ZaynDecember is not the time of year for pop, or R&B, stars to release event albums. In fact, forget late November, too. Unless an act's label has sent advance streams to international media, they miss out on making 'Best of the Year' lists, reviews and op-eds. Presumably, at the end of the year's fourth quarter, everyone is listening to holiday music.
Zayn Malik, the lowkey former One Directioner now signed to the Sony-affiliated RCA Records, couldn't have presented his long-delayed sophomore, Icarus Falls, on a less ideal date than 14 December (after being publicised a fortnight prior). As such, he's been afforded minimal music press coverage – already a problem for the media-wary 25-year-old. The album hasn't blitzed the charts, either, not even breaking the Top 50 in the UK, US or here. Nonetheless, the maximalist Icarus Falls stands with any opus from Miguel, Frank Ocean or The Weeknd. It might be a subliminal FutureSex/LoveSounds. So how come peepz are sleeping on Zayn?
These days, major label marketing is generally remote and laissez-faire. In the streaming era, albums can be issued at any time – the promotion crowdsourced to Twitter users, perhaps with a custom emoji, as Canadian Alessia Cara had for her soph, The Pains Of Growing, on Def Jam. Artists often don't grant many interviews. Malik, a fashion fave, became the first male to grace the cover of British Vogue in November. But, beyond that, he's conducted negligible music media for Icarus Falls.
After five years, Malik quit One Direction in early 2015, citing stress and a quest for privacy – his romance with Little Mix's Perrie Edwards feverishly tracked by tabloids. He subsequently detailed how pressure impacted his mental health in Zayn: The Official Autobiography. As Malik relaunched his career, he spoke of One Direction's creative limitations. He soon re-positioned himself as an R&B auteur under the mononym 'Zayn'. However, Malik was never going to be a flamboyant soloist like NSYNC's Justin Timberlake.
Music critics frequently complain that urban releases are too long – yes, petty af. In 2018, players like Kanye West have embraced the micro-album. The obvious exception is Drake, his Scorpion a double-set. Malik is similarly extra with Icarus Falls, having catalogued an overabundance of material (Mind Of Mine clocked in at 45 minutes). The literary Malik also follows that art-rapper Travis Scott by introducing a lofty – and allegorical – concept, apparently identifying with Icarus, the tragic figure from Greek mythology. Harnessed with wings constructed from feathers and wax, Icarus didn't heed his father's warning not to fly too close to the sun. The wax melted and he fell into the sea, drowning. Icarus Falls is divided in two: Icarus capturing the euphoria and Falls a sense of relatable profligacy and struggle.
Icarus Falls is expansive. This is a collection for those R&B heads who dig Brandy's deep cuts. Malik has reunited with Malay. But many of the highlights, such as the hooky All That, are produced by awesome newcomers Saltwives. The Icarus Falls aesthetic is primarily atmospheric avant 'n' B, modish quiet storm, and spare slow jams. No longer image-conscious, Malik hones in lyrically on the gritty cycles of adult relationships. Some songs allude to his psychic welfare. Falls is more sonically adventurous while revealing darker themes.
As exemplified by the opener, Let Me, Icarus Falls occasionally has the ghostly throwback feel of Toronto's Daniel Caesar. Malik delves into indie-soul with numbers like the Saltwives-helmed Back To Life. He liaised with Malay for the tuneful Stand Still, elevated by spectral guitar. Mind, Icarus Falls has 'big' stadium songs: There You Are, a recent promotional single, is Malik channelling U2 (kinda). But, especially on Falls, he traverses funk and tougher genres. It begins with Good Guy, which has Malik riffing over a sample of Nancy Sinatra's take on Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down). He lets rip vocally on Sour Diesel, funk-rock guided by Malay that evokes Lenny Kravitz, Miguel and... John Mayer. In November, Malik aired No Candle No Light, featuring Nicki Minaj, as the last single. An EDM banger, it's the one track that sounds calculated (and Justin Bieber-y). The set closes with the Timbaland-stamped dance Too Much.
Overall, the soul-popster enthrals with his supple vocals, melodicism, and innovative production. The album's tone is confessional, cerebral and sensuous. Malik's cleverest lyrics are on the underrated Entertainer – plaintive rather than bitter. Good Years, a piano hyper-ballad, evidently chronicles his One Direction phase – although it isn't necessarily recriminatory. Malik sings, "Too much drugs and alcohol/What the hell were we fighting for?/'Cause now the whole damn world will know/That we're too numb and just too dumb to change the story/Neither one, one of us, wants to say we're sorry." The zenith of Icarus Falls is Flight Of The Stars – an epic, aerial beat ballad with a trap bassline. Ironically, the album doesn't encompass Dusk Til Dawn. Icarus Falls has garnered positive reviews – Pitchfork, traditionally opportunistic when it comes to R&B, rating it 6.4 (an upgrade on Mind Of Mine's 5.9).
Alas, gossip outlets are circulating mean pieces on how Malik's album has 'flopped'. In contrast, the Internet – and Malik's Zquad – have been dissecting the promotional strategy. Conceivably, had Malik, or RCA, delivered Icarus Falls earlier, they'd have capitalised on the massive Dusk Til Dawn. Many have theorised that Malik's introversion and ambivalence towards fame and media scrutiny is a liability. Some suggest that the star isn't sufficiently interactive on his socials (though he uploaded covers of songs like Beyonce's Me, Myself And I).
Still, other R&B artists successfully court cult, not celebrity, status. In 2018 Frank Ocean is as reclusive as ever. The Weeknd was mostly anonymous until Starboy. HER (Gabi Wilson), also signed to RCA, is likewise elusive, trading on a cultivated mystique. And, while the Californian's self-titled compilation seemingly charted modestly in the US, she's received multiple Grammy nominations – including the coveted Album Of The Year.
Then there's the mysterious example of CHLOE X HALLE, the gifted Atlantan sisters aligned with Beyonce's boutique label Parkwood Entertainment. The softly-promoted pair barely charted with their debut, The Kids Are Alright, in March – despite Warrior being prestigiously synced for Ava DuVernay's A Wrinkle In Time OST. But, having achieved incremental industry credibility, they're now up for 2019's Best New Artist Grammy (alongside HER). CHLOE X HALLE may be beneficiaries of subcultural word-of-mouth discovery over virality and algorithms. (Incidentally, they recorded with Malay.)
Malik has stated that he doesn't aspire to have blockbuster albums. In his first post-One Direction interview with The Fader, he explained, "A big part of why I left the band is I made the realisation that it wasn't actually about [being the biggest] anymore. It wasn't about the amount of ticket sales that I get. It was more about the people that I reach. I want to reach them in the right way, and I want them to believe what I'm saying. I've done enough in terms of financial backing for me to live comfortably. I just want to make music now. If people want to listen to that, then I'm happy. If they don't want to listen to it, then don't fucking listen to it. I'm cool with that too. I've got enough. I don't need you to buy it on a mass scale for me to feel satisfied".





