JayWood - Leo Negro
Royal Mountain Records
Released on September 5th, 2025
Eight brooding doppelgangers lounge across the enigmatic cover of the newest release from Winnipeg-turned-Montreal musician Jeremy Haywood-Smith. In Leo Negro, Jaywood embraces complexity, with lyrics that reflect on identity, belonging, and the psychological strain of one’s astrological sun, moon, and rising signs constantly butting heads with each other.
Throughout the eleven tracks, the genre-defying hip-hop artist explores his many sides, including his roles as a skilled creator, a performer competing for recognition, a community member seeking balance between individuality and connection, and a black man persevering against the associated obstacles and dangers.
Haywood-Smith’s competing/collaborating multitudes are cleverly expressed in the early single “Pistachios.” Moaning lead guitars emblazon interludes between rapped verses that elaborate on the two titular identities. For instance, “They don’t wanna see a star shine, I just wanna let my hair grow, always looking for attention, I admit it, I can’t help it I’m a Leo …”
A playful music video sees the various Jaywoods interacting at home—facing off at chess, reading the paper, consulting the tarot. In a press announcement, Haywood-Smith reflects: “It’s me at my most honest, but to approach the album like this I needed to write from different versions of myself. I’ve intentionally split the brain through each song, which has made it more cohesive than my scatterbrain music mentality of just writing everything I’m into and expecting it to make sense.”
Indeed, the album is cohesive not despite, but owing to, its wide-ranging textures and viewpoints. In “Assumptions,” auditory treats abound—snippets of Spanish-inflected guitar, backing vocals that drift between mumble, chant, and harmony, and an outro laden with frenetic key and feel shifts that snag the attention and volley the brain back and forth from academic interest to ADHD delight.
A line recurs: “Hi, how you doing, it’s good to meet ya. I’ve been going round in circles looking for completion. Cause I make assumptions, I’ll think up something …” Jaywood celebrates with ebullient hip-hop bravado his dreams and achievements while questioning his own assumptions and the assumptions of those who perceive him, but a mellower bridge asserts more explicitly the song’s central theme: imposter syndrome. (“Anxiety. Probably. A whole crew living inside of me … I’ve created a monster, last name The Imposter …”)
He tackles this demon with words of resilience directed toward others or himself: “I’m the captain gonna send you off, we eastbound. I’m your daddy I can teach you how to face crowds … And if you don’t know you’re special, see that’s fine. I wanna take you there.”
The album has an eclectic feel that always shies just short of cluttered; instead, the robust sonic palette and experimental elements give the impression of expansiveness, of a space large enough for collective voices to bounce around, or an internal space where one’s many inner voices can be acknowledged.
“Sun Baby,” which blends psych rock with understated pop vocals, is accompanied by a dreamy video that kicks off with a rotary phone ringing from where it sits whimsically in a grassy field. Jaywood channels his socially energetic sun sign as he’s initiated into a community of fellow summer revellers; it’s another dichotomy worth exploring in the journey toward individuation—self vs. other, the challenge to be neither entirely driven by one’s ego nor to lose oneself in the bliss of communion.
Interspersed throughout the pastoral and pleasantly culty outdoor scenes are haunting shots of the artist in a blank-faced mask, fleeing unseen enemies. Haywood-Smith finds the lens of astrology useful for expressing the conflicting forces within him: “My big three are made up of polar opposites. Leo being this leader with ‘look at me’ confidence, versus my moon being the shy, quiet artistic observer, and my rising trying to find balance between both of those things.” The masked outsider “represents my ego flaring up, trying to tear away at my softness … Growing over the years helped me to realize that being still and leaning into softness builds up your strength.”
The songs often marry R&B accessibility with compelling neo soul experimentation: “Big Tings” boasts a collab with prolific indie duo Tune-Yards, their spirited chaos complementing diversions into soupy bedroom pop; “Palma Wise” features tasteful synth and guitar work over tonal modulations worthy of a modern jazz composition; “Gratitude” buries it’s sensual lead vocals under layers of harmony, lo-fi beats, samples, and what sounds like a heavily-effected voicemail recording.
Leo Negro paints a portrait of a multifaceted artist who has grown over the course of his output, and provides a reminder that creating space to express the myriad aspects of oneself usually enables the best art-making. Here the result is an interesting and soulful album that is even greater than the sum of its parts.
