Rochelle Jordan – Crave

Anjy’s pick has us tapping our feet…

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[7.88]Anjy Ou: “Crave” is a jewel of a ’90s house track sitting in the crown that is Rochelle Jordan’s third studio album, Through The Wall. Since the last time the Jukebox covered her, the Torontonian singer has adopted electronic music as the primary vehicle for her self-expression, and Through The Wall takes listeners deep into the dance section of the genre. There are a lot of standouts on the album — braggadocious “Ladida“, FAFO anthem “Doing It Too“, silky-smooth “The Boy” produced by Kaytranada — but “Crave” was my Amnesty pick because I think it showcases the best of what Jordan has to offer as a vocalist and a songwriter. Teasing yet honest, she sweetly admits that she uses moments of friction to seek a more tangible connection with her lover. She sings softly of quiet moments between lovers, then gradually amps up the electricity through the pre-chorus until the chorus hits like a ray of light through a gap in the curtains in the morning. The journey from tension to release feels like riding a wave with confidence — assured that rough waves won’t capsize the ship, you can enjoy the highs without fearing the lows. Jordan effortlessly weaves this narrative on top of some gorgeous production that is every dance music and R&B lover’s dream. (“What if you took your favorite 90s R&B ballad and slapped a house beat on it, wouldn’t that be sick?!”) It may not be her most boundary-pushing or challenging song, but it’s nearly perfect, and that’s enough to convince me that she will be one of the most important Black female artists of the decade and remain so for years to come.
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William John: If 2021’s Play With The Changes hadn’t already convinced you of Rochelle Jordan’s bona fides, then surely this year’s Through The Wall, a long, luxurious embarrassment of riches, anoints her as the gold standard for big-sister, club-sovereign R&B / dance. The album is a mélange of UK funky, funky-funk and Pharrell homage, but above all is indebted to various shades of ’90s house, and indeed on “Crave”, she enlists Terry Hunter, one of Chicago’s finest purveyors of the genre, to lend a hand with this glorious mid-album groove. The track’s airy ease is a reminder that sometimes desire needn’t be so complicated.
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Nortey Dowuona: The butterfly effect is real.
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Alfred Soto: Reminiscent of late ’90s 3 a.m. post-crash thumpers like “The Future is the Future,” “Crave” doesn’t stint on passion: I believe Rochelle Jordan when she begs a companion to touch it touch touch it while the synth strings quote “More Than a Woman.” I love this shit.
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Julian Axelrod: When an artist has featured on as many dance tracks as Rochelle Jordan has, sometimes their solo work can feel incomplete in comparison, like going to a Michelin star restaurant and just ordering the spices. But at their best, they’re able to synthesize the best traits of all their past collaborators into a proper song that transcends window dressing. And while “Crave” echoes Jordan’s dancefloor excursions in its skittering Kaytranda drums and smoky Sango synths, it’s her effortless lilt that extends the song past the hips and into the head and heart. She’s in full control of her instrument, but Rochelle and producer Terry Hunter’s restraint belies the lyrics about giving into desire. On “Crave,” Rochelle Jordan doesn’t skimp on spice while proving she can deliver a full meal.
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Ian Mathers: Impeccably managed, the sonic equivalent of “beautiful gowns,” and a well-sung performance on top of it. But… the “touch it touch it touch it” feel a little affectless, a little lacking in intensity (which would be less noticeable if they didn’t happen so often). It’s not icy or reserved either, just kind… there. Might grow on me, but feels odd right now.
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Claire Davidson: A house track need not be complicated in order to succeed, and “Crave” has all the requisite elements for greatness: an understated but rattling percussion groove, nocturnal synth touches, and an effervescent performance from Rochelle Jordan that retains its sense of curiosity even amidst the subtlety of her breathier delivery. The verses are deliberately withholding, as Jordan sets the scene by instructing her partner to treat her with just the right amount of delicacy before initiating sex, priming the chorus for a real explosion that feels rousingly inevitable. Yet the hook, with its central refrain of, “I need you to touch it, touch it, touch it,” seems uncertain of whether to opt for restrained eroticism or unabashed joy, splitting the tonal difference to a degree that feels borderline anticlimactic in a song that’s otherwise so well-orchestrated.
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Will Adams: The ease with which Rochelle Jordan locks into her surroundings — be it steely R&B or, here, frosted glass house — is stunning. Even down to the subtleties, like her delivery of “touch it, touch it, touch it” being ever-so-slightly behind the beat, evokes the carefree sublime that comes when you release yourself to the groove. There are other singles off Through the Wall with more immediacy, but I won’t turn down something this sumptuous.
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