It's hard to find another performer who, in recent years, has embodied the image of the disco-queen better than Jessie Ware. Image and spirit alike, immortalized in a string of singles, videos, collaborations and looks that have carried the entire legacy of the disco era straight into the 2020s. But there comes a moment when the diva, whether out of weariness or something else, decides to step back from the spotlight, at least for a while. The closing chapter of a dance trilogy that allowed the London artist to explore the world of clubs on her own terms, with "Superbloom" she winds the clock back a decade and lands right where it all began, in the blazing Seventies, when Donna Summer, Gloria Gaynor and the Sister Sledge reigned supreme on both sides of the Atlantic. And yet, in this glittering garden of delights, there are flavours here that come from altogether different trees.
Blooms, trees, plants and abundance: it's impossible not to think of other oases, of that "Come To My Garden" that made Minnie Riperton and her voice legendary. It's from there that Ware first set out to shape the songs describing her earthly paradise, drawing on the soft, lush soul orchestrations that once wrapped around the Chicago singer's voice like a glove. Less fluttery and certainly more forceful, the British singer rediscovers her soulful side, the same one that already fuelled one of her recent classics ("Remember Where You Are"), which here takes up even more room, elbowing its way into as much space as it can. Sometimes she does it with all the grandeur the moment calls for (the orchestral bloom of the title track), sometimes she leans more on the emotional shading of her supple voice (the thirsty, velvety softness of "Love You For"); either way, it remains the main stylistic engine of a project that exploits its full potential, not even shying away from the occasional kitsch indulgence.
And where does dance music fit into all this? More importantly, how does it fit in? When it approaches the lighter, looser moments, it does so with all the effectiveness and harmony one could hope for (take the lead single "I Could Get Used To This", a vibrant vocal call-and-response built on cadenced basslines and plush grooves), but it's less compelling when it leans into its synthetic side, into those boogie flourishes that have often popped up in her previous work, especially "What's Your Pleasure?".
Not that there's anything really wrong with the Italo-disco sparkle of "Ride" or the electro eroticism of "Sauna", but in a project with a much sunnier, more "floral" stylistic outline, their impact lands a bit too heavy, carrying an aggressiveness better suited to different stages and dancefloors. It's all a matter of balance, of that cohesiveness which the previous instalments had shown in spades, for all their variety of elements. No matter: even with a somewhat hazier close to the trilogy, Jessie Ware shows off all her savoir faire, the strength of an expressiveness and a character that know how to rediscover themselves calmer, resolutely romantic. Could the future of the British singer already be hiding in here?
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08/05/2026
This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Vassilios Karagiannis, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.