Soon, a verse bemoaning workday routines and embracing impromptu resignations tumbled into punchy rap declarations of “We back outside.” In seconds, they’d rev upward toward high-altitude mode modulations, carrying a gospel choir along for the ride.Ī post shared by Beyoncé this point, the windows were all the way down, the volume was all the way up, and those walking by on Sunset Boulevard were being treated to a listening party too.
Piano-anchored ʼ90s synth chords would follow, caressed by a breathy “la-la” riff that dissipated to introduce the infectious “ You won’t break my soul” mantra. Intent on clocking every detailed nuance of the cut’s production, I sealed my car’s windows, and the opening battle cries of Louisiana MC, Big Freedia exhorting me to release all life’s burdens began boomeranging through my stereo system.
On Monday-having ducked out of dinner with friends early to stream the newest single from her forthcoming album, Renaissance, my listening booth of choice happened to be my compact SUV. My relationship with every song she has recorded is deeply personal and rarely understood by others. I’ve made it a rule to listen to any new Beyoncé music in complete isolation.
