THE GOSPEL TRUTH
On his daring full-length debut, the enigmatic artist explores queer love through devotional music
With a pentagram and the words “SUICIDE” and “HEAVEN” permanently branded on his forehead plus an enormous septum ring, Josiah Wise doesn’t fit anyone’s typical image of a gospel singer. Trained as a choirboy, the Baltimore- born crooner spent his childhood in the Pentecostal church under the watchful eyes of his religious mother, only to later come to embrace his queerness and finally emerge as an occultist/artist under the all- lowercase, one- word moniker serpentwithfeet. Despite his jarring, hard- edged appearance, he crafts a startlingly ethereal hybrid of dark R& B and gospel that defines blisters, 2016’ s five-track EP helmed by Björk’s collaborator and producer the Haxan Cloak.
On his debut LP, Soil, Wise links up with an interesting line-up of co-producers, ranging from glitchy hip-hop maverick Clams Casino to Paul Epworth, the prolific brain behind Adele, Coldplay and Florence and the Machine. Across its 11 tracks, the record weaves in and out of otherworldly electronics, grandiose gospel textures and religious allusions. Wise’s voice, soaring and visceral, is a vessel through which he relays the message of love in all its glory.
“If you whisper, only I will hear you/Not all adults are making love/Breaking their backs out of fear/I’m here with you,” begins opening track Whisper atop sneaky flutes. The playful airiness continues on Messy, a pop-oriented track that showcases his R&B runs reminiscent of Frank Ocean.
Things take an interesting turn on Fragrant, a noir electronica number on which a romantic yearning feels almost religious (“I love all your ex-boyfriends/I love the way they kiss … As their bodies, their bodies coiled around mine/We sang your name in harmony, we sounded just fine”).
Likewise, the record’s centrepiece Cherubim finds him luxuriating in the fervent adoration of his lover (“I get to devote my life to him/I get to sing like the cherubim”) so much so that it teeters on eroticism (“Boy, every time I worship you/My mouth is filled with honey/Boy, as I build your throne I feel myself growing”).
The unyielding devotion continues to dominate the narrative of tracks like Seedless (“I’ll comfort all of you/When you’re needy and seedless”) and Waft (“I followed his scent all the way here/I can tell he loves deeply just by the fog he leaves in the air”).
Even on the piano-driven closer Bless Ur Heart, Christian allusions are used to make a statement (“Or will my psalms seek the company of lonely breaths?”).
At its core, Soil tells a story of basic human experiences revolving around love, lust and loss. As a black queer artist, Wise courageously draws an analogy between God and a lover, flip it upside down, and then place it in a wholly queer context. By turns theatrical and tender, this is one of this year’s boldest and most emotionally stirring records we’ve had the pleasure of discovering.