Ricky Reed, the producer behind Lizzo’s “Truth Hurts” as well as hits by Jason Derulo and Fifth Harmony, offers a solo debut made via livestream and defined by a hazy, late-night melancholy.
Ricky Reed, the producer behind Lizzo’s “Truth Hurts,” describes the song’s ascent as the biggest thing that’s ever happened to him. Lizzo brings a singular charisma to the song, an ability to make you feel like the main character when you listen to it. There’s a reason it’s been plastered on countless post-breakup Instagram posts and drunkenly belted at every karaoke night. When discussing the process behind creating the song, his response was more visceral than technical: “My natural inclination on this song, or any song, is gonna be to have the bass knock.” That unbridled exuberance is what makes so many of the other songs he’s produced, from Jason Derulo’s “Dirty Talk” to Fifth Harmony’s “Bo$$,” so undeniably fun.
But despite the success of the countless pop hits he produced or co-written, he hadn’t released much of his own music, except for a few singles, until The Room. His debut album features an array of rising artists like duendita and Lido Pimienta, as well as pop-soul acts like Leon Bridges and A-list indie bands like Dirty Projectors. It sets an entirely different pace and tone from his earlier work, one that is much more exploratory and subdued. These are songs for soundtracking solitary, balmy night drives, not for kitchen dance parties with your friends.
The album promotion leans heavily on the narrative surrounding its creation. Most of these songs were written live during his NICE LIVE! YouTube sessions, which Reed saw as a way of staying connected with friends and collaborators during the pandemic. When “Real Magic,” the album’s first single, brought Reed to tears in the middle of the livestream, he felt he had to turn these ephemeral moments into a more permanent project. Certainly, there’s an improvisational looseness to this album compared to the pristine sheen of the pop music he has worked on. But beyond that, none of the backstory that Reed relays is evident in the music.
Generally, there’s a vagueness to The Room, a hazy melancholy that ties the project together without much lyrical cohesion. It’s hard to parse what this album is about beyond the narrative surrounding its creation. Ultimately, most of the songs on The Room just aren’t that affecting, which is disappointing given the star power here. “Real Magic” might have brought Reed to tears, but the rest of us remain unmoved. The lyrics are unobjectionable, if a little saccharine. But as a whole, it doesn’t showcase St. Panther’s frenetic flow as a rapper or her skill as a vocalist the way her own tracks like “Infrastructure” or “Playa” do. The hi-hats are distracting, and the vocal distortion and watery synth subdue her usual vibrancy. And it’s a disappointment to hear duendita’s tremendous voice largely buried in the mix on “Us (How Sweet It Was).”
Elsewhere, the lyrics can be painfully corny. “Fav Boy”’s refrain of “I want to be your favorite boy/I want to be your favorite toy” has the all-too-familiar syntax of Tinder messages from men who are “just looking for someone to go on adventures with.” Especially following a heavy verse about feeling apathy at a relative’s funeral, the line feels like a bizarre non-sequitur. Godfather666’s laments on “No Future,” which address loneliness in the most direct terms, are similarly unrelatable. It’s hard to feel too much sympathy for someone singing, “Who could ever love me?/I’m only nice when I want something.”
There are a few shining moments here, though. “Catch You” lacks the complex instrumentation—brass and electronic flourishes, rich orchestration—that brought Lido Pimienta’s latest album, Miss Colombia, to life. Still, the flute winds beautifully around her gossamer falsetto. The elusive lyricism—“Wait for me/I’ll be with you though/Trust/And the leaves will fall”—is some of the most evocative on the album. “We’ll Be Home Soon,” which quivers like a serpentwithfeet track, is beguiling too. You’re left wondering what the song could have evolved into if it lasted longer than 40 seconds.
As a means of community building, and as a document of Ricky Reed exploring a new sound, The Room is impressive. It’s nice to see him slow down and reach out. But as a project that stands on its own, there’s not much to keep you coming back. In the dreary, hot days of a lonely COVID summer, these watery songs seem to dissipate into the air. It’s hard not to miss the heartbeat of a knocking bass line.
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