.
It was a challenge (and a pleasure) giving the whole album several listens to decide which song to feature today, but "Sandstorm," with her longtime collaborator J.I.D., keeps floating to the top of the list. It's a breakup song, but so gorgeously realized that it uplifts even through its sadness. Over a skittering lo-fi beat, twinkling jazz piano and a light touch of strings, the two artists weave an intricate, intertwining performance of nostalgia and regret -- alternately singing alone or in unison, completing each other's phrases like ex-lovers still intimately familiar with each other's thoughts. Contrary to the title, the song isn't a storm of angry recrimination -- just the memory of one, recalled now in the bittersweet calm of honest conversation. She sings: "I remember that you got a temper, and I got no filter." He sings: "I couldn't mold you 'cause I didn't own you." It's quite possibly the most exquisite love-on-the-rocks duet I've heard since Neil and Barbra's "You Don't Bring Me Flowers."
Yet the song holds out hope as well -- not for the relationship, but for growing beyond it. "I'm on my own two now," affirms J.I.D., and Mereba concludes: "Take a piece of my love, we've been through enough stuff... Keep the peace, it's all love, don't need no spite / Now we need to grow up and away." There's mutual respect here, and a recognition of each other's autonomy. They haven't been destroyed by this, but made stronger and wiser; after the sandstorm's wreckage comes rebuilding and rethinking, learning from old mistakes and moving on to fashion something new. That's something we can apply to a lot of things besides doomed love, in the days and years ahead.
Mereba adds a spoken-word prelude to the video -- "these mirrors know our secrets" -- and the elegant visuals play with the idea: the lovers are shown in the present moment mostly apart and alone, together only in reflected images in mirrors, as if only these surfaces held the memory of love. It's all so beautifully sad, and worth wallowing in if you're in the mood.
Lyrics here.
BONUS: As mentioned earlier, it was a tough choice between this and several of her other tracks; you really can't go wrong just putting on the album and hitting Play. "Get Free" is a quietly determined song about the struggle to live fully for her dreams and principles, without compromise. "Souvenir" is a musical high, a gentle impressionistic journey through color and exploding light. "Planet U" is a gloriously moody love song showcasing her wordplay and rapid-fire rap skills. "Dodging the Devil" is an amazing spoken-word performance about all the ways the world (and capitalism) grinds you down, and a reminder that how you defend your soul is still your choice to make: "You do get to decide if this tide will capsize you / The Devil's been lied to / The Devil can die too."
And if you have time to enjoy a mini-concert, Mereba's performance for NPR's Tiny Desk music series is a great way to sample her work. I look forward to hearing much more.
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Listen to the Spotify playlist here.
Watch the YouTube playlist here.