Fountain Baby – Amaarae
Audacious.
That’s the first word I would use to describe Amaarae.
It takes a certain level of audacity to market a sexually-charged body of work with imagery and quotes directly inspired by the Christian faith knowing that a significant amount of backlash would be coming your way. From seeing this marketing route, I knew we would be in for a ride, and oh what a ride it was.
For the avid supporters of Amaarae, a silent agreement is entered with the artist that ensures that with each album, a reacquaintance with her artistry through the most exciting and experimental sounds is anticipated.
With the Ghanaian pop star’s second album “Fountain Baby”, she is confidently establishing her sexuality, self-awareness, and luxuriance over eccentric and innovative instrumentations and melodies.
We step into this particular reintroduction of the stylish and confident artist with the first track “All my love”, an imagination-inducing medley of classical instruments which invites us, with a soft crescendo, into a dimly lit pussy-themed restaurant filled with aptly-curated decor inspired by the vagina.
Amaarae has prepared a well-planned menu of sounds that transport us around the world in a constantly mutating ship of emotions with genres such as Afro-pop, R&B, Techno, Pop, Hip-hop, British punk, and even Japanese folk.
The only instruction I imagine to be given at the door of this album is to wash your feet at the pussy-shaped fountain seen at the entrance of the room because you’re standing on musically defiled ground and will be born anew through the sounds you hear.
Throughout the courses [tracks] of this album, we enter the psyche of an Amaarae who knows a life of luxury and wealth and is also aware of the dark side of that knowledge. She sings to the rich bitches and the gold-diggers; a true woman of the people.
The first course we’re served is “Angels in Tibet”; a reminder that Amaarae has never shied away from her sexuality, womanhood, international influences, and yet pure-bred African-ness.
Her audacity to tap into the pleasure of loving a woman while also being a woman; a forbidden concept in most modern African cultures, has always pulled me towards her music.
Angels in Tibet gives us a peek into a daringly confident Ama who sings about fucking a puddle [pussy] and taking charge of her needs in such striking melodies and over traditionally African instruments and musical arrangements.
How dare you say these things over a talking drum?
I’m obsessed and equally flabbergasted because this sort of representation for the lesbian/bisexual African community is so rare, it’s basically non-existent. This song feels like a night of seducing a stranger at the club and ending the night fucking them as passionately as you would a 10-year love affair.
Co-star is a secret room in the Fountain Baby restaurant dedicated to an orgy of the signs. You open the door into a whole new entire universe and you are drawn in with the question “Baby, what’s your sign?”
Just as a side note, Amaarae has stated in an Instagram live following the drop of this single that she has beef with Virgos, as a Virgo myself, I protest fervently on our behalf and would like to state that we are indeed the cream of the crop, perfectionism, and logic be damned.
I can’t overstate the beauty that is this anthem for the astrology community. The wordplay merges the well-known characteristics of these signs with a sensual and body-thumping energy, felt primarily through the log drums, that envelopes and carries us floating around in the air.
Let’s step out from the actual universe into the digital universe with “Princess Going Digital”. I love when Amaarae reminds us that she doesn’t talk in the uniquely textured soprano she’s known to vocalize in because her voice flaunts an impressive blend of masculine and feminine energies that encapsulates the feeling of being bisexual.
I’m intrigued as to why this song is called Princess Going Digital because I would assume that meant she was now looking for love online and not “in the streets” anymore but on multiple listens, I’m not firmly holding on to this idea. It could also mean she’s found the one and no longer feels the need to be a part of the regular world but wouldn’t that mean she’s going “offline” and not digital?
Whatever it means [or doesn’t mean], this is a beautiful and honestly, chaotic way of stating that bad girls need love too.
People tend to think that having money and fame excludes you from craving love as well. I’ve always thought about how much harder it must be to find genuine love once you reach a certain level of popularity and how much easier it is to have a hundred hoes than the one because you “can’t find nobody that can manage”.
Maesu’s additional vocals add a ’90s hip-hop flair to this track that makes it feel like an old lover’s conversation we just happen to be listening in on.
The layers to the instrumentation on this album are so incredibly intricate. The merging of the diverse elements and genres tapped into is done so well; every instrument heard is a theme of its own.
The producing, mixing, and engineering of the entire album is some phenomenal work and from checking the credits, I learned that all the songs on Fountain Baby were worked on by the same people, with a few additions here and there, which makes it mean more to me because it was obviously created by a chosen family of gifted individuals.
It’s interesting to note that throughout Fountain Baby, Amaarae switches between choosing to pay for her lover’s needs and rejecting a love that comes with a price. The middle ground is said lover’s expectations of her and this notion reminds me that when you expect, you might not get.
At first, I had concluded that the repeated “Call me when the money come come come” in “Reckless & Sweet” was Amaarae simply stating that she’s in a place in her life where she’s grinding and establishing but on diving deeper, I’m now considering that she is, in fact, singing in the voice of the woman she’s singing to, who is only interested when money is involved.
She has to protect herself from the leech-like intentions of such people. You listen to it and you’re locked in on the graceful and rippling melodies but this honestly can be revealed to be a sad song once turned inside out.
What a delightful meal with a subtle bittersweet aftertaste.
East Asian cuisine is dished out promptly at the beginning of “Wasted Eyes” through the Japanese instrumentation heard. This is such an experimental body of work; I applaud Amaarae with every album for her artistic mandate to keep breaking out of the metaphorical box many might expect her to play in by exploring the different ways she can mold herself into new sounds.
I would have paid money to be in the studio when Counterfeit was conceptualized and put together; who sat there and said, you know what we should add to this hip-hop track? an African percussion interlude. This is insanity at its finest.
With “Disguise” it’s clear to see Amaarae tapped into the nigga in her so intensely with this album because who starts a song with “I like my coffee with some head in the morning” if not a man at the prime of his toxicity.
She reminds us at every stage that her vocal game is unmatched. She sings passionately in warning to her lover-of-the-moment to not get attached to the lifestyle. Don’t try to rope her in with faux feelings of love because it’s not her you love, it’s the money.
Damn, gold diggers can’t even catch a break.
The first half of Sex, Violence and Suicide is a serenade of love and a declaration of her willingness to die for love rendered through a cloud of hallucinatory drugs. Thinking on influences, It feels, to me, like a song heavily inspired by The Weeknd’s signature r&b sound, and following the theme of this song, which is in line with his earlier work, I feel his energy was in the booth when she recorded this one.
Sometimes we don’t realize that love can encapsulate our entire beings and make us become so weak that we don’t see ourselves without the other. It might seem like a love to aspire to but it’s truly a love to stay away from.
The second half is a head-bumping punk rendition and a 180º turnaround from the soft Amaarae we meet in the first half. She takes that breath and begins to demand love in the way she wants it. She acknowledges the imbalance in love but still holds on. She keeps up this punk theme through the next course “Sociopathic Dance Queen”; a song that allows Amaarae to tap into a diverse and broad audience that can also feel represented through the unabashed exploration of her artistry.
Aquamarie Luvs Ecstasy is a much-needed cool down from the heart-thumping, cardio sessions that were the last two tracks. Amaarae dips her voice box into that afro sound that feels like home to her. The German insertion took me slightly by surprise but not so much because such a merging of cultures is expected from such a culturally aware, interdisciplinary artiste.
Fountain Baby is a bold statement of Amaarae’s flexible artistry and emboldening sexuality. It is a body of work that will keep you locked in till the very last note.
African music is taking center stage globally and Amaarae is writing her name lavishly in the wet concrete. She’s here to stay.