This one is a letter to a city and a time that can't be recovered. Caesar and Mustafa trade verses over a spare, choir-lit arrangement, both of them writing from scar tissue. The production breathes slowly — no rush, no tricks. Mustafa's spoken-word cadence grounds it while Caesar's falsetto stretches the grief upward. Keep an ear on both of these artists building something larger than a feature.
Daniel Caesar, Mustafa