Lilianna Kelly

Contributing Writer

Daniel Caesar’s “Son of Spergy” was released on October 24, and is arguably his most candid project to date. It seems half-plea, half-performance, like a prayer whispered through clenched teeth.

Heavily inspired by his father Norwill Simmons, also known as “Spergy,” this album explores feelings of faith, grief, love, family legacy and the reconciliation of self.

The album’s opening track begins almost as if we’ve walked into a rehearsal. “Rain Down (Feat. Sampha)” begins with a calm hymn, Caesar and Sampha sharing a litany- “Lord, let Your blessings rain down/Lord, let Your blessings rain down on me.” As the track continues, it becomes almost a cry for help, Caesar singing “your blood is all I need” as if he is convincing himself rather than simply praying. “Rain Down (Feat. Sampha),” though beautiful and powerful, holds an undeniable desire to be seen.

In Caesar’s “Have a Baby (With Me),” we can clearly sense his longing for familial legacy. Containing a sample of Reggae artist Sizzla’s “Woman, I Need You,” this track does not beg for romance, but rather bargains for legacy. The verses admit that the partner he discusses has “already left” and that years of waiting have made her restless. Caesar sings “have a baby with me” again and again because, in realizing that his relationship is coming to a close, he believes leaving “something here” is the only dream left.

This urgency to build a family may be in part due to Caesar turning 30- “I think it’s finally ‘bout that time, a n-a nearly 30/Find some soil to plant a seed/Lord, find me someone worthy.”

A similar exhaustion is found in “Call On Me” as Caesar nearly begs to be a provider, offering to come to her when her “pockets [are] empty.” His need for purpose only becomes louder as the chorus returns to the question “What have you left for me to do?”

Despite Caesar’s talk of faith, he does not pretend to be righteous. In “Root Of All Evil” he makes an attempt at disciplining himself, asking, almost naively, “What have I done? What should I do?/Forces of evil pull me away from you.” He continues on to sing “Am I a man or a beast? … Somebody please, discipline me.” The artist knows that he should stay away from temptation, yet he is “too drawn to evil.”

This feeling of ineptitude and timidity continues as the album’s next track, “Who Knows,” confesses Caesar’s feelings of being a coward that hides behind generosity. He refers to himself as an “incompetent steward of all that sweet, sweet power.” These tracks feel less like polished, thought-out lyrics, and more like diary entries set to a melody.

Some of the most beautiful moments of this album comes from collaborators magnifying Caesar’s ambivalence. In “Moon,” Bon Iver’s harmonies seem to turn the track from yet another song about unrequited love to a conversation with a conscience. Caesar admits that he is not who he wants to be “at the moment, maybe soon” and wonders who will “be my Jesus.” This track descends into rampage, with him noting that “man is but a pile of dust.”

Yebba and Blood Orange come together as an almost desperate choir in the album’s next track, “Touching God,” where Caesar grieves that there is a God “withholding His help.” They continue on, singing “I know You made me, but I hate myself” and other feelings of being unheard and unseen. As the trio sings of this, they slide into the Lord’s Prayer- “Thy kingdom come… Thy will be done”- without warning. The sudden prayer sounds like a genuine attempt at reaching to touch something beyond them, something even greater than their own faith.

This album is a very fine line between control and confession. “Sign of the Times” begins with the youthful hope of kissing someone, then jarringly shifts to flashbacks of a near-fatal car accident and survivor’s guilt. Caesar recalls his friend’s Tesla going up in flames, and credits God for getting him out in time. This juxtaposition of romance, providence and tragedy is as harsh as it is honest.

“Emily’s Song,” however, acts as a thank-you letter to an ex. Caesar sings of “Fussing and fighting, f-cking and lying/Nights in Miami, tears at the Grammy’s” and further says “I just wanna thank you/For being my mirror/Showing me myself.” The artist acknowledges the imperfect aspects of this relationship, whilst also showing recognition towards his ex-partner. This is one of the few tracks where gratitude outweighs his self-loathing.

The album’s back half suddenly shifts from confession to confrontation with “No More Loving (On Women I Don’t Love),” a declaration of celibacy. Caesar expresses that he is done with meaningless relationships, lashing out on “power-tripping” men who “lie on God above.” The hook of this track paraphrases Psalm 23- “Although I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” However, his delivery of this prayer is filled with grit, sounding more like a battlecry than an expression of faith.

“Sins of the Father” takes that anger inward. He sings of carrying the weight his parents placed on him, and thanks a heavenly father whose love exceeds his earthly one. In the chorus, Caesar admits “I’ve got all this hate in my heart/But I got no place to put it” and begs for “alchemical transmutation,” as if turning his pain into something meaningful were a matter of chemistry. The artist even admits to forgetting his own child’s birthday and dismisses it with a shrug.

Ultimately, this album is so profound because Caesar does not pretend his faith is fully formed. He curses, he doubts, and he even resents his faith at times, yet he allows us to overhear all of it. It is deeply personal, a conversational pulse- one weary believer talking to another about why he keeps trying.

It’s difficult to imagine the tracks of this album dominating the radio the way “Best Part” once did, but that may not be the point. This album was not created for pop success, it was written by a man searching for a way to believe in himself again.