Teyana Taylor's Great 'Escape'

On her new album "Escape Room," the award-winning multi-hyphenate survives the hellish flames of heartbreak to emerge from the other side healed and whole.

It’s been five excruciating years since Teyana Taylor last descended from the heavens with a studio album in tow. But not only has she miraculously returned to the spotlight after extinguishing her pursuit of new music—she’s been reborn.

Her exodus—the culmination of years of frustrations with her record label and, perhaps, the diminishing grip on sanity displayed by its not-so-G.O.O.D. overlord—was gruesome. Yes, she flirted with a Rick Ross feature and got “Closer to God” for Diddy prior to his incarceration, but another “K.T.S.E.” felt like a pipe dream.

Then life happened.

Daughter No. 2, Rue Rose, was born during the pandemic, and a contentious divorce from Rue’s father—retired NBA star Iman Shumpert—soon followed. Taylor insists that her triumphant return to music is a byproduct of the newly unleashed creative control that has long eluded her, but the candor and vulnerability woven throughout her latest venture, “Escape Room,” implies otherwise.

On the opening salvo, Taraji P. Henson warns that “flames are greedy things.” And over the course of the next 47 minutes, spread out over a cornucopia of impassioned pleas, carnal affirmations, and fiery diatribes—many of which are brought to life by a who’s who of Issa Rae, Jill Scott, and other celebrity crushes—it becomes abundantly clear that Teyana’s been through the fire. More specifically, she’s survived the hellish flames of heartbreak and emerged from the other side healed and whole.

This enduring quest for closure is best exemplified in standouts like “Long Time,” where the “A Thousand and One” star admits, “I lent you my fire,” and that she “should've been walked out this bitch.”

This theme is further explored in her accompanying short film—released in partnership with Amazon Music, also titled “Escape Room”—providing the award-winning director with the proper conduit to wear her wounds and anesthetize her pain. Draped in a red trenchcoat emblazoned with literal flames, she prowls through what remains of her forlorn marriage, bemoaning the infallible covenant she once shared with Shumpert.

“It's cold outside, but inside I'm on fire,” she sneers. “I fight with no resistance, fuck you and your existence.”

But while “Escape Room” provides Teyana with a canvas to convey what once was, her textured mezzo-soprano surmounts those same flames to champion her new beau, Aaron Pierre, with whom she credits with “damn near” executive producing her latest body of work.

“He’s so on top of it and so involved and so passionate in regards to the album,” she told GQ. “He would be like, ‘Oh, yeah, that melody right there? That was fire.’ I’m like, ‘Thank you. I thought nobody was going to notice that.’”

Casual fans will inevitably point to Beyoncé’s “Lemonade”—or even Marvin Gaye’s “Here, My Dear”—as the impetus for “Escape Room”’s creation. But Teyana’s fourth studio album is anything but a thematic retread. It’s equal parts sorrow and solace: It’s anguish usurped by jubilee.

And much like the phoenix that rose from the ashes, reincarnation has never sounded better.