Picture the kind of R&B listener who keeps sage burning and has never not blamed something on Mercury retrograde. Her playlist doubles as a spiritual cleansing ritual, with Jhené Aiko providing affirmations and SZA reminding her that enlightenment won’t protect you from situationships. She can now add nomi. to her rotation. On her debut album, this wolf may cry, the North Carolina-raised singer offers a dreamy, occasionally intoxicating collection of alternative R&B that sounds right at home beside the crystals and incense. Stuttering drum patterns and elastic basslines rub up against glossy keyboards and slow piano chords, blending early 2000s sounds with the futuristic sensuality of Kelela. The songs flirt, brood, and occasionally get weird, but nomi.’s singing rarely matches their personality, and her lyrics reveal surprisingly little about what makes these romantic entanglements worth the trouble.
A former DJ who found confidence as a performer by watching Showgirls, nomi. has cultivated a blend of neo-soul, bedroom pop, and Neptunes-inspired funk that sidesteps contemporary R&B’s nostalgic fixations. this wolf may cry makes a persuasive case for her musical instincts. On “sweet talk,” wiry, Steve Lacy-like guitar riffs knock against punchy, boom-bap drums, channeling the off-kilter sensuality of early Neptunes productions (no wonder Tyler, the Creator took notice). nomi. sounds unusually animated as she encourages a lover to talk with their hands: “Use your body language/Tell me what you’re saying,” she sings with flirtatious urgency. “what u want” is even more seductive: Delicate piano chords unfold beneath falling rain, suggesting two lovers waiting out a storm. The almost pleading quality to nomi.’s voice as she admits she’s “only giving in to what you want” lends an emotional specificity her lyrics often lack on their own.
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In a female R&B landscape that favors whispered melodies and conversational phrasing over the kind of full-throated performances once synonymous with the biggest stars, nomi. recognizes that intimacy can be just as commanding as belting. In “digital dash,” spacey synths drift over diaphanous harmonies that recall Solange’s A Seat at the Table, while a rare dip into a lower register introduces a welcome richness to nomi.’s typically wispy vocals. But across this wolf may cry, her breathy delivery becomes so uniform that longing, frustration, and romantic desperation frequently sound indistinguishable. Her voice rarely changes gears, even when the production shifts into overdrive. On “back seat,” a springy bassline and electronic flourishes recall the eccentric R&B of Kelis and the perky dance-pop of PinkPantheress. It’s one of the album’s most radiant songs, but nomi.’s delivery barely responds to the commotion around her, remaining subdued as the instrumental twists and turns.
The sense of restraint carries over to the lyrics: Summer Walker and SZA make even the most humiliating romantic decisions feel painfully specific, and though nomi.’s songs explore similarly tangled relationships, they often give the impression of a love letter with the most revealing passages blacked out. On “what u want,” all-consuming desire produces the strangely impersonal declaration, “I wanna hold your hand ’cause I long for emotion.” Over rough-edged synths on “right/left,” nomi. warns a disappointing suitor, “If you get right/You wouldn’t get left.” It’s the kind of petty one-liner that Victoria Monét could deliver with a wink and a smirk; nomi.’s milder approach misses the playful spirit of the pun. What lingers, though, is the pleasure of the music itself: this wolf may cry dresses ordinary sentiments in ingenious beats and unexpected textures. As a debut, it makes its strongest case for its singer’s curatorial perspective.