Steve Lacy has a thing or two to say about life in this day and age. “Life in the freaked-out generation/ Everybody fucking but nobody gives a fuck/ ’Bout love, just validation,” he sings on ‘doom’, where his self-deprecating humour seems intent on proving his point, as if the person on the other end doth protest, “No, Steve, you’re not that shitty.” If you know Lacy as the ‘Bad Habit’ singer, you’ve heard enough to understand his universal lyrics work best when they feel personal. And when they do on Oh yeah?, the dazed and generally satisfying follow-up to 2022’s Grammy-winning Gemini Rights – when the shoddy existentialism doesn’t distract from its sonic range and spellbound nature – the songs simply get stuck in your head. “That’s the story ‘bout the time I got my life screwed up” are the last lines on the album. When he’s singing about his life, it’s easier to map it onto yours.
1. oh yeah?
Lacy opens the album with a simple rallying cry – “Come on, come on, come on” – piling on layers of acoustic guitar and synths as if trying to force Cage the Elephant back into public consciousness. Then, the sort of cheeky, broad-strokes philosophizing that dominates the album comes into the fore: “Life’s a bitch/ And then you live again/ Tragedies and wins/ Breakups with your friends.” Lacy dumps it all in the same boat and makes steering it sound breezy.
2. is it cool? [feat. SZA]
SZA is the big feature here, but having Fousheé and Ravyn Lenae as co-writers certainly helps with the alchemy of voices on ‘is it cool?’, a back-and-forth about two lovers’ trustworthiness that scans as immediately honest; most of Lacy’s lyrics would fare better in this conversational context. The prickly electric guitar is hypnotic as the singers’ uncertainty loops over the same questions. The first thing SZA comes on to say is that vulnerability is exhausting, and maybe it gets to that point, but Oh yeah? has only just begun.
3. the feeling
The previous song’s confusion brews into a heartfelt power ballad on ‘the feeling’, which, though not a duet, is subtly graced by backing vocals from Alice Smith. The specificity of the final lines also makes their humour more endearing: “When we fucked on your rug, had me floating like Alladin/ When we tripped in that Airbnb, 2019.” Other than that, the details of this fading romance are blurry. Maybe it’s for the better.
4. pure colour [feat. Erykah Badu]
“Woozy” can be used to describe a lot of Steve Lacy’s music; ‘pure colour’ is on a different level. It’s got some of the album’s most head-spinning production from Lacy and Nightfeelings: cavernous drums and vocals, noise booming at the edges. In this environment, Erykah Badu’s desire “to feel lighter” feels entirely justified. “I hardly recognize myself,” Lacy sings as disorientation bleeds over into a total loss of self-control. His music, at least, benefits from becoming more unrecognizable.
5. show you me
Especially in contrast to ‘pure colour’, ‘show you me’ comes off as a run-of-the-mill acoustic ballad. It’s so sulky and plain that lines like “I had some coochie stuck in my teeth” just sound hard-pressed to grab your attention. “Please excuse me, I’m just thinking of the things I wanna say,” Lacy goes on, but the album’s blessed with too many radiant ideas to justify this one slipping in.
6. doom
Still trying to figure out things to say, Lacy ends up laying doomer talk over a standard guitar riff, but framing his writing as generational isn’t the best look. Besides, ‘doom’ drags: when the song is seemingly over, it turns acoustic for an unnecessary minute-and-a-half that literally finds him singing “Blah, blah, blah, blah.” It’s not even funny at that point.
7. nothing
Here’s proof that Lacy can make acoustic guitar work in his music, which is good when it’s bold and surprising, but usually at its best when it’s uncomplicated and romantic. Co-written with Matthew Castellanos, ‘nothing’ perfectly fits those descriptors as Lacy sings about being unable to keep this person off his mind. The song has a simple yet strange way of emulating that magic.
8. lovesexdrugbomb [feat. Cecile Believe]
A solid mix of silly and sultry, you can tell ‘lovesexdrugbomb’ was co-written by Tyler, the Creator, and Cecile Believe’s voice gels satisfyingly with the wah guitar riff. It’s an infectious song that also contains the album’s best example of great comedic timing as Lacy pauses between the lines “Kill your boyfriend” and “‘Kay, maybe that’s excessive.”
9. nice shoes / in your world
The album’s penultimate song is an ambitious two-parter; Tyler’s influence is evident even if he’s not behind the credits on this one. Flitting between hectic and dreamy electronics, Lacy flaunts his musical fluidity, even though there’s only so much he can do with the track’s nine-minute runtime. In the end, it feels overwrought.
10. bebe
Lacy could have ended the album right after singing “Let’s go before the party ends” on the previous song, but we’re lucky there’s a little epilogue to Oh yeah?, because it might be its most memorable song. It sounds like he’s been listening to Sharp Pins and Jessica Pratt, reflective in a sober kind of way. Lacy’s too flexible an artist to make an album full of transfixing this sort of power-pop, but it’s the spirit of ‘bebe’ you hope carries onto his next album: bewitched, playful, genuine.
