For over a decade now, listening to a Beyoncé album felt like writing a thesis. We were forced to sit through standard-issue surprise drops, dissect hour-long cinematic poetry films, evaluate her brand of corporate feminism, and act like online detectives investigating Jay-Z’s infidelity as if ‘Becky with the good hair’ was a fugitive on the run. But with ‘RENAISSANCE’, the myths took a back seat as Bey maxed out her stats and entered the dance hall once again.
This album is pure club music. It’s a 63-minute non-stop sweatbox dedicated to body heat and escapism. It’s a release that feels like a whole Cathedral for reclaiming dancehall as Black queer art, using co-producers like Honey Dijon, TS Madison, and Kevin Aviance to help build it. It’s rich as hell, decorated with chrome and dripping in diamonds.
The opening, I’M THAT GIRL, within seconds sounds like stepping out of a blacked-out SUV straight into a wall of flashbulbs you definitely have not paid for. Background vocals stutter ‘these motherfuckers aren’t stopping me’, and the sheer arrogance already is so clear. Layered over a gritty, stuttering low-end beat, Bey’s voice is hushed and arrogant: ‘it’s not the diamonds, it’s not the pearls, I’m that girl, it’s just that.’ Clearly, this is a song that isn’t begging for attention but rather already knows the room has stopped breathing for you to listen. The power in this opener is so inherent. It’s a real world-making song.
And in that world, COZY lands with a rubbery, tech-house bounce designed to make even the stiffest people at the bar to get moving. Backed by iconic production, Bey drops a masterclass in supreme self-possession: ‘comfortable in my skin, cozy with who I am, comfortable in my skin’. The production carries this delicious, nocturnal edge, yet the message is pure, unadulterated comfort in your own skin. It’s the exact sound of drunk-gazing into a sticky bathroom mirror at 2am and deluding yourself into thinking you look like a supermodel. She turns self-love into a high-octane club anthem on this one.
Right where the album’s futuristic ego trip completely explodes, ALIEN SUPERSTAR is a galatic spaceship of a song, crashing into fashion week’s runway. Every line here is spoken with venomous elegance, with Bey confidently asserting: ‘I’m one of one, I’m number one, I’m the only one.’ This song has a stiff back and is a bit of a bitch, really. It’s a masterclass in posture, ordering you to step up or get the fuck out. There is so much tension building (‘unique, that’s what you are, stilettos kicking vintage crystal off the bar’) before we get into the chorus, exploding into a wall of glittery electronics: ‘I’m too classy for this world, forever I’m that girl’. It’s extravagant, petty, and legendary. Makes me fear being called out by her though…
Stepping off that planet, CUFF IT is a sun-drenched disco-funk track. Driven by Nile Rodgers’ unmistakable guitar licks, it’s a shameless hit of dopamine that captures that precise Friday night sweet spot: ‘I feel like fallin’ in love, I’m in the mood to fuck somethin’ up’. It’s the ultimate anthem for convincing yourself that 6 tequila shots at pre-drinks are a great idea. That texting your ex is a solid life strategy. It’s not. Her vocal delivery on this one is pure sugar-coated sass, effortlessly gliding into falsetto before joining a chorus of brass and group harmonies: ‘we gon’ fuck up the night, black lights, spaceships fly’. It’s intoxicatingly fun.
Acting as the kinetic bridge, ENERGY packs a real punch. Guest vocals from BEAM give a rugged “ragga” feel that collide with a pulsating, chant-driven beat born out of a sweat-soaked basement. It’s like the aftermath of its predecessor: ‘on stage rocking, I’m stir crazy, coco flow like 1980s’. It really gets us ready for something…
…And that something is the album’s lead single, BREAK MY SOUL. Driven by that classic house synth line and booming ‘yaka’ calls, the placement of this song definitely makes more sense hearing its buildup, with Bey showing signs of corporate exhaustion with ‘I just fell in love, and I just quit my job, I’m gonna find a new drive, damn, they work me so damn hard’. It’s kind of hilarious hearing this come rom her, but I guess we can all go with forgetting our landlord exists every now and then. Is this the song of the summer?
A twerk anthem built on a gospel sample is the exact kind of ridiculous genre mashup only Beyoncé could pull off without being instantly cancelled, and CHURCH GIRL does exactly that. It takes that traditional religious guilt and completely incinerates it on the floor. Beyoncé declares she’s ‘gonna love on me, nobody can judge me but me, I was born free’ as the beat shifts from soulful vocal chops into a heavy, trunk-rattling Southern bounce. She alternates between Sunday-morning soul and late-night trash talk (‘drop it like a thottie, church girls acting loose, bad girls acting snotty’) in a surprising, wildly fun, and celebratory ode to unbothered freedom. Love.
After an relentless assault on your cardio, PLASTIC OFF THE SOFA arrives like a cool coastal breeze. This is Beyoncé at her most effortlessly intimate, delivering a warm neo-soul lullaby that showcases some of the most absurd vocal runs of her career. Towards the outro of this one, Beyoncé’s voice floats, dips, and somersaults over the chords in a stunning breather that casually reminds all of us who the vocalist of our generation is. Title still remains strong.
Transitioning gorgeously up a key shift, VIRGO’S GROOVE is 6 minutes of pure, unadulterated funk euphoria. Shining through, it’s a towering centrepiece that belongs in a ’70s roller-disco rink. Beyoncé here is in full lover-girl mode, delivering a vocal performance spanning from a sultry lower register to dizzying vocal gymnastics in the climax: ‘baby come over, come be alone with me tonight’. The bassline never stops for a breather, every hit feels like clockwork, and I have to give a massive shoutout to the background vocalists on this one, as their presence is so, so essential. You’ll need a sweat towel once you’re finished with this one.
In a sharp change, MOVE makes the album pivot back into raw, global club culture with a track that commands immediate submission. Bringing in the legendary Grace Jones and newer Nigerian star Tems, this trio clears a path through the crowd, shouting ‘move out the way, I’m with my girls and we all hand-made’. The production is a dark, heavy hybrid of Afrobeats and tribal house, built around stomping drums and chanting vocals, and it’s clear this is an ugent and muscular track, pushing the core of this album to its limits.
But now, if you’re searching for one track to sum up the spirit of this record, look no further, as HEATED is your one. This cut blends dancehall rhythms with sleek pop polish and builds steadily before erupting into a frantic outro. Bey sings: ‘dimples on my hip, stretch marks on my tits, drinking my water, minding my biz’ while I imagine her fanning herself off. She gives us the most iconic, unhinged song of her career with this one, but it’s such a bop. Thank God she took Drake off of it, though. Phew.
Continuing this dark, heavy, and filthy obsession, THIQUE brings a grinding, industrial-trap energy to the record’s late-night section. It’s 3am now and the production feels murky and menacing, driven by a synth pulse that rattles your ribcage. Vividly, Beyonce tells her friends to ‘go harder’ as her ‘ass [gets] thiquer’. Great gym hype track. You’ll feel like a bad bitch after listening to this too.
Dialling it up again and collaborating with PC Music head A.G. Cook, ALL UP IN YOUR MIND pushes Beyoncé straight into hyper-pop territory. The production is metallic and abrasive, featuring distorted vocal chops and rising synth buzzes (‘you need a really wild one, I knew that you couldn’t live without her’) and it’s truly one of the most bizarre tracks she’s ever released. It really does prove Beyoncés willingness to hand over her vocals to underground visionaries and build something totally unexpected, aggressive, and utterly captivating. I’m tranced out.
Despite the politically infused title manifesto, AMERICA HAS A PROBLEM subverts expectations by being an absolute, rapid-fire Miami bass bop. Bey rides the high-tempo beat with a rapid, rhythmic rap flow, comparing her own addictively elite status to drug-trade metaphors. It’s a fast, relentless, and wildly addictive flex of a track that needs to be longer!
In a glorious, two-part love letter to ballroom culture and classic pop-soul, PURE/HONEY starts off as just PURE, a ranty, ballroom-techno thumper, complete with clacking fans and a vogue-beat chop as Kevin Aviance samples ‘bad bitches to the left, money bitches to the right, you can be both, meet in the middle, dance all night’. But just as you’re locked into the dark, sweaty groove, the track seamlessly morphs into something completely different. The HONEY segment enters as a bright, glittering pop-soul jam with heavy Prince vibes and sweet, soaring melodies. The transition on this one is pure alchemy, giving a grand, big-budget showcase to dancehall as such a diverse genre. Sweet as… well, honey?
On that same level of sweetness, SUMMER RENAISSANCE wrings the last drops of sweat out of the room by taking on and sampling Donna Summer’s immortal “I Feel Love”. The bass on this record launches us straight into the stratosphere, and it’s really a triumphant, high-fashion victory lap where Bey struts across a bed of disco-techno production with such confidence. She devotes herself: ‘I wanna crush you, I won’t overanalyse, I’m gonna trust you even though we met tonight’ in a full-circle moment that honours the ancestors of dance music while establishing her own modern reign. The track gallops to an end and unexpectedly has the most perfect loop back to the start if you want to go for round 2.0. Cyclical Bey, Renaissance extraordinaire.
Upon finishing this release, you aren’t just finishing an album, you’re stumbling out of a humid, hours-long club night into the cool 5am air, ears ringing, feet ruined, completely exhilarated and on a real high.
What Beyoncé has accomplished with ‘RENAISSANCE’ goes far beyond simply making a great dance record. She’s reclaimed a genre that was built by Black and queer visionaries, wiped away decades of bland pop-sanitising, and delivered it back to the masses with maximum budget, supreme authority, and, most importantly, love.
The music on this record has carried most of the weight of her full genius. Vocals are absurd, sequencing is a masterclass in pacing, and transitions bridge gaps perfectly. It’s a living, breathing piece of art and the symbol of freedom. 10/10. No notes. Ate.
Glerbie 