We await the next single, “Fantastic”…
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[6.43]
Alfred Soto: Often charmed but unmoved, I listen to Normani to appreciate a certain warmth. “Fair” defines her approach: even-handed to lovers who deserve less. Lord knows in these times I appreciate the approach even as I suppress a convulsive little yawn.
[6]
Vikram Joseph: It feels like a lottery as to whether this low-key, washed-out mood piece captures you in its orbit or passes you by; unfortunately, there’s just not enough going on sonically or melodically for the odds to be worth playing. The production creates plenty of space, but doesn’t use it especially well — it’s like Marvin’s Room, but most of the decor is beige.
[5]
Tim de Reuse: Over a dark, sweeping instrumental anchored firmly to the seabed by a chunky drum machine and a quietly growling bass synth, Normani laments. Her delivery is precise (just listen to that beautiful lilt on “better than average”) and her lyricism straightforward; with little metaphor to get in the way, it gets to dwell on the crushing lucidity of knowing exactly where you’re at and how you got there.
[9]
Ady Thapliyal: Normani has spoken about how her perfectionism slows her pop career down, so on a personal level it’s a breakthrough that she serves us “Fair” underthought and undercooked. It’s unfortunate because with just a little bit more tinkering, this could’ve sounded as lush as Brandy’s “Borderline.”
[3]
Leah Isobel: I love the prospect of Normani doing icy mid-2000s downtempo, but while “Fair” is undeniably gorgeous, it isn’t the most interesting use of the aesthetic. Its sadness is one-dimensional; you wish for some kind of twist, something to introduce messy humanity into its antiseptic soundscape.
[6]
Oliver Maier: All three singles of this interminable album rollout have suffered from an excess of competence and a lack of real star power from Normani. I don’t know if a lane that she can call hers exists, but if it does, she’s not going to find it by spreading herself thin. There’s not much I can criticise about “Fair” except that it just doesn’t excite me, outside of that glistening vein of autotune in the post-chorus, which feels truly inspired. Other than that this is just fair enough.
[6]
Nortey Dowuona: “Fair” is the first time Normani has let us behind the curtain. By and large, her solo releases have been stunning showcases of her talent, but rarely of personal investment. Even “Motivation” and “Waves” and “Dancing with a Stranger” lean on the tracings of other artists. “Fair” is a completely different story. For one, it’s soft. Even the rubbery drums tumbling in the mix are muted and low, anchoring but not driving it; that work is done by the velvet synths. Even when the bass synths are planted in the chorus, the velvet synths lift like a cloud, the light plonking of the piano a rumble that appears to add texture then disappears, all to support a cooing post-chorus which carries agony that can’t be put into words, floating among the clouds and not clinging on tightly to the kick. The writing is also soft. The second verse begins with, “baby, if we could trade places/so you’d feel betrayed/and I could feel shameless” — not at all cutting, more morose and regretful. It reveals the longing in her tone, simply trying to get him to understand her feelings, not to condemn and cuss him out — but that betrayal is still there, and as much as she does long for him, she’s not going to deny what he did to hurt her. The verse continues: “I carry all of the weight/and you get all of the gains/I can’t take all the ways that she might touch you”, and the dreadful anguish bubbles below her voice as she carries the weight of the love she continues to feel while he gains everything he wants — including the touch of his new love. The shortness also seems to fit the emotions Normani is trying to convey. In the verses, she sings in a low, soft tone, slipping into a lilt every time she hits a run, always lifting a bit, never directly leaping higher — until the chorus, where she solely lilts, only dipping down to the line “hearts didn’t break down the middle”, before immediately lilting up to “tell me how did that happen?” It’s at this point the “oooh”s come in, bloodshot and high-pitched, shaking as they’re pitch-corrected into almost fully autotuned coos, the agony and anguish crackling and frothing, the song about to break. “Fair” is a song only Normani could make, and each part of it proves that. Many of her contemporaries, like Chloe or Kehlani or SZA or even SheWhoWritesRacistPropaganda Cabello have at least a bite or bitterness undergirding even their most soft songs, but with Normani there is none, just the softness and vulnerability. A terrifying prospect, since the bite is what makes the soft underbelly impossible to touch — but Normani has presented it to us openly; that hope, that love. “The first thing she said was don’t hurt me.” — Scarface
[10]