Cynthia Erivo’s I Forgive You album review: Sublime sophistication

On ‘Why (Interlude)’, the opener on Cynthia Erivo’s second studio album, ‘I Forgive You’, an echoey chorus of Cynthias murmur in meditative harmony, as one breaks away to disclose, in remarkably restrained tones: “I may be mad, I may be blind, I may be viciously unkind, but I can still read what you’re thinking…” The music is ethereal, but the words are confronting. It’s thus the perfect prelude to the therapeutic ride to come. The lyrics are also discombobulating because — and it takes a beat for this to register – they’re from Annie Lennox’s masterwork ‘Why’: an ode to heartbreak so overwhelmingly great, the mere thought of it brings this writer to tears. It’s a strikingly bold choice, but Cynthia works lightly enough (the track is a mere 41 seconds) to avoid showboating and effectively communicates the LP’s unapologetically cerebral message straight away: namely, that our love for others sometimes has to die – hell, our love for ourselves sometimes has to die – in order for it to be reborn through forgiveness. That’s this reviewer’s armchair analysis, anyway.

To be clear, even in the album’s darkest moments (“It’s been so long since I knew what it was/To be held in the arms of a human that was warm and kind/You were so unkind,” she sings on ‘Worst of Me’) the heaviness is often offset by rich, soul-stirring orchestration and Cynthia’s unbeatably uplifting voice, which this writer was first bowled over by in 2018 and the criminally under-seen Bad Times at the El Royale movie. Even at her most bombastic, she wisely eschews the staginess of the Wicked soundtrack, instead impressing with the quality of her voice rather than volume. She sounds powerful, yes, but also soft, expressive, technically brilliant. There are big moments, vocally: on ‘More Than Twice’ (“you’ve been trampling, stepping right over me I’ve been letting it happen continuously”) the vocal bleeds into a spiritual glossolalia of self-empowerment unrestrained by language; elsewhere, operatic deliveries and gospel choirs abound. If this sounds extra AF, that’s because it is; it’s an illustration of her range. On ‘Push and Pull’, she changes the vibe entirely, conversing with irresistible rhythm and reminding the listener: this Hollywood-conquering Oscar nominee is a Londoner at heart!

Grounding the album is a reverence for traditional instrumentation – there’s a lot of piano – heard with crystal clear clarity, such as on the warm strings of ‘You First’ and the tense flickers of a harp on ‘Best for Me’. Many of these songs excavate the wreckage of broken relationships for elemental truths; on the latter, Cynthia takes an empowered, self-aware position, declaring: “I’m guilty but I’m not ashamed (Oh, no)/For needin’ one of us to take the blame;” soothing wounds of conscience while disentangling complex emotions. As grandiose percussion adds drama, a lone whistle adds an off-kilter, jovial playfulness, suggesting despite “not saying I never loved you with all of me,” the speaker is at peace with her decision. “It’s still a Tuesday,” she points out. Life must go on.

And so it does on the light, bouncy ‘She Said’, as the narrator meets a lover who never stops talking (ending the lyrics mid-sentence, Sopranos-style, so we never find out the final thing ‘she’ says, is a vibe), giving away to a clutch of songs destined for the bedroom: the RnB heat of ‘What You Want’ boasts breathtakingly erotic lyrics (“I’ll quench your thirst, just let me pour”) and unfurls at an indulgent, leisurely pace; after that, the electric guitar lick on ‘Play the Woman’ has swathes of stimulating funk. (“If you play the woman for me, I’ll be just what you need.”) It’s fair to say Cynthia approaches even the subject of sex, and later, outright love, with epic seriousness – at times, like a religious fervour – that’s unabashedly her. But these songs still bring thematic and musical contrasts from the aforementioned heaviness. 

Besides, intensity is her hallmark – it’s what makes her such a compelling presence on screen and makes everything she says and does feel vital. “As I stand here in front of you: Black, bald-headed, pierced and queer, I can say I know a thing or two about being the other,” she said on stage at last year’s Los Angeles LGBT Center Gala. This album feels like a sonic manifestation of that statement.

Pushed for something to criticise, I’d say the album’s sheer length. It should really be heard in one sitting, but at 20 songs (several of which are admittedly interludes) that’s easier said than done. But otherwise, sublime sophistication is understating it.