Written by Julia Harumi Kudo
“Pollen,” composed by Asher, Areli, and Juicingjuicy, is a rumination on a song in which they refuse a memory to be simply remembered. Thus, they go and breathe it all over again, even when it stings. The song turns with the slow, circular logic that endings and beginnings are trick mirrors than stages of the same cycle, and where longing for someone, like pollen, is both natural and difficult to resist. Realized on a skeletal chill-hop rhythm and clad with the flexibilities of Neo-Soul, the trio somberly revels inside the Petri dish of modern R&B, with Asher and Areli’s production leaning towards texture rather than structure. With organic patience, the guitar arrives almost unbeknownst, while the synths forage underneath with velvet layers perpetually glued to the mix. And yet, for all its fawning, there’s something vaguely obscured here. The vocals are often fractionally veiled; phrases fade into texture, and you notice yourself feeling the words first before even fully understanding them. It’s a little frustrating to be able to catch the fragments of the yearning spiel enough to know there’s an intention, but not enough to withhold it fully. But when the song chooses to reveal itself—“I need, I need you so”—it does so with a startling clarity that it almost feels sacramental as if that line alone is intentionally meant to survive the haze and the rest belongs to someone else.
Drawing from the title alone, “Pollen” alludes to a collapse—fallen, yes, but also feathered, dispersed, made airborne. The word blushes a little and hides inside itself: to fall in love again, to have already fallen apart, and to still be suspended somewhere in between. And just like pollen, the pining in the song acts like a natural phenomenon. Our body resists even as it needs, pure animal instinct. Areli gets back to this contradiction without resolving it: desire shaking hands with dependency, tenderness going up against doom. “I don’t trust the time when you’re not around / I’m fallin’ apart again.” It sounds simple and almost childlike, but such straightforwardness is what allows us to let our human sensibilities feel, and that’s the closest we can get to being nearly transformed. We’d be neither healed nor broken, but airborne.
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