Daniel Caesar has something to say about the way he grew up, but he has struggled with how best to say it.
Raised in a Seventh-Day Adventist household, his gospel-singer father ensured Caesar not only heard but lived the gospel.
As a teenager, Caesar had a falling out with his parents. He was briefly homeless. His rebellion widened the gap between his family. So he turned to the only thing he still had faith in: music.
Taking after his father’s preferred genre, Caesar quickly carved a niche in the R&B space.
On his initial albums, lyrics stayed cautious of religion and faith. Caesar instead focused on a trinity of shame, guilt, and doubt. He secured collaborations with similar faith-curious artists such as Justin Bieber and Bon Iver often touching on how materialism masks true longing.
But as the spotlight widened, his themes matured.
His fourth album, Son of Spergy, aims to recast his fatherly strife in a different light. He openly describes his reconciliation with his father (“Spergy” being his father’s nickname).
And it’s not the only estrangement that Caesar attempts to heal. Caesar channels his uncertainty surrounding faith into a winding narrative of restoration. He also meditates on modern opinions on masculinity, fatherhood, and self-worth.
Anyone who’s found true restoration knows it takes wading through murky and troubling waters to finally arrive. As Caesar embraces this journey, he prepares to unravel his connection to the man who made him who he is today.
Caesar fashions “Baby Blue” in the tradition of R&B classics, swooning over his lover with hope and awe. He sings, “Some days I feel blue too/But when I look at you/My melancholy dissipates.”
The song also contains an outro setting Jesus’ death and resurrection as the backdrop of Caesar’s love. “Jesus paid for all our sins/On Calvary’s cross, He bled and died/Is there greater love than this?/What good have I done to/Deserve His love/This awesome love to me?/Can you feel His love?”
Caesar opens the album with “Rain Down,” proclaiming the Lord’s blessings over his life. He repeats the refrain, “Rain down, Lord, rain down on me/Your blood is all I need.”
On “Call on Me” Caesar persuades his lover that she can depend on him to provide and protect. He croons, “Whenever you feel your pockets empty/You can call on me.”
“Touching God” exposes the duality of our existence. In one breath Caesar praises God for creating him and this life. In the next, he bemoans his life when things turn for the worse. At the song’s conclusion, the outro shifts into familiarity: Oh Lord/Thy Kingdom Come/Yes, you’re an awesome God/Thy will be done.”
“Sign Of The Times” is Caesar at his most direct and rebellious in conversation with God. His topics are marriage and starting a family. But the flavor shades vulgar.
He sings, “I think it’s finally ’bout that time, a n—- nearly 30” and “I was chasing ’round my f—— lady like a sycophant/But you brought me up and out of Egypt with your single hand.”
The song’s power of honest conversations with God ultimately turns muted as his profane prayer misses the point.
“No More Loving (On Women I Don’t Love)” grinds the religious flow to a halt. It’s rare for a song to echo Psalm 23 and carry half a dozen f-words, but such are the contrasts of Daniel Caesar.
He sings, “No more loving on women I don’t love
F— these power-tripping n—– that be lying on God above.”
“Have a Baby (With Me)” lands on Caesar’s morally confused side of his songwriting. He clearly longs for love and fatherhood, but he misplaces his yearning. He sings, “There’s no time to believe in what could be/Have a baby with me.” His insistence borders on manipulative and forceful.
On “Root Of All Evil” Caesar grapples with his nameless sin. He questions himself, “Am I a man or a beast?/Somebody please discipline me/For I’m a sinner, a sinner.” His admission keeps the details vague as he sings, “I know I should stay away but I can’t/I’m too drawn to the evil.”
“Moon” serves as a desperate call for someone to save Caesar from a loveless life. He conflates his heartache with true salvation with the repeated line: “Who’s gonna be my Jesus? Pull up on a cloud.”
“Emily’s Song” contains an f-word as he describes the back-and-forth of a relationship on the ropes. Similarly, “Sins Of The Father” carries an f-word in Caesar’s recounting of his father’s letdowns in his early life.
Ashton Simmonds chose the stage name Daniel Caesar from two contrasting influences. And for some, the combination of Roman dictator Julius Caesar and the lowly prisoner-turned-prophet Daniel may seem curious.
But to Caesar, the historical duo shares more in common than people think.
His twisting musical religiosity mirrors the soulful emotion of Daniel’s story in the Bible. His focus on betrayal and unrequited love molds in the image of Emperor Caesar’s historic downfall.
Son of Spergy swaps these swirling portrayals for a focus on understanding his family history.
Caesar’s rippling voice and elegant rhythms serve as the album’s backbone. Lyrics aside, listening to Son of Spergy could certainly serve as a pure musical delicacy on its own. But Caesar wants to take the listener deeper.
Stripped of their sound, Caesar’s lyrics read as prayers crackling with the electricity of a soul still searching.
It’s no coincidence that the album’s most repeated word is “Father.” It’s blurry at best if Caesar is speaking to his earthly or heavenly father, which is Caesar’s most intentional and magnetic choice.
When our earthly fathers fail us, where do we turn?
Caesar claims he’s reconciled with his father as he grapples with his growing desire to become a father himself. Still, venom floats to the surface in prayers trending more wounded than healed and more vengeful than peaceful.
Listeners asking similar questions and locating temporary doubt in their faith may identify with this stop in Caesar’s journey. But in staying too long, they risk stagnation and a fixation on the profane expression of emotion at the expense of moving forward on the journey toward lasting renewal.
Jackson Greer is a High School English Teacher in the suburbs of Texas. He lives in Coppell, Texas with his wife, Clara. They love debating whether or not to get another cat and reading poetry together. Also, he is a former employee of Focus on the Family’s Parenting Department.
