Prayer often asks for one thing. LOV’s G.O.S operates in another way. She’s not requesting divine intervention a lot as reminding you what’s already been deposited in your bloodline, ready for withdrawal.
The Edmonton artist, born Lovina Tootoosis and raised on Poundmaker Cree Nation in Saskatchewan, positions herself much less as a supplicant and extra as a witness to inherited wealth, naming property that predate her and had been by no means hers alone to say.
What separates this from the deluge of empowerment anthems at present saturating playlists is specificity.
LOV names her Kokum, her mom, your complete matriarchal lineage of Plains Cree girls who carried weight so she wouldn’t should bear it alone.
Her wealthy velvet voice drapes itself throughout the atmospheric manufacturing like smoke by means of daylight, and it’s the type of vocal efficiency that stops you mid-scroll.
There’s heat right here that feels earned. Heat brass bleeds into languorous keys, creating the form of afternoon haze you wish to sink into and keep.
The backdrop is atmospheric and dreamy, all mild tone washes, drums and delicate sax punctuation that lands precisely when your chest wants it.
These golden-hour textures shimmer with a hazy, windows-down high quality that makes the “driving with wind in your hair” comparability really feel much less like cliché and extra like inevitability.
However beneath that summer time ease sits one thing extra pressing: a survival guide disguised as a soundtrack for higher days.
The bridge, the place she repeats “generations of power,” hits totally different every time. It’s the road you’ll catch your self whispering again whenever you want steadying.
The manufacturing sits in that exact pocket between contemplation and motion, laid-back sufficient to trick you into pondering you’re simply vibing whenever you’re really being rebuilt from the within.
LOV isn’t asserting power a lot as passing it alongside, the tune appearing as relay moderately than sermon. The ability doesn’t originate together with her. It strikes by means of her, and when you let it, by means of you too.
What G.O.S. in the end reframes is inheritance itself. Not as trauma to unpack, however as armour already fitted.
The tune doesn’t insist you’re robust. It reminds you that power was by no means yours to seek out, as a result of it’s been yours by birthright, stacked patiently by the ladies who got here earlier than, ready for the second you’d want it.
And someday after the second hear, you realise it’s now not taking part in within the room – it’s holding you collectively.
