The Writers Behind Jorja Smith and Wizkid Are Going Solo — And You Should Care
Why true taste begins with a close read of the credits
DameDame*
Promise
Robots & Humans
A devastating irony persists in music: the surest way to cultivate taste is not by listening, but by reading. Since the mid-15th century, when music publishing first reached a broad audience, scanning composers’ bylines has remained one of the most reliable methods of discovery. This holds true even in the wake of the past fifty years’ mythology of the “recording artist as auteur.” The gestalt—the true substance—resides in the valley of composers. Theirs is the invisible labor: shaping the forms, the enduring structures that undergird our aesthetic experience and judgment, and thus, our very perception of art.
The logic is simple: those who create—composers, writers, producers—are the ones with whom we should engage. They possess a deeper understanding of form than the performer alone. There is strength in their brushstroke, a fidelity to structure, an intuitive command of color and texture. Their aural world—the one that silently conditions so much of what we hear—is the world worth studying. To pore over their credits, learn their names, trace their work across collaborations, and absorb their methods is to undertake a practice long familiar in the visual arts: the “master study,” undertaken to sharpen one’s aesthetic discernment. From this process, patterns emerge, discriminations take root, and taste begins to form.
This hard-won sensitivity is essential to a full engagement with music’s possibilities. To apply one’s cultivated ear—aesthetic intuition, taste, call it what you will—is an end in itself, a pursuit undertaken for its own sake. But it is also a practice that demands continual renewal, a vigilant appetite for input to stave off stagnation. So when a successful songwriting duo decides to step out on their own, the ravenous aesthete pays attention. Because their livelihood lies elsewhere, the solo work of these artists often reflects a higher standard—it simply may not suit the brief of their clientele. The result is a rare opportunity for direct study, unfiltered by commercial demands.
DAMEDAME* is one such example. With a growing list of credits—Jorja Smith, Tems, Wizkid, among others—they’ve proven their compositional acumen and fluency in contemporary forms. All of it coalesces in their latest solo release, PROMISE. The chorus asserts its primacy early on—a buoyant, cresting melody that rises, almost slyly, from sparse accompaniment. Intentionally unadorned, the line flickers in the spotlight, a candle shielded from an imminent downpour. This decision—to lead with the denouement—upends our aesthetic expectations and courts a higher risk of imbalance. But in DAMEDAME*’s studied hands, the inversion breathes freshness into the form, a novelty that justifies itself.
In contrast, the arrangement follows a more conventional trajectory: successive passages add scaffolding—atavistic chants, layered vocals—building toward a familiar climax. Noteworthy is the second verse, where the melodic strain finds a new rhythmic dimensionality; the vocalist’s excitement at this accomplishment radiates through the mix. It is this tension—between orthodoxy and innovation—that gives PROMISE its distinctive edge, showcasing the quiet mastery of its creators.
PROMISE is, in a nod to Thelonious Monk, all “straight, no chaser.” All one needs to enter this world of practiced expertise is to hit the “view credits” button the next time you press play.
Enjoyed reading but don’t feel like subscribing? Please hit the “like” button—it helps others find us!
Listen to a curated playlist of new music reviewed by The Signifyin(g) Review—updated weekly: