Banks’ highly anticipated debut, Goddess, was
one 2014’s most bewitching efforts, expertly blending brooding R&B with
melancholic narratives of anguish, self-destruction and redemption. The record’s
naked introspection established Banks as one of contemporary music’s rawest and
most vulnerable songwriters, and her sonic ambition, emphasised by a sustained
willingness to experiment with electronica and trip-hop, allowed her to carve a
distinctive, personal space within a saturated musical genre. Her sophomore
effort, The Altar, is even more tenacious, as the songstress continues to refine
and expand upon the razor-sharp formula of her debut, incorporating a musical
landscape that is substantially darker and richly diverse.
Thematically, Banks continues to dissect the origins
of her unsuccessful relationships in the distinctive manner we have grown to
expect. More prominent this time around, however, is a newfound self-assurance
and unbending confidence in her lyricism, which is notably more confrontational
and unfiltered. The formula is flipped on The Altar, as Banks’ transitions into
a role of strength unseen in previous releases. “I think you need a weaker girl”
she croons on Weaker Girl, a track which infuses 80s electro-funk beats with an
orchestral backing, taunting her lover that he no longer meets her standards, “I’ma
need a bad motherfucker like me”. The robotic Gemini Feed, a SOHN-produced
metaphorical middle finger, is even more vicious, as she berates the
emotionally manipulative tendencies of her ex-partner, “If you would’ve let me
grow, you could’ve kept my love”. Tracks like Fuck With Myself, the sultry lead
single for the record, ooze self-empowerment, as the songstress unapologetically
affirms “I fuck with myself more than anybody else” over a witch-pop production.
The record’s formidable lyricism is complimented
by the immediacy of its lavish production, which includes offerings from
Goddess alumni Tim Anderson and Chris Taylor. The urban Trainwreck boasts an exhilaratingly
swaggering pace, as Banks spews rage, with an almost rap-like delivery. The Altar
is packed with tracks that indulge in their own sonic atmospheres, from the haunting
pre-chorus of electro-alternative Poltergeist, to the theatrical 27 Hours,
which contains a build-up of soft piano strokes that leads to a rush of
bombastic synths over which the songstress belts “I killed everything we were,
baby murder was a case”. Elsewhere, Judas, described by the singer as “jagged
black and blue song”, is a fascinating detour, infusing hip-hop elements with
light strings and backing vocals, while This Is Not About Us is one of the
catchiest, commercial and immediately accessible tracks that Banks has released
to date thanks to its up-tempo electro-infused production.
Banks finds herself at her most introspective
on the record’s quieter moments. The alt-pop ballad, To The Hilt, finds her reminiscing
about the man she used to be with before her fame with her signature poignant vocal
delivery, “now I’m drained creatively, I miss you on my team”. Mother Earth is stripped
back and deeply spiritual, as the songstress explores the depression she faced
when she was younger, while the brooding Mind Games contains some of Banks’
finest lyricism.
From
start to finish, The Altar, with its mix of tight white-knuckle electro-pop and
scorching slow-burning passages, is a refreshingly unapologetic and passionate
record that demonstrates Banks growth both artistically and personally. With a new
found confidence, Banks has fully immersed herself in her ominous R&B aesthetic,
and the end result is one of this year’s most compelling and convincing offerings.
10/10