I Have Been Listening, Zayn
Zayn’s long-awaited third record, Nobody Is Listening, was worth the wait.
Former One Directioner Zayn’s musical journey has been riddled with landmines: racism, Islamophobia, criticism for choosing his mental health over One Direction, and a rocky relationship with his record label. Despite his absence from social media, radio stations, and late night television, Zayn has managed to maintain a loyal fanbase, with some of his fans carrying over from his boy band days and others joining for his solo ventures. I can only guess it’s because of his ambient production, soaring falsettos, and poetic lyricism. And, of course, the creative nods to his desi roots. That’s why I’ve stuck around.
Over the past few years, it became quite a chaotic game on Twitter to try and spot Zayn’s dyed hair, tattoos, or shadow in the background of Gigi Hadid’s photos. So when Nobody Is Listening, Zayn’s third album, was announced a week before it was set to be released, the news gave content-starved fans something to look forward to. Before midnight on Jan. 15, I sat impatiently waiting for Spotify to refresh so I could immerse myself in what I expected would be transcendent music. Too many years ago (in 2018), Zayn’s sophomore album, Icarus Falls, was released. While it was not a commercial success, it was a sentimental success for me. The album was inspired by the myth of Icarus, his melting wings, and his tragic descent. Though the 27-track album kept me sated for a while, I found myself wishing upon any flying object for a new Zayn era.
That’s where Nobody Is Listening comes in. The record comprises 11 breezy songs. The first, “Calamity,” is a hybrid of spoken word poetry and rap. If I focus hard enough, I can almost envision Zayn on stage at the Bowery Poetry Club, laying bare a fraction of his mind for the audience. He speaks of nostalgia, of choice, of the passing of time. He raps, “It’s do or die, I’m not goin’ willing / But when it’s time, wrap in white linen,” referencing the Islamic tradition of enshrouding the dead in white linen before burial. This line hit me more than I suppose it would’ve a non-Muslim listener. He repeats, over steady bass and piano befitting any black and white thriller film, that nobody, indeed, is listening to him.
“Outside” is a standout song for me. Co-written with Khalid, the track boasts Zayn’s sky-high falsetto and harmonized, layered vocals that practically make the listener (more specifically, me) levitate. The guitar and drum production is paired perfectly with lyrics that tell the story of a besotted Zayn who is giving his partner the choice to either finish things or continue where they left off. Possibly offering insight into his on-and-off light switch relationship with partner Gigi Hadid, the track feels intimate enough to where you feel guilty for listening to it but can’t resist. He sings, “Do I keep the dog or do you want him? / When I look at him, I think of you / The t-shirt that you’re wearing, that’s my favorite / Damn, I really thought that we would make it.”
Zayn has a history of producing silky, sensual, and sometimes completely NSFW bops. Exhibits A, B, and C are “Pillowtalk,” “TiO,” and “Let Me,” respectively. He continues this tradition with “Sweat” and “Windowsill” on Nobody Is Listening. With a drum break that hearkens back to Phil Collins’ iconic song “In The Air Tonight,” “Sweat’’ could get anyone’s heart rate going. The bop successfully brings a piece of the 80s into 2021. In “Windowsill,” English rapper Devlin’s verse meshes well with the song’s clock-like ticking and exciting drums, but I found the lyrical depth lacking. Devlin raps, “Your cigarettes on the windowsill / You left here from the night before / I take one, never light it up / Night comes and I want you more.” Even more disappointing, the chorus is absurd and comical. Zayn sings, “Cigarettes and fuckin’ on the windowsill / In my bed, yeah, tell me when you’re gettin’ here / Only thing I wanna know / Is how far away you are.” We all know this isn’t advised with Manhattan windows unless you want an audience. Despite the uninspired lyrics, “Windowsill” makes me want to do a little shimmy. At this rate, Zayn’s golden pipes will single-handedly be responsible for this century’s baby boom.
The short record’s penultimate track “Tightrope” is my favorite. It’s everything a love song should be: gentle, honest, swayable. Zayn doesn’t know what his future holds but he knows that his love for his partner will be a constant force in his life. The South Asian influences make this track special for me. Zayn samples “Chaudhvin Ka Chand Ho” by Mohammed Rafi — the voice of old Bollywood and my childhood — and creates an atmosphere that feels like a warm hug from an old friend. And what could be more romantic than expressing love in English and Urdu?
Having followed Zayn’s career closely since my teenage years, I care about how his anxiety made performing a nightmarish ritual, how he prefers to keep the lowest of low profiles, and how his life experiences and cultural background inform his artistic choices. I care because I can relate. In a way, I feel a sort of kinship with Zayn; his success as a diasporic desi makes me feel joy and hope and that feeling when you just want the best for someone else. He’s the little brown boy from Bradford who made it. And he makes me wonder if I’ll ever be the little brown girl who makes it.
Nobody Is Listening is a departure from Zayn’s usual dark, heavily produced pop tunes. It’s soft, vulnerable, and honest. It feels like a gift to everyone who stuck around all these years while Zayn figured out what type of artist he wanted to be and who he was making music for. It seems he’s decided to make music he’s proud of, no matter how long it takes. And that makes the wait worth it.
