In early 2018, just as he was beginning to establish himself as a promising young artist, Will Bryant, aka Wiley from Atlanta, suffered a tremendous loss. His name was Jarrod Milton, a gifted singer and songwriter from Stone Mountain who was also starting to emerge as one of Atlanta’s bright new talents. Over the course of their mutual rise and development, the pair became close confidants, collaborators, and friends until Milton’s life was cut tragically short by leukemia.

Wiley from Atlanta - Blue Don't Make Me Cry

Bryant’s debut full length, the majestic, galvanizing Blue Don’t Make Me Cry, is a work borne from sorrow and mourning. At it’s core, the record is a requiem for Milton, but it’s also Bryant’s way of moving past the pain and coming to terms with his own direction and inclinations as an artist. Throughout the LP, the color blue weighs as an omnipresent motif. Because blue is favored by so many people, it’s often viewed as a non-threatening color that is conservative and traditional. It calls to mind feelings of calmness, and is frequently described as peaceful, tranquil, secure, and orderly.

But blue is also the color of sadness and grief. Perhaps the simplest interpretation of Blue Don’t Make Me Cry is one of defiance—a solemn declaration that Bryant will no longer yield to the sorrow that’s invaded his life. But after spending some time with the record, I choose to think of the title as Wiley’s means of embracing the blue of serenity, which has at long last appeared in his life. This sense of stability and self-possession cannot make him weep, and that in and of itself is a blessing. In this context, the album title becomes not statement of resistance, but a confessional, relief-inducing admission.

Still, none of this would be particularly revelatory if the music wasn’t so triumphantly cathartic. For all his 21 years, there is more than enough pain in these vocals to last a lifetime, and the thought that an artist’s debut is their most honest has rarely been this applicable. Since the beginning of his career, Wiley from Atlanta has been a purveyor of gritty, emotive R&B peppered with hip-hop sensibilities. Blue Don’t Make Me Cry continues this dynamic approach, albeit with greater urgency and attention to detail.

Featuring supporting vocals from Milton, “Cashmere” serves not only as the album’s opener, but also it’s de facto emotional nucleus. “I’ve been thinking too hard about thinking too hard,” Bryant sings at the onset, his normally laconic voice sounding full of resignation. There’s always been a gruff, sensual quality to Wiley from Atlanta’s music, and while there are glimmers of that seductiveness underlying the track, the atmosphere is far more reflective. To his credit, however, Bryant doesn’t allow himself to linger too long in the gloom. After just two stirring minutes, the cut effectively transitions into “Backseat,” a song steeped in nostalgia playing in the lap of teenage romance.

Album highlights “Blood Orange,” “Drown,” and “This Ain’t Love” subscribe to the dialed-in production courtesy of Malik Drake and former Milton collaborator Oliver Blue. With their hypnotic beats and sprawling verses, these songs feel much like long poems set to music, impassioned and lyrical. Elsewhere, the honest, resilient “Champion” is one of the year’s most spirited anthems, while “Vienna” does its job as the shortest and sweetest song on the album—a brief, content, happy daydream that runs just 1:17.

The LP ends with a reprise of “Cashmere” that seeks out a stream-of-consciousness flow in terms of its lyricism and production. It is a well-intentioned move, and yet it appears to be tacked on out of emotion. As missteps go it’s fairly insignificant, a slight stumble on a record full of massive leaps and bold moves. Wiley from Atlanta has crafted a debut full of deep beauty, passion, and soul. Jarrod Milton would no doubt be proud.

More Info
Bandcamp: wileyatl.bandcamp.com
Facebook: @wileyatl
Instagram: @wileyatl
SoundCloud: @wileyatl
Twitter: @wileyatl