Falling Or Flying

Jorja Smith’s Falling or Flying is a portrait of growth—confident, kaleidoscopic, and far less concerned with industry timelines than with truth. Arriving five years after her debut, it’s the sound of an artist who’s taken her time and knows exactly why.

Across the album’s 14 tracks, Smith swerves between smoky jazz, glitchy soul, and bassy funk-inflected house without ever losing her footing. The production—helmed mostly by DameDame—is fluid but minimal, allowing space for introspection and sharp emotional detail. Whether she’s gliding over the breezy defiance of “Try Me” or spiralling into late-night contemplation on “Greatest Gift”, she never overstates. There’s elegance in the restraint.

Lyrically, Smith treats each track like a moment frozen in time—an honest snapshot of messy relationships, faltering friendships, and fractured self-image. She sounds more centred than ever, but not always at peace. There’s a simmering tension under the surface—most vividly felt in the title track, a slow burn that flexes both vulnerability and power.

The album’s shape-shifting soundscape occasionally threatens its cohesion, but that fluidity feels like the point: Falling or Flying is about transition, and Smith leans into the ambiguity. “Feelings” and “Little Things” shimmer with club-ready energy, while “Broken Is the Man” pulls things inward again, intimate and raw.

It’s not an album chasing immediacy—it’s a patient, self-assured return from an artist who’s not afraid to sit in the grey space. And in doing so, Jorja Smith lands her most authentic work yet.