Blood Orange’s Dev Hynes Talks ‘Essex Honey,’ the Album He Wasn’t Sure He’d Ever Make


I am also curious just looking at this photo, it seems, and just listening to the album, that all your work, the argument could be made that it has elements of autobiography. Obviously it’s coming from your perspective, but this one feels more explicitly autobiographical than any of your other albums. And I don’t know if that’s just me projecting onto this image of this kid. There’s an emotion that this kid is wearing on his face, and I don’t know if that’s like he’s leaving school angry or disappointed or maybe he didn’t get picked for a game or something. There’s even songs on the album — especially on “In Between” — where it feels like you’re standing in the middle of your life looking at both the past and the future.

Well, I always say this: I’ve never written a song not about myself, and that’s always been the case. But with this album, it’s more that there’s no metaphors. I want it to be very direct. I want it to be super literal with everything. I’ve always felt that the more literal you are, it actually then becomes more metaphorical because things almost become abstract. Because you’re talking about these specificities that only you really know because only you were there. So it’s always been very, very personal, but this is pointed. There’s no messing around. The language is direct.

What would you say led you to that decision?

It kind of just happened naturally. I mean, I’ve always wanted to be more of a direct lyricist because I think actually my favorite lyricists are direct. Musically, I have always been drawn to the more colloquial lyricists. So in the back of my mind, that was a thing that I wanted to lean towards. But I think just day in and out, for me, the music is a form of getting emotions out of me. And so this album, or I should say this process of getting things out of me, it needed to be direct, because I was talking about growing up and I was talking about grief and talking about working through that.

You lost your mom two years ago. How would you say that loss informs Essex Honey?

I was back home for a long time before and after, and really reflecting on that. Reflecting on growing up, reflecting on what it means to lose a parent. And the thing is, grief is extremely complex and within it, there’s a million shades of emotions. It’s not just depression. There’s some joy when thinking about someone’s life and your time with them, but then moments where you dip. Your emotions will fluctuate like crazy. And that’s kind of what the album was. I was just living life and then writing and recording while that was happening. And then maybe towards the end of the process, I started to be a bit more direct and put it together as an album.

But before that, it was really just a case of, “Here’s what I’m feeling,” and just doing it. And I wasn’t even sure if I would make an album. I didn’t know if there would be another Blood Orange album or not. Because, I don’t know—I just wrestle with reasoning and trying to work out the point in doing things. But I got to a place where that started to feel quite self-absorbed to be like, “What’s the point in putting music out?” Because I love music. And the fact that I now get to make it, I feel it’s quite a blessing. I’m in quite a privileged position to release music and have people hear it. I listened to so much music that it just felt hypocritical to not release it.

Did you get to a point where you were sitting with the music that would become Essex Honey and feeling like, “This would be a missed opportunity if I didn’t share this with people?”

It’s not even that. It’s more like a weird respect for musicians. I think about my teenage self and I think about all the people I’ve encountered in my life who are insane musicians, so good. Some don’t get an opportunity to release music, some people don’t have an opportunity to have ears on their music. But I’m now in this place where people, no matter how small, will check it out. And so it was really more just that. It was like, I have to release music.

The album feels emotional, but maybe not in the way of what somebody would think like, “This is emotional music.” And maybe that’s a reductive way of thinking about it, but I think there’s a collaboration between the instrumentation and the lyrics and the melodies that feels like it comes from a place of love. Songs like “Thinking Clean” and “Countryside” especially made me think of Gil Scott-Heron’s work with Brian Jackson, where it’s this really sweet, somewhat nostalgic poetry backed by nice, delicate piano. “Countryside” seems to be expressing this visceral need for respite from the chaos of a city.

Yeah, you’re right. I’ve been craving this warmth that isn’t necessarily provided by these big cities. I guess it’s [me] getting older. I think lyrically, I discuss it in the songs. I really am trying to work it out. I want it to be quite direct in that language because I think there’s a part of it too, that actually has to do with the grief of losing my mother. There’s not really feeling at home in the coldness of these big cities, which are places that I have always felt quite at home in and quite warm in, and I still do. But I think something inside of me was just needing this sense of serenity. It’s funny because where I’m from in Essex, there are a lot of these grassy knolls and these landscapes, but it’s weird because it doesn’t always feel like it. And it was something that I was thinking about when I was working on this album. I was thinking about how it’s funny that where I’m from does have this, but I don’t feel like it’s where I’m from. But now that I’m older, I’m starting to crave it. So it’s like I’m trying to make sense of that jumble of emotion.

Does it feel like having that space and that time away from the bustle of a city brings you closer to memories you have of your mom?

I think it might. Also, at least for me and maybe some people I’ve spoken to, there’s this thing where the loss of a parent can sometimes make your vision a little clearer. And I started to, I don’t know, not feel connected to the city. I didn’t feel connected to people. I think I wanted distance; emotional distance and then physical distance from everything, really. And I think even in my head, even if it’s not literal at that distance, my mind feels like a field, it feels like the countryside. Just trying to get out of the world, even the digital world. I just felt quite tired, and so I just wanted to get away.



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