Everyone dies. We don't have to like the fact, but we can't really avoid it either. The best we can do is cope. Live with what we have and what we're going to become. Personally, I cope by turning to music, and fortunately for me, in recent music history, there have been a number of albums that have notably served as companion pieces to process grief. "808s and Heartbreak" by Kanye West is a bleak stylistic downplay that mirrors the total psychological disruption that came with the death of his mother, Donda West. Sufjan Stevens's "Carrie and Lowell" is a heart-rending, delicate folk reverie that is equal parts nostalgic reflection and bitter resentment of missed opportunities. Just last year, Phil Elverum, known by his stage name Mount Eerie, released "A Crow Looked At Me", a recounting of his wife's death that is so raw and unprocessed that one can't help but just sit in silence, hyperaware of how precious and tenuous it all is.
In February of 2017, Walter Long, Jr. (also known as John Walt), a rapper from Chicago, was fatally stabbed. In April of 2018, Chicago hip-hop artist Saba, Walt's cousin and close friend, released his second studio album, "CARE FOR ME". It only took a week for me to realize that this album was another great contribution to this somber gallery. But this album isn't just an extension of these grieving themes, because Saba doesn't just make an album of sad songs. No, this album counterbalances the grief with energy, fighting death with lively delivery and gorgeous instrumentation. And despite this outlay of extreme emotions, sorrow, and enthusiasm, the core of this album is an apathetic, nihilistic, confused attitude. In a word—detachment.
One of the great triumphs that Saba achieves in this project is his honest portrayal of how he compartmentalizes grief as a means to suppress it. It's meaningful because it feels so genuine. Walt's death bleeds out into every single aspect of Saba's day-to-day life until it's unavoidable. The album opens with "BUSY/SIRENS", a double track where Saba confesses that he feels like everything and nothing is happening all at once, as he paradoxically points out that he barely meets or contacts people and seamlessly transitions into the refrain, "I'm having a busy day, I'll hit you back right away". He blames the world for not reaching out to him while also expressing his insecurities about reaching out to the world.
But just as he seems to accept his own part in his insecurities, the second part of the track further muddles up the accountability by detailing how Saba is victimized by the world around him as a young black man. It may seem like an irrelevant aside at first, but it plays perfectly into the narrative. Faced with the meaningless killing of his cousin, Saba is assessing what his life is really worth, thinking about the vicious sirens (a synecdochal representation for police and law enforcement) that want to tear him down because of his ethnicity.
But it's more complex than that because the sirens could also be a symbol for the ambulances that came to save his cousin. So ultimately, Saba relies on the sirens just as much as he distrusts them. The two separate purposes are clear, but the overall meaning of the symbol is lost, and in a state of tired resignation, Saba chooses to back away. This is the beginning of his emotional detachment as a consequence of losing Walt.
The ensuing tracks extend his apathetic unfeeling sentiments to different parts of his world. "BROKEN GIRLS" details rising pressures with his relationships; "LIFE" is an intense thesis statement about how life seems like an eternal uphill struggle, while simultaneously being entirely fragile and transient; "CALLIGRAPHY" shows Saba using his artistry and writing as a means of escapism.
The core of this album comes through the two tracks "FIGHTER" and "SMILE". The former, in essence, portrays Saba's growing weakness as more and more punch-ups and conflicts beat him onto the ropes, interspersed with his refrain of "I don't wanna fight no more, 'cause I'm not a fighter". This continues until, without an ounce of fight left in him, Saba admits that the real struggle is within himself and his mindset. With this, he returns to his roots and nostalgically looks back on how through adversity, he was always taught to keep his head up and smile. Thus begins his changed outlook as he starts to effect internal change and try to live more authentically.
This takes us right into "LOGOUT", featuring a great Chance the Rapper guest verse, a track which rails on social media and the conflict of putting up a front regardless of true emotional insecurity. This track then bridges into "GREY", a song where Saba tackles his doubts about authenticity in the music industry head-on. He is fully aware of the art he wants to make and the art that he wants people to know, but in order to make a name for himself, he laments that he has to sacrifice part of his integrity and his vision to fit a box, which he astutely describes as turning everything grey, draining the world of variety and color.
As the instrumental fades out, a jazzy free-form jam kicks in, and Saba blasts into rapid-fire spoken word lambasting the machine that made him and that perpetuates him, the machine that he wants to escape. In this musical and tonal shift, the album's tensions come to a head and Saba is more in touch with himself and his priorities than ever before. He is then ready to dive into the tale of John Walt in the song "PROM/KING", a storytelling exercise that is so poignant and well-executed that you just have to listen to it yourself.
The album's closing track, "HEAVEN ALL AROUND ME", follows. It starts with Walt looking around, confused as to why nobody can hear him or see him. He begins to piece together his surroundings, the paramedics, the news cameras, a chalk outline in the shape of his shadow and realizes that he is departed. With this acceptance, he rises into heaven, but the refrain "There's heaven all around me" could apply to Saba as well here. Walt is the one literally going to heaven, but Saba is learning to accept that despite the physical loss of his cousin, his spirit exists within and around him.
Saba's journey comes to its conclusion, as he comes to terms with the tragedy that has shaken him and taken all of his energy. But still he stands, stronger than ever. Mourning is a tough road, it's not like loss can just happen and the next day everything returns to normal. Grief tends to compound everyday issues and magnify smaller insecurities until they become almost unbearable. In Saba's "CARE FOR ME", this tough road is better established than in any other album I've ever listened to. The deeply personal journey that Saba undergoes is his own, but it also reflects many of our experiences.
This is an album of healing, and it takes us through the pain, detachment, and battle of that healing in a totally immersive fashion. It reminds you of how uncompromisingly bleak the world can seem when you lose someone you love, but Saba also reveals that the best way to defeat self-doubt is to get in touch with who you really are. Because there's only one person who can pull you back from the brink. And face-to-face, you have to tell yourself, "CARE FOR ME".
