Sundial – Noname ★★★★

Year	Album	Artist	Stars	Score	Genre
2023	Sundial	Noname	★★★★	82	Hip-Hop

A lot had changed in the five years since Noname’s last record, 2018’s Room 25. The world’s become more divided and conflicted. There was a worldwide pandemic and a presidential election. There were protests about race and women’s rights. People are quicker to attack others for their faults, more cynical about decision making and their situations.  

On Sundial, you can tell Noname has also evolved in those five years. What started as a young, charming poet talking over coffee-shop beats has grown into a full-fledged hip-hop performer, never holding back and constantly re-evaluating herself and those around her. 

Noname talks more bluntly about politics, relationships, rap cliches and music industry pressures, and the technical aspects of her wordplay and delivery have never been better. Now in her 30s, Noname’s voice sounds more adult compared to the soft-spoken persona she sometimes had in her early 20s. It’s more in front of the instrumental mix, more clear, more present. 

The different feature artists on the record all bring a different sound and energy to the album as well, adding new textures that complement Noname’s always reliable performance. Ayoni has a spirited, show stopping verse to open “boomboom.” Jay Electronica is still an overwhelming presence when he shows up on a song, and really fills the room on “balloons.” Billy Woods and Common represent conscious rappers really well on the final two tracks (the latter being one of Common’s best showings in years). 

Compared to the folks she had featured previously on Telefone and Room 25 — who felt like they fit her aesthetic perfectly but also didn’t add too much variety in sound and style — the new, more dominating voices take the record up a level.  

The production has taken a small step up as well. The songs still rely heavily on soul harmonies and jazz techniques, but feel more luxurious or grand than chill and DIY. You lose some of the quaintness that drew us to Noname to begin with, for sure, but the end result is an album that’s a bit more dynamic, a bit more conventional sounding in a traditional hip-hop sense and every bit as captivating. 

When I wrote about Noname’s debut in 2016, I compared her to Chance the Rapper, who had just experienced his mainstream breakthrough, Coloring Book. Both were mixtape rappers from Chicago. Both had worked with each other in the past. Both had a happy delivery, keyed in on nostalgic story telling, and used soul and gospel influenced production. But while Chance was finally enjoying time in the spotlight with his big-name guest features and grand presentation, Noname was championing the underground and understated. 

Chance The Rapper’s popularity pretty quickly faded after that, in part, I hypothesize, because the more cynical outlook his fans developed during the Trump presidency made them less enamored with his happy-go-lucky attitude. 

However, even though Noname now has a bit more of that firepower that propelled Chance originally, she has always had a different level of seriousness to her. Even if the music was upbeat, she knew the realities people were facing, and it allowed her to maintain her status even through the long, 5-year gap between full projects.

Among the crowd of newer artists with a similar approach who have gotten more prominent in recent years — whether that be Little Simz on the hip-hop side, or someone like Arlo Parks on the more laid back, indie R&B scene — Noname feels right at home, and is as relevant as ever.