Illustration by Meaghan Garvey
If you call 773-779-5683, it’ll ring, then: "Sorry, the mailbox is full, and there is not enough space to leave a message." It’s been that way since August 2012, when Late Nights with Jeremih fell from the sky and became the quintessential R&B project of the 2010s. "Won’t you call 773-779-LOVE?" Jeremih Felton sweetly requested on the Mike WiLL-produced ode to Chicago’s area code, "773 Love". And I have, every six months or so since—just to check, though nothing different has happened yet. Apparently it’s some poor woman’s land line; when I spoke with Jeremih late last summer, as he prepared for the initial September release date of Late Nights: The Album, he said he’d made several offers to buy the number off her, but she declined. You have to wonder what’s in it for her, screening calls from thirsty fans for two and a half years, her voicemail totally fucked, gathering dust. It’s not far off from the fate of Late Nights: The Album, his third for Def Jam, the release date of which was pushed back to November, then shrugged off altogether.
In January, Jeremih tweeted a SoundCloud link to his new single, "Planes", responding to a leak of an unfinished version. Within minutes, the link had disappeared, suggesting the tensions between Jeremih and his label were still unresolved. It’s meant to be the album intro, as he explained it back in July, and a woman’s voice references Thumpy Johnson, the album’s intended title when it was announced back in 2013. Still, it’s gorgeous, with a beat from Boi-1da protege Vinylz that sounds like light piercing through clouds, the exact kind of diaphanous canvas Jeremih needs to thrive. Ignore the unmentionable J. Cole verse—better yet, dream of a world where the original version featuring Chance the Rapper wasn’t too much of a "gamble"—and it’s one of the best R&B songs of the year.
So what gives? There is no viable reason Def Jam should be so gun-shy with Late Nights: The Album. Its first single "Don’t Tell ‘Em", released almost a year ago, became the third platinum-certified single of his career before it even got a music video. At Sunday’s iHeartRadio Music Awards, the YG-featuring hit beat two Beyoncé songs and two Chris Brown songs (I dunno, man) to win Hip Hop/R&B Song of the Year—a baffling category at a presumably made-up awards show, but still! You’d never know Jeremih was stuck in label purgatory based on his success as a featured vocalist in the past year. He was all over The Pinkprint, featured on 2014 singles from French Montana, Wale, and DJ Khaled, and is currently charting for his contributions to Dutch newcomer Natalie La Rose’s breakout single "Somebody", which is as endearing as a song containing an interpolative fusion of Whitney Houston and LMFAO is allowed to be on general principle. He still manages to pop up on smaller-scale records from hometown heroes, too—Tink’s stellar "Don’t Tell Nobody", still unreleased, or Lil Durk’s latest "Like Me".
The "773 Love" stuff isn’t just to be cute: Chicago has been Jeremih’s foundation since day one. "Birthday Sex" was buzzing locally before Def Jam scooped him up in 2009, initially premiering on WGCI the year before; even R. Kelly did an unofficial remix. But when Late Nights dropped—a free 18-track mixtape, unannounced (before it was cool) and hosted by DJ Drama and Kanye’s old pal DJ Pharris—the city felt like it was buzzing with a new energy, only intensifying the restless mischief that hangs over the last stretch of Summertime Chi. At my regular nail spot in Pilsen, it would play in full as I overheard women gossiping about how they knew Jeremih’s girlfriend. 2012 had already proven to be a landmark year for Chicago rap, but I hadn’t felt so hopeful about Chicago R&B in ages.
The cult of Late Nights built slowly. A lot of the adoration has been retroactive; Jeremih fandom on Internet media didn’t seem to fully percolate until his Shlohmo collaboration, "Bo Peep", in early 2013. Most initial responses went something like, "Lol, the ‘Birthday Sex’ dude?" Jeremih’s 2009 debut single was easily his most recognizable, but it’s been more of a curse than anything. The gist: "Hey girl, happy birthday. I know you wanted flowers or cake or any sign of effort on my behalf, but instead I got you this dick and some crappy metaphors about boxing. Enjoy!" The song is catchy but dumb on a timeless, all-encompassing level—so dumb it will inevitably last forever on this wack earth where men will always suck and birthdays will keep happening until you die—and Jeremih knew it from the jump. In a candid Billboard feature this winter, he disowned his stifling early career: "It never felt right. ‘Down On Me’ can’t showcase my true talent. ‘Birthday Sex’ was robotic." And he’s been saying that stuff all along, though a little more politely. In a 2009 interview with MTV, he was already diverting attention from the hit. "I wouldn’t say it’s my favorite song on the album," he demurred. "It just was chosen first."
Keep in mind that this is a guy, now 27, who’s been playing drums since he was three, teaching himself rhythm by playing along with the radio. He took up saxophone and piano and branched out percussion-wise to congas and timbales, switching between his South Side high school’s Latin jazz and marching bands before graduating early at 16. He didn’t even realize he could sing til college, which could begin to explain the unshowy nature of his voice. Late Nights, Jeremih’s quiet rebellion against major label suffocation, landed smack in the middle of a year marked by blockbuster releases from R&B auteurs. That’s not Jeremih’s game—nor, thankfully, is the "alternative R&B" lane, as demonstrated by No More, his underwhelming collaborative EP with Shlohmo last year. At his best, he operates within the same narrow intersection of radio trends and more graceful compositional impulses as Ty Dolla $ign, another highly-trained purveyor of high-end ratchet-&-b. But Ty’s worked his way from behind the scenes into radio ubiquity; Jeremih’s working in reverse.
It’s easy to place blame on Def Jam for serially mishandling Jeremih’s career, but he’s not faultless himself. There was the Fuddrucker’s incident last November, where he and his touring entourage reportedly caused $700 worth of damage to a Billings, Mont. restaurant; a month later, he was charged with disorderly conduct for attempting to break on board a departing flight. But he’s admitted that the drama was a direct manifestation of the emotional turmoil from an ongoing court case with his two year old son’s mother. The trial ended in his favor, and he seems ready to do this thing for real. It doesn’t take much more than flipping on the radio in the past year to prove that Jeremih is indisputably A Thing by now, and the never entirely accurate "one hit wonder" designation has been officially put to bed. But as Jeremih waits for Def Jam’s signal, Chris Brown, Kid Ink, and Omarion are cashing out on the slick, '90s-nodding Nic Nac/DJ Mustard sounds dominating dude-R&B that Jeremih pulled off flawlessly on "Don’t Tell ‘Em". All we’re waiting on now is Def Jam—who have yet to set a Late Nights: The Album release date but managed to release two aggressively average Rick Ross LPs in 2014—to get the memo. Maybe their voicemail’s full.