Ebubé Captivates with “Poison” and “Foresight” on Lush R&B Debut "Slow Jam Szn"
Like a rogue brushstroke that electrifies a Turner skyscape, Ebubé’s debut suite Slow Jam Szn arrives as liquid dusk trickling through the ear-drums. The UK-based singer-songwriter, an artisan of contemporary R&B with the anthropological zeal of a crate-digger, foregrounds two magnetic dipoles—“Poison” and “Foresight”—to plot the clandestine cartography of longing.
“Poison” saunters first, guitar strings snapping like silk ribbons above a molasses-thick bass line and meticulously clipped trap drums. Producer Joe Gosling engineers negative space with the precision of a master calligrapher, permitting Ebubé’s voice to glide, pivot, and pirouette. His timbre—equal parts velvet smoke and bright mercury—articulates the archetypal fatal attraction: she’s bad for me, but I breathe her anyway. Melismatic curlicues swirl around that confession, turning personal risk into pheromonal incense. Each ad-lib lands like a conspiratorial wink, drawing the listener deeper into a velvet room where danger perfumes the air yet never fully suffocates hope.
“Foresight,” conversely, exhales like dawn light diffusing across frosted glass. A pillowy Rhodes progression, feather-weight rimshots, and a murmuring synth-bass summon a gentle tidal sway, conjuring candle-lit flats and conversations conducted entirely by eyebrow. Ebubé sings slowly, allowing syllables to dilate like pupils adjusting to affection. “I saw your face and it was instant,” he murmurs, delineating the quantum leap from stranger to anchor. The hook feels less constructed than breathed, a momentary aurora borealis of pure intention that lingers long after the final chord sighs away.
Musically, the twin singles reveal Ebubé’s cartographer’s instinct for atmosphere. Guitar motifs dialogue with 808 thumps, gospel whispers peek through low-pass filters, and silence itself becomes narrative punctuation. Every production choice adheres to his manifesto of “slow, sensual but meaningful,” ensuring the chill ambiance never freezes into inertia. Lyrically he writes like a diarist smuggling philosophy between lipstick prints, communicating vulnerability without forfeiting wit.
Yet the deeper triumph of Slow Jam Szn lies in its empathetic architecture. These songs are not content to be heard; they are designed to listen back, to echo the private resonances we quarantine behind polite small talk. “Poison” validates the rush of knowingly bad decisions, while “Foresight” sanctifies the flutter of nascent hope—two panels of the same stained-glass window, illuminating the chapel of human impulse.
Stand under that glow for the EP’s twenty-odd minutes and you exit a shade braver, as though serenaded by your own emotional mirror. Ebubé has fashioned an oasis where slow jams feel less like nostalgia and more like necessary oxygen—heady, restorative, and unequivocally alive. It is R&B rendered as pulse, as perfumed midnight, as permission granted to feel everything too much and not apologise for the overflow.
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Like a rogue brushstroke that electrifies a Turner skyscape, Ebubé’s debut suite Slow Jam Szn arrives as liquid dusk trickling through the ear-drums. The UK-based singer-songwriter, an artisan…