Available to buy on iTunes
Review: In a move that would typically represent an artist’s desire to evoke an aura of maturity, the sixth studio album from R&B stalwart Ciara arrives christened with the name of her mother. But yet, in a move that would typically represent an artist’s appreciation for the plot of Freaky Friday, Jackie plays like the gum-chewing, Jell-O shot-sinking successor to 2013’s Ciara – a short, sweet and surprisingly ‘street’ ten-tracker that held the key to Cici’s hipster-R&B kudos in one hand (“Body Party”) and tasty forays into sparkling dance-pop in the other.
That record held off its Top 40-tempting behemoths (“Overdose”, “Livin’ It Up”) until the final stretch, almost as a reward for the casual fans who joined her on Ciara’s sleek, sensual narrative. Jackie, however, is content to put everything on the table. When Pitbull’s exasperated drawl treads the icy synths of “That’s How I’m Feelin’”, it’s the aural equivalent of waving a white flag from Credibility Castle. The track’s topline is regrettably Ester Dean-by-numbers, and does not even come close to matching the songwriter’s previous triumphs (“Super Bass”, “Rude Boy” et al), which is a shame considering Missy Elliott finally capitalises on the Super Bowl-induced nostalgia now synonymous with her name with a giddy contribution.
“Give Me Love” is an astoundingly generic appropriation of the Robin S. classic “Show Me Love” – although a disheartening portion of listeners are destined to recognise any similarities as analogous to Jason DeRulo’s “Don’t Wanna Go Home”. “Stuck On You”, meanwhile, with its pounding drums and speakerphone-assisted hooks (“Ain’t nothing like rolling with a Georgia peach”), is an admirable exercise in ratchet charm.
Ciara’s modest but plush soprano is given a good workout on the maternal ballad “I Got You”, and “I Bet”, an acoustic guitar-backed mid-tempo that addresses the singer’s fallout with ex-husband and collaborator Future in occasionally heartbreaking detail. But it’s the 80’s-inspired warmth of “Dance Like We’re Making Love” and “Kiss & Tell” that serve as Jackie’s most symbiotic marriages of voice and production: “Dance Like…” finds the singer breaking the word “love” down into seven syllables on a breathy staccato chorus, while the disco-lite embrace of “Kiss & Tell” captures butterflies-in-tummy anxiety over a shimmery but subtle groove. Cici goes hard on the title track, a maniacal expression of braggadocio that flits from trap to drum-and-bass nuances to arrogant twangs of electric guitar, accompanied by lyrics that are undoubtedly coming to an Instagram feed near you: “If you’d been through what I been through / Man, you’d be popping this shit, too!”
The largely jubilant nature of Jackie will most likely serve as an enjoyable change of pace for longtime fans, but it is disappointing that Ciara’s most pop-orientated record possesses such a restricted view of what pop music can be. The militant girl-power of bonus track “One Woman Army” suggests the potential for a slightly more imaginative approach to her art. Whether Ciara’s output continues to mature in reverse – or if her grandmother may want to consider a name change to spare her from future embarrassment – remains to be seen.