Niia - I

Pitchfork 71

In 2013, Niia Bertino emerged as a mysterious figure in R&B. A classically trained pianist and jazz singer, her first single, “Made for You,” thrived as a haunting soul ballad that, when paired with producer Robin Hannibal’s scant backing track, allowed Niia’s voice to shine. A year later, on “Generation Blue,” she and Hannibal delved into 1980s dream pop, the kind of serene synth-driven melody you’d hear in a John Hughes film. Then, on “Body,” Hannibal’s production took a lighter turn; with its faint guitar riff and barely-there percussion, it closely resembled Hannibal’s work with Rhye, his nostalgic R&B duo with Toronto singer Mike Milosh. Much like Milosh, whose feathery falsetto draws comparisons to Sade, there’s a rich subtlety to Niia’s inflection that fits well with Hannibal’s nuanced soundscapes, no matter what mood they emit.

So while Niia’s debut album, I, is technically a solo endeavor, it feels like a collaborative effort with Hannibal that compiles trip-hop and sophisti-pop into one set. It feels brighter and more streamlined, fusing elements of Niia’s heavier jazz-influenced sound with modern bounce. Keeping with Niia and Hannibal’s previous output, I is a placid affair, in which Niia explores the thrill of new love and the complications that arise along the way. “Last Night in Los Feliz” might be its best song: Amid the composer’s delicate orchestral soul, Niia recalls the softer side of devotion, when she and her partner would embrace each other under the stars. Yet there’s a hint of sadness beneath it all, like Niia is holding on to moments that are slowly beginning to fade.

Compared with songs like “Made for You” and “Libertine Hero,” these tracks are easier to digest, making I a fluid listen that imparts lovelorn angst and sweet romanticism in equal measure. On “Sideline” and “Day & Night,” Niia plays the role of a jilted lover pleading for one more chance. On “Nobody” and “Girl Like Me,” she becomes the innocent pursuer, speaking sweet nothings that land softly on the ear. “I don’t even care what time it is,” she sings on “Nobody,” “... I want to play Mr. and Mrs.” Lyrics like these cut both ways on I: Hannibal’s sparse soundtrack draws immediate attention to Niia’s songwriting, which fastens nicely to the beats, leading to a sustained groove. Though as it plays, the words seems secondary to the music and don’t really hold up in the long run.

Niia’s voice is impressive here, but without stronger narratives to reinforce it, the instrumentals emerge as the record’s most enthralling element. To that end, I sets a refreshing vibe that brings to mind groups like Quadron and Zero 7, evoking a grown-up ethos tailor-made for yacht parties or chill Sundays at home. Yet without distinct standouts, I fades into the backdrop, resulting in a decent album that’s a bit too comfortable. Given the resonant power of Niia’s tone and the dynamic essence of Hannibal’s arrangements, they could stand to take a few more risks.

The Guardian 60

(Atlantic/Q)

Produced by Robin Hannibal from ethereal R&B act Rhye, LA-based “modern noir” chanteuse Niia’s debut utilises a similarly luxurious sonic palette. Spacious and immaculately constructed, it mixes Jessie Ware-esque ballads about bruised relationships (Hurt You First) with widescreen, jazz-dappled drama (Sideline) and, on the excellent Nobody, something you can almost dance to. Over time, however, the sonic precision and Niia’s velveteen voice become too cloying, with the emotions in songs such as the heady Girl Like Me trapped beneath a flawless sheen. Overall, there’s plenty to enjoy; if only the edges hadn’t been so smoothed out.