In June 2018 Kanye West released “Ye,” his eighth studio album and easily the weakest record of his career. Amid the clunky rhymes and slapdash production is a song called “Ghost Town,” which features what may be the record’s only transcendent moment. Following a half-sung verse by Mr. West over a gospel sample, a woman’s voice, both deep and soaring, cuts through the clutter. She wails about putting her hand on a hot stove to remind herself that she still feels something, and then, as the chorus reaches its resolution, she sings of transcending pain. It was the kind of striking guest feature that sends people Googling to see who this unfamiliar vocalist might be.
It was a newcomer, Danielle Balbuena, from North Bergen, N.J., who goes by the alias 070 Shake. Ms. Balbuena signed with Mr. West’s G.O.O.D. Music imprint in 2016 and, besides “Ghost Town,” has contributed to tracks by rappers Nas and Pusha T and pop singer Jessie Reyez. Her 2018 EP, “Glitter,” was solid but didn’t make much of a splash, and this Friday sees the release of “Modus Vivendi” (G.O.O.D. Music/Def Jam), her debut album.
Ms. Balbuena’s voice is the record’s most extraordinary feature, and the production on the album, mostly by Canadian Dave Hamelin (he’s worked with Broken Social Scene and the Tragically Hip) with significant contributions from Mike Dean (Mr. West’s right-hand man in the studio), plays to her strengths. The lush sonic backdrop, infused with strings and gentle drones, conveys an ethereal chamber-music setting altogether unusual for hip-hop and R&B.
“Modus Vivendi” is a song cycle about heartbreak, with songs that tackle desire, loneliness and anger from various angles. Nothing that happens between two people is easy in this world, and our narrator is often paralyzed by self-loathing and jealousy. Ms. Balbuena’s voice, which hovers between singing and rapping, her croons dotted with tricky rhythmic phrases and her rhyming inflected with melody, is well suited to the music’s emotional register, conveying longing and pain where moments of peaceful bliss are few.
The two opening tracks are fragments that suggest an orchestra tuning up, and both are heavy with Ms. Balbuena’s emotive yearning. “Don’t Break the Silence” opens like a sigh, until she enters with “She say she miss me / But she say she also need time.” (Ms. Balbuena dates women, but has said in interviews she prefers not to label her sexuality.) “Come Around” follows with a swell of distorted guitar as she repeats the line “Come around with your love oh baby I’m in need.” And then “Morrow,” the album’s first real song, with verses and an infectious chorus, is about enduring and believing in yourself when someone close to you won’t give you the time of day.
These songs have the rich sheen of contemporary technology, but they also feel grounded. Ms. Balbuena’s singing is often heavily processed and frequently bleeds into the electronic instruments, as if the music has swallowed her, but her off-kilter phrasing is earthy and organic. When she finds her melodic groove, as on the ultra-catchy “Rocketship,” you can imagine her reaching a wide audience. But there’s something private and hermetic about the record, as if it’s meant to be experienced by lonely souls in isolation.
If the production and Ms. Balbuena’s singing and rapping are consistently impressive, the lyrics are undistinguished. A song might make you understand what it’s like to be filled with doubt, but the words never take those feelings further. “You’re gonna know cause it’s destined / You feel it in your intestine” in “Morrow” is a memorable image, but others like it are in short supply. “Microdosing” is a snappy title in search of a song, and “Under the Moon” features the groan-inducing declaration “What happens under the moon / It stays under the moon.” “The Pines” cleverly borrows from the traditional folk song that Lead Belly popularized and Nirvana covered on their “MTV Unplugged” special (they called it “Where Did You Sleep Last Night”), but the haunting conceit of the title and chorus refrain don’t carry over to the rest of the track, despite the energy Ms. Balbuena brings.
While the often inert lyrics may keep “Modus Vivendi” from greatness, it’s still a frequently thrilling album musically. Ms. Balbuena is instantly recognizable even when voicing a single syllable, and she conveys despair with rare intensity. So even if nothing here carries the shock of that first big guest spot, there’s plenty to make us believe that 070 Shake has what it takes to step out on her own.
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