The Classical era gave us Mozart and Beethoven. The Romantic period gave us Tchaikovsky. The 20th century saw a sound revolution unfold with the likes of Ella Fitzgerald, The Beatles, Prince, and Madonna, to name a few. Unquestionably, the 21st century has been marked by a musician who has joined, and even surpassed, the ranks of her venerated predecessors.
It’s not often that a work of art comes along with the ability to resonate and unsettle the underpinnings of society quite the way Lemonade has. Beyoncé’s most influential work to date has inspired deep analysis and conversation about ideas such as race, relationships, and female sovereignty since its April 2016 release. It has forced listeners to reflect on where we have stood as a culture and where we stand now, and within the context of the past year since its unveiling, the album’s themes have echoed even louder.
Originally released as a visual album, Lemonade is described by TIDAL—the streaming service co-owned by Beyoncé’s husband, Jay-Z—as “a conceptual project based on every woman’s journey of self-knowledge and healing.” The hour-long short film had originally been promoted by HBO leading up to its April 23, 2016 reveal, in which the broadcasting networking premiered it that night with much anticipation. Previews for the visual album were mysterious and left the viewer intrigued, offering what would only later be understood as glimpses of the album’s different scenes.
Upon tuning in to view the film that night, I can recall the excitement I felt in awaiting to see the creation one of my favorite performers had produced. What I was not prepared for, though, was how the immense power of Beyoncé’s performance would shake me—and millions of others—to my core.
Filmed throughout New Orleans and other parts of Louisiana, the visual album makes implicit use of its surrounding imagery to help tell the story. The introduction of Lemonade begins with a hoodie-wearing, makeup-free Beyoncé submerged in a field of tall grass in the early sunrise. She desperately and captivatingly sings, “You can taste the dishonesty / It’s all over your breath / As you pass it off so cavalier / But even that’s a test / Constantly aware of it all / My lonely ear / Pressed against the walls of your world.”
It becomes immediately apparent that this album has to do with relationships and broken trust. What is even more apparent is the frank direction these lyrics seem to be aimed at Beyoncé’s husband, Jay-Z. Rumors had circulated in the past regarding the marital status and possible strife between the two, yet no comment had been publicly made. Until now.
As the visual album continues, different chapters are introduced throughout, with titles such as “Intuition, Denial, Anger, Apathy, Resurrection, Hope, Redemption.” Interspersed among lyrical tracks are the poetic words of Warsan Shire, a Somali-British poet whose verses Beyoncé narrates in the first person. Beautiful and eerie all at once, these recited words connect each piece to the next, going beyond what the song lyrics can.
As “Pray You Catch Me” draws to an end, the narrated question of “Are you cheating on me?” repeats itself as the album moves into its second song, “Hold Up.” “Hold Up” is a deceitfully upbeat track that contrasts a playful melody with more serious lyrics about paranoia in relationships. “What’s worse / Lookin’ jealous or crazy? / Or like / Being walked all over lately / I’d rather be crazy” she sings warningly. Throughout the video, Beyoncé is walking down a street, singing her lyrics with a wide grin on her face, while also smashing car windows with her Slugger baseball bat. Essentially, she is asking her husband to stop (“Hold Up”) to think about the consequences of his cheating—both on her and on himself.
The third track, “Don’t Hurt Yourself,” is the ultimate apex of Beyoncé’s anger and frustration. With Jack White on backup vocals, she aggressively and unapologetically sings, “When you hurt me / You hurt yourself / Don’t hurt yourself / When you diss me / You diss yourself / Don’t hurt yourself / When you lie to me / You lie to yourself / Don’t hurt yourself / When you love me / You love yourself / Love God herself.” Visually, she performs the song in a dark car garage where she makes direct eye contact with the camera; singling out the person she wants to hear these words the most. At one point, the song stops midway through with a reference to Malcom X, in which a recording of his voice is played over images of different black women. “The most disrespected person in America is the black woman,” he says. “The most unprotected person in America is the black woman. The most neglected person in America is the black woman.” And suddenly, the video fades back to the song: “I am the dragon breathing fire / Beautiful mane / I’m the lion / Beautiful man / I know you’re lying / I am not broken / I’m not crying.” Beyoncé’s venture into rock and roll in this song perfectly encapsulates the fury of betrayal, and the wrath of its repercussions.
“Sorry” is the album’s fourth track, and under the chapter title of “Apathy,” this song is about turning the tables of the offender and the offended when it comes to infidelity. Shire’s poetry is read before the song begins, stating, “Her heaven will be a love without betrayal / Ashes to ashes, dust to side chicks.” The song begins with an upbeat, club-sounding tempo in which Beyoncé and her friends are on a bus looking to just have fun. The video also bounces back and forth to a separate shot of the singer and friend, Serena Williams, dancing and singing alongside one another. “Middle fingers up / Put them hands high / Point it in his face / Tell him boy, bye / I ain’t sorry,” she sings without a seeming care. Though the majority of the song is one meant to be a fun escape for girlfriends to sing with one another, the tone turns serious in the final stanza. “I left a note in the hallway / By the time you read it I’ll be far away / I’ll fly away,” she sings with an evidently hurt quality. The final line, arguably one of the most famous from the album and the most speculated about, says, “He only want me when I’m not there / He better call Becky with the good hair.” Becky, it is supposed, is the woman with whom Beyoncé’s husband had cheated with, and the mention of this figure made clear the role of infidelity as one of the album’s themes.
“6 Inch,” “Daddy Lessons,” and “Love Drought” are the next grouping of songs on the album. In “6 Inch,” Beyoncé makes it clear that she made the effort to re-shift her focus from her troubled marriage to the work of her career, singing with backup from The Weeknd, “She fights and she sweats those sleepless nights / But she don’t mind / She loves the grind.” “Daddy Lessons” offers Beyoncé’s first dive into country sound, with a mix of classic New Orleans jazz intertwined. She sings of how the betrayal of her father toward her mother, and now the betrayal of her own husband toward her, has shaped her relationships and the way she sees men entering her life. “He told me when he’s gone / Here’s what you do / When trouble comes to town / And men like me come around / Oh my daddy said shoot,” she sings introspectively. With its dream-like melody, “Love Drought” is the beginning of the album’s shift toward reconciliation. “If we’re gonna heal,” she says as she recites Shire’s poetry, “let it be glorious.”
If “Love Drought” is the album’s first hint toward reconciliation, then “Sandcastles” and “Forward” are the true points of turn. If nothing else, “Sandcastles” can be described as one of the most raw, heart-wrenching ballads performed on the album. Beyoncé’s voice is accompanied by a lone piano, which in the video she plays as she sings with such vulnerability that an ache in your heart can’t help but develop. Hoarse and wounded, she mourns the broken state of her relationship as she sings “Dishes smashed on my counter / From our last encounter / Pictures snatched out the frame / Bitch I scratched out your name / And your face / What is it about you / That I can’t erase, baby? / When every promise don’t work out that way.” Accompanied by singer James Blake in “Forward,” this short interlude moves the listener from pain to progression. Despite the troubles she has faced, Beyoncé is ready and poised to move forward in her relationship after facing her pain head-on.
The track “Freedom” marks an interesting combination of themes. They lyrics may be understood to mean freedom from the past marks of a relationship on one hand, but on another they signify the strength of the black community—and black women specifically. “Freedom” is about transformation and strength, and flanked by black women of every age as well as the mothers of slain black teens, Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown, this track ignites a commitment to seeking change. “Freedom! Freedom! I can’t move / Freedom, cut me loose! / Freedom! Freedom! Where are you / Cause I need freedom too / I break chains all by myself / Won’t let my freedom rot in hell / Hey! I’ma keep running / Cause a winner don’t quit on themselves.” Beyoncé is joined by rapper Kendrick Lamar in the final verse, who counts down in a series of lines the different ways the black community faces oppression. Beyoncé poses the question of whether one will succumb to the pain, or free themselves by reclaiming the power of freedom.
The penultimate song of the album, and my personal favorite, is “All Night.” The track has a 70s love ballad feel to it, mixed with a classic Beyoncé pop-hook. She sings of “Sweet love / All night long,” and that she wants to, “Give you some time / To prove that I can trust you again.” Broken trust can take time to heal, and these lyrics hint at willingness and providing a chance to do so. The visual album also includes at this point a home video of the 90th birthday Hattie White, Jay-Z’s grandmother. In a speech, Ms. White comments, “I had my ups and downs, but I always find the inner strength to pull myself up. I was served lemons, but I made lemonade.” And thus, we see the album’s title come full circle.
The final and most recognized song of the album is “Formation.” Although not featured on its own within the visual album, “Formation” was originally released as a single months before Lemonade was released. Politically relevant, and even released during Black History Month, “Formation” is an ode to the power of black women and black culture. The significant imagery throughout the “Formation” music video, from the images of post-Katrina New Orleans to a child facing a SWAT team of police, is intended to send the message of resistance to brutality and unfair cultural oppression. Beyoncé references several parts of black identity for which she argues should be celebrated, and calls on women specifically to reclaim this power over identity when she says, “Ok ladies / Now let’s get in formation.” Formation, that is, to learn, grow, and succeed without losing who you are at heart.
Every part of Lemonade was constructed with a purpose. From the poetic verse, to the expressive lyrics, to each element of the visual album, it is impossible to walk away from the album without taking with you a sense of purpose. Beyoncé continually pushes not only her own musical and personal boundaries through this album, but also those of society. The vulnerability of Lemonade to expose the visceral aspects of human life and culture engages each listener—each viewer—to examine life a little more closely. The numerous lessons extended by Lemonade are memos that can apply to life at any stage, in any situation. One year later, and we still hold these ideas near to us. Surely, they will prolong into our future as well and will never become obsolete.