Kenny Sharp operates effortlessly on “Flesh & Blood”, and it flows with a velvet-spic Mtv/in-a-dark-room quality. There is some unspoken lushness in this record—it wraps its arms around the listener with an R&B-infused pulse and just as tactile basslines soaked in funk. The telegraphy of Sharp's voice, honeyed and raw at once, gets you to the precipice of his exposed nerve: a croon so awestruck as though this counterpart might just be some ethereal thing inhumanly distant. The way this divine muse is placed with the artist's earthly form ("That I am...just flesh and blood") resonates so emotionally, it goes beyond melody. Every lyric echoes longing, soaked through with that bittersweet sensation of love idolized and unwarranted. It's the sort of song that makes you sit up and take notice; your heartbeat is practically aligned with its rhythm by default—it has incredible soulushima vibes. Not so much a song but an elegant caress of the sonic form, "Flesh & Blood" is a seductive slow dance of desire and doubt that plays back long after the fading notes.

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