Words and Photos by Andrea Regina Esperon
Dutch-born American singer, songwriter, producer, and multi-instrumentalist Leven Kali continues to affirm why he’s operating at such a sharp creative peak. After winning the 2023 Grammy Award for Best Dance/Electronic Album for Beyonce’s Renaissance, Kali reenters the music scene as a solidified artist dropping an R&B album that redefines his artistry.
LK99 is the kind of album you put on alone in your room and just move. Not in a performative way, but more so instinctual. The guitar grooves don’t just sit in the background of the song, but they guide the rhythm of your body. The drums don’t overpower the songs, but instead, they lock in the tempo. But more importantly, his vocals don’t disappear within the backtrack. They are woven into the instrumentation so tightly that it feels like everything is breathing together as one art form.
Which is convenient because the opening track is titled, “Breathe.” It literally begins with Leven breathing into the mic, that offers almost uncomfortable closeness that pulls you in. It feels like a grounding exercise, like that anxiety trick where you’re told to just focus on your breath. He sings, “Close your eyes baby listen.”It is not just a lyric, but an instruction on how to listen to the album. The bass becomes the backbone of the groove, anchoring the entire track. This opening track is a reminder to stay present, even in chaos as loud as the backtrack.
“Stars, Stripes & Credit Card Swipes” shifts the palette a bit. There’s a playful, almost satirical energy to it that feels reminiscent of Tyler, The Creator in its boldness and arrangement. But those trumpets? They completely steal the moment. It’s a soft, yet explosive sound that elevate the track into something cinematic.
Then comes “Are You Still,” which opens with these almost confrontational drums and guitar strums before dissolving into a funkier, more layered groove based on harmony. Between that transition, there is tension. Kali asks “are you still in love like I am?” The instrumentation mirrors that emotional weight. Those hard-hitting drums feel like the buildup to asking something you’re scared to hear the answer to. For me, I picture someone on their knees, asking for their partner back. Lines like “still hear your sound like a ghost inside” carry that haunting and lingering love, but it is the kind that doesn’t leave quietly. There’s even a subtle “boy who cried wolf” energy here, like questioning whether love has been stretched too thin to still be believed in.
“Remedy” brings things back into a smoother, more traditional R&B space, but it doesn’t lose depth. The reintroduction of the trumpets adds warmth, much like a weighted blanket. His lyricism here stands out: “when there’s no more words and I’m left in silence, you are my pen, and page, and writer.” It is truly intimate without being overdone. More so like reassurance, Kali wants to be that one person who becomes the constant through the confusion. “Through the noise, I hear the sweetest melody, it’s your voice.” It’s simple, yet so effective!
“Starlet” leans more into vulnerability, but through a lens of lust. The song itself is a bit shorter than the rest, but it doesn’t feel incomplete. It actually provides a smooth transition from the last song. The line “what did you think about the sex?” is almost disarming. Kali goes on to sing “you say this dick is like a drug.” Kali structures desire as something so addictive. The sparkle-like shimmering sounds layered into the background tie perfectly into the “starlet” imagery. It’s still yearning, still pleading, but less about emotional permanence and more about physical connection.
On “Grab It,” there’s a noticeable shift in perspective. It feels more assertive, even slightly impatient. He’s no longer the one constantly initiating, but rather, he’s pushing the other person to step it up. “If there’s something else you want, go ahead and grab it.” It echoes that idea that closed mouths don’t get fed. There’s confidence here, but also a challenge—especially when he throws in “I dare you.” It’s about letting go of hesitation and just taking action, in love and beyond.
“Just a Lil Bit” softens things again, leaning into self-reflection. There’s something almost ironic in the way he admits, “I’m not the type to ask for favors, but I find myself begging with you.” That contrast between independence and emotional need is where the song lives. The repetition of “I don’t need much, just a lil bit of you” feels like quiet desperation. But not in a way where it is overwhelming, but shows the persistence of needing someone so bad.
“Pieces” dips into something more fragmented, both emotionally and sonically. There’s a haziness to it, like he’s moving through feelings that aren’t fully processed. The idea of being broken into pieces is reflected in the delivery itself. When he sings “you wanna make love, you wanna get high,” and raises the octave, it feels almost like a physical elevation mixed into a mimicking sound of intoxication.
“Sleepwalking” plays with structure in a really interesting way. It starts off muffled, almost like you’re waking up from a nap, with everything unclear and distant. Then the drums come in, sharp and grounding, like reality snapping back into place. It mirrors that feeling of being so consumed by love that everything else feels like a blur. And by the end, the song reflects a full circle moment of as it fades back into that muffled state, like drifting off again into the next song.
“Raining Sun” feels like stepping outside after everything. There’s a lightness to it, like a morning walk with sunglasses on, even if the weather, or even life, doesn’t fully match the mood. The phrase “raining sunshine” itself is contradictory, and that’s exactly the whole point. Even as he mentions “bad news keeps on breaking,” the instruments still stay upbeat. I think this song holds a great reminder that even with the heaviness of a relationship, we must still hold onto the bright days of it all.
Finally, “Without U” closes things on a reflective note. The final tracks slow everything down, almost like he’s finally sitting with his thoughts. There’s a moment of attempted detachment where he sings “maybe I should give it some time, and I’ll be alright, but that’d be a lie.” He tries to convince himself he can move on, but ultimately circles back to “fuck it, I’ma give you a call.” Honestly, that’s so real. Kali understands that even somewhat of a reflective closure, in the end, he is left with a choice. And that choice was to give things another go.
What feels most exciting about Kali right now is that he’s stepping out from behind the curtain. After years of shaping sounds for other artists, he’s fully stepping into his own identity, with fusions of funk, R&B, and jazz with grooves that balance ambitious compositions with loose, live instrumentation.
Looking ahead, the question isn’t whether Leven Kali will continue to grow, but it’s how far he will take his artistry. If this project is any indication, he is entering a phase where he is making a name for himself with his music. And since he has already built a legacy alongside music icons, what comes next in his trajectory might be the moment where he defines one entirely on his own.
Loudspeaker Collective 