What constitutes an artistic flop? Money spent versus money earned? Intent versus interpretation? Critical acclaim versus critical condemnation? 

If you’re waants, you’re declaring your own FLOP ERA before anyone else has a chance to. And redefining the concept on your own terms. 

On the followup to 2021’s introspective summer soundtrack Love U Forever, waants (aka Adam Warren) takes a wildly different approach, featuring young pop performers on five out of seven tracks, saving his feelings for the in-between spaces. It’s utterly contemporary, the moment, the vibe.

After spending many meticulous, lonely months making his first album, Warren longed for the collaboration he was used to as the leader of Halifax rock quartet Glory Glory, and in his producer capacity for the likes of Sundae Girl. So he called on two rising hip-hop artists—teenage phenom Kye Clayton and the in-demand Yohvn Blvck—and indie-pop star Keeper E. to contribute to the album, imbuing his usual crisp, melodic production with flashy rap verses, glass-rattling beats, and hooks for days. (FLOP ERA? Hardly.) This infusion of new energy created a freedom in the music—less method, more feeling, capturing the spirit of collaborative creation as opposed to overthinking it alone.

Through this music, Warren allowed himself to interrogate the darker, more selfish, nihilistic tendencies that dominated his pandemic time—most of his own vocals have been autotuned away from his normally pleasant timbre into distorted, gloomy refrains. The guests offer wildly variant moods: Confusion and regret colour the opener “I Make It Easy” (with Clayton and Blvck); the pair offers swagger and lust on the 70s funk-leaning “Better Off.” The 72-second “If You Only Knew” is a gentle hinge for the collection, a laid-bare ballad that marks the only time just Warren’s voice and piano appear on a track. The quiet is immediately shaken by the buoyant “Talking About U,” featuring a growling rap from Blvck in between synth-laden choruses. Keeper E appears with her trademark anxiety on the ironically danceable “Just Can’t Get Out of Bed”: “I really don’t want you to hurry / please just don’t wait for me.”

FLOP ERA’s closer, which unlike most songs that are born from a lyric or melody, began with its cheeky title—“Party Like We’re In Love”—is waants on his own, singing over a droning synth and ominously dark, cinematic beat, leaning into an airy, woozy Weeknd-esque vocal line: “It’s so easy to be difficult,” he laments, half a boast, half an apology. The album ends on a note both forlorn and fuck-it: “You say that you’re done, all my habits too much. But let’s party like we’re still in love.” It’s the perfect mood for this pandemic era—itself, one might say, a flop. The era, then, is what you make it.