Solange and the Craft of the Mini-Song
Solange Knowles’ last two albums, When I Get Home and A Seat at the Table, have garnered overwhelming critical acclaim and widespread adoration largely as works best consumed in full. Often, albums that put the “long” in “long-playing record” feature a standout track or three surrounded by filler. Solange’s music is unique, however, in that even the most bite-sized of tracks are beautiful both as particles and parts of even greater waves.
Solange’s records are peppered with mini-songs, all under two minutes, and among them are some of her most memorable tracks. For context, pop songs are short, but not that short. Right now, only three songs on the Billboard Hot 100 are under two minutes, and one of them is “Baby Shark.”
To understand how Solange encapsulates the beauty of her expansive, meditative music into 120 seconds or fewer, let’s look at the opening tracks of her last two albums, “Things I Imagined” and “Rise.”
Structurally, the two are remarkably similar. Both follow an AAAB song structure — three verses that repeat a central motif to its boiling point, and then a final Coda that delivers a payoff both lyrically and harmonically different. Between the final refrain of the A section and the beginning of the B section, there’s a transition. In “Rise,” this takes the form of a four-second pause, allowing the listener to take in what they’ve just heard and prepare for what’s to come. “Things I Imagined” achieves the same effect with an instrumental refrain of the previous verses, allowing synths to bubble up and burst.
“Things I Imagined” spirals around its titular phrase, shifting keys over cascading chords and percolating synths. Shifting time signatures and accents keep you from getting truly comfortable, and its repetition walks the thin line between hypnosis and semantic satiation. This goes on for 90 seconds until it reaches its climax, rewarding our trust in the song’s elusive groove and ambiguous harmonic direction with its final refrain. Solange finishes the sentence she’s been singing the entire time, triumphantly exclaiming her dependent clause, “taking on the light.” Up, up, and away into the rest of the album.
Whereas “Things I Imagined” feels like being blindfolded, spun around, and sent into a pitch black room only to find yourself somewhere within Solange’s hippocampus, “Rise” focuses on orientation rather than disorientation. It’s an outstretched hand, inviting its listener to crumble — as long as they wake up, rise, and pull up a chair thereafter. Amid a landscape of made-for-streaming albums that put the “L” in “LP,” Solange crafts digital albums that are impeccable from the first byte to the last.
