Aja Monet deepens her emotional insights on The Color of Rain

It is the act that leads to liberating groups of people from harmful mentalities. Emphasising the need to find kinship with the community, and then allow that newfound connection to push people to finally fight as one. Participation in activism gives way towards a hopeful future, and possibilities that soothe not just the individual, but also the environment around them.

With her long years of engaging in black revolutionary activism through the field of spoken word poetry, this overall message is what Aja Monet imparts through her voice. Her poised delivery and harmonious flow across strains of jazz, r&b, and soul on her debut album, when the poems do what they do paints the scenes that unfold into the depths of what it means to find love and use it as a strengthening force. For her, it’s acknowledging her black roots and reflecting upon the harsh truths tied to complicated history. An embrace of her vivid culture that allows her to progress onwards.

Once she planted those seeds back in 2023, she let them blossom upon The Color of Rain. Her sophomore offering swims into deeper depths, where Aja Monet’s mellifluous poise presents an evolution of her sonic and emotional presentations. She’s willing to take experimentation, imparting dense and surreal poetry to delve into the struggles that matter today.

Putting more ambition also means more risk taken, yet Monet and her collaborators go through it with confidence. Take “hollyweird” as a fantastic example. Monet places herself within buzzy, punchier tones that intensify her pointed confrontation with how Hollywood skirts their message around global issues that are never taken too seriously. They mention them with glances, yet are never willing to look into the full picture.

Along the way, Monet digs deep into the spatial and temporal facets that reveal heightened insights. “Melting clocks” with Mick Jenkins and Vic Mensa reflects on time as something we can control once we ignore its limitations. The brighter melodies of “workin class musicians” focus on overworked musicians whose artistic labour couldn’t meet their financial needs, while political strains are stuck arguing about money rather than livelihood. The rattling rhythms of “for the congo” embark upon the violent events that continuously affect Congo, with Monet repeatedly shouting “Tell them to talk about the blood” as a call to action not just towards organisations, but also to everyone else. It’s not enough to witness the news on the screens, as eventually, putting your voice out there becomes the next step.

Of course, all of this external conflict is mirrored by introspective warmth, a balancing act that reinforces Aja Monet’s purview towards communal love. The hazy soundscapes of “withness” speak about finding connection in strangers who desire one, even amidst living in a country that’s fueled by turmoil (“America is a spell / a hex or hell”).

“To sister” and “love is a choosing” are meditative as it is profound in their messaging. The former’s lilting harp and cooing by Brandee Younger and Gaanayva articulate the timeless bonds with women who continue to expose their tender hearts despite the weight that they carry. This attitude carries over to the latter song with its glossy tones and Mereba’s gentle singing, where Monet tells that love is a naturally active presence. Always choosing the small, yet significant details that build up our entire life.

Between those two sides are the cracks that linger: the uncomfortable self-questioning that may lead people to stumble in their values. Monet is self-aware enough to acknowledge the contradictions that live inside everyone, including her own. On the distorted beats of “song of myself”, she ponders upon her position as a poet and activist, specific roles that can be even more pressuring when one trips up, or steps on platforms that could commodify her poetry.

This gets elaborated further upon the penultimate track, “every media minute”. The gradual jazz swells become a spotlight for Monet to contemplate. Here, she processes how the act of love and protest eventually gets turned into a chore, converting passion into capitalist commodification that leads everyone to loathe. Yet, she finds some meaning in going through that space, if that means being able to spread her message further while yearning for a God that rebukes against the American norm. She puts it well in this remarkable line: “There’s a whole lot of religion / And not enough God.”

Overall, Aja Monet’s enriching spoken word continues to elaborate in The Color of Rain. She’s stronger as she is pensive. Continuing her efforts as an activist who pursues the importance of building community and furnishing love amidst the unjust sociopolitical strife happening right now. Her words evoke the presence of rain itself: strong enough to change the tides, and gentle enough to relieve weary spirits.