Khamari Reveals How Jeff Buckley & D’Angelo Inspired His New ‘To Dry a Tear’ LP: ‘I Don’t Want It to Be Perfect’

“It’s hard singing about s—t that feels sad,” says Khamari. And with buzzy, somber tracks ranging from 2021’s “Doctor, My Eyes” to this year’s triumvirate of To Dry a Tear pre-release singles comprising the bulk of his catalog, Khamari knows a thing or two about sadness. 

After officially debuting with 2020’s Eldorado EP, scoring an Usher placement with the R&B icon’s Marshmello-assisted “Too Much” and sharing a stream of follow-up singles, the Boston-born, Los Angeles-based singer-songwriter unleashed his debut studio album in 2023. Titled A Brief Nirvana, Khamari’s RCA Records debut announced the arrival of a new, strikingly post-Frank Ocean rising R&B star. Armed with classical training and a Berklee College of Music background, a beautifully forlorn falsetto that explores everything from existentialism to mortality and a wide range of genre-agnostic influences, Khamari primarily operates in the blues lane of R&B, while never forsaking his contemporary approach to narrative songwriting. 

Last winter, Khamari parted ways with RCA, citing creative differences, and joined forces with independent record label Encore Recordings ahead of his new full-length, the enrapturing To Dry a Tear. Introduced by singles such as “Head in a Jar,” “Sycamore Tree” and “Lonely in the Jungle,” Khamari’s sophomore album distills two years of life experience into 11 incredibly lush and seamlessly sequenced tracks. Across the album, Khamari gets introspective regarding withering romances, crises of faith and the frustrating allure of distance. Pulling from D’Angelo’s “Untitled” and the understated drama of Jeff Buckley, To Dry a Tear finds Khamari building on the sampling innovations of his debut, while reaching new heights as both producer and arranger. 

“A lot of the things I was aiming for on this project were an imperfect version of something already,” he tells Billboard. “When I listen to D’Angelo or Jeff Buckley, none of that s—t is perfect. It’s a very raw version of what they had in their head, and it’s a very musical, dramatic emotion they experienced. Trying to translate that into something today can be difficult in terms of production style, but that’s definitely something that I fought for. I don’t want it to be perfect; I just want it to be this version of imperfect.” 

Below, Khamari discusses crafting his sophomore LP, parting ways with RCA and the rise of rock influences in contemporary R&B.

Was there a particular song that signaled to you that you were headed towards a new album? 

Every song is so individual in the creative process that there wasn’t one song that was [clearly] the centerpiece. There were definitely dope moments along the way, like writing “Lonely in the Jungle” and “Sycamore Tree” and “Lord, Forgive Me” and “Acres.” Those were such specific moments that I was like, “This is definitely going to be a part of whatever I do.” 

Who did you most closely work with to bring this album to life? 

My collaborators are still similar to the [Brief Nirvana cast, including production duo Trackside]. I brought in a lot of my musician homies and my music director, Q, to help me flesh out ideas that I started in my bedroom. I play a lot of keys on the album, as well as guitar. I’m also leading the production that ties everything together. I play bass on “Lonely in the Jungle” too. I had a hand in all of the parts for songs like “Lonely” and “Lord, Forgive Me,” even if I didn’t play them myself. 

How would you compare the experience of creating a project driven by samples to one that’s not? 

With samples, you have to be respectful of the [original record’s] history and context. You’re thinking about where everything came from, what it was a part of, and what it meant to other people and how it feels. With original music, starting from scratch is so dope because it’s a blank slate, and the possibilities are endless.  

But that’s also why it’s hard. You’re making sure the parts don’t just feel good musically, you’re also ensuring they feel tightly knit enough that they’re memorable for anyone that’s not a music head. It’s daunting to try and find a very distilled version of something that feels musical and is still very original, given that everything’s already been done. 

You flip D’Angelo’s “Untitled (How Does It Feel)” on “Sycamore Tree.” Is there added pressure when you’re messing with a song of that magnitude? 

I didn’t run into that. I genuinely try not to put out things that I don’t love. I obviously respect the history of D’Angelo and what he’s done for R&B music, so when something like that comes up, I’m like, “This is a part of my history too.” It’s a part of my inspiration and my process. I’ve listened to it as many times as my parents; it’s in my blood. I don’t feel pressure in that way — but there’s definitely that moment when you hope he or whoever is going to clear the song hears that I’m trying to pay homage. 

Jeff Buckley is also a major influence on this album’s sound. What drew you to his music?  

I’m always looking for inspiration outside of what other people who look and sound like me would be inspired by. Jeff Buckley was it for me. He came up in conversation with my manager, and I listened to him one day, and I was like, “How the f—k did you not put me onto this s—t earlier?” 

I love Red Hot Chili Peppers and The Strokes and alternative rock, but [Buckley] was one person I’d never heard before. There’s such drama in his music, voice, and even his guitar-playing. He plays so gently, but he’s also very aggressive in the same way that there’s drama in a Kanye album. I was able to really appreciate that and figure out how to bring some of that into what I do. 

What was the most difficult song for you to land on a final mix for? 

All of them. [Laughs.] If you ask me, the mixes still aren’t done. There are songs that took longer than others because there’s more going on in them. “Sycamore Tree” and “Lonely” were the two songs I had the most versions of. If I were given more time, I would change a lot. 

A lot of people think I’m an artist who never stops working on a project — and I kind of fell into that thinking that about myself, too. As creatives, we feel like the thing to say is that we’re hard to please. Sometimes, it’s just that you know things aren’t right, but you don’t know how to navigate yourself to that place of rightness. More and more, I realize that I do actually know what’s right. I’m also very aware that I can’t always be the executor who gets it across that finish line. I don’t think I’m unpleasable, and would work on an album forever, but I do recognize when things don’t feel the way I feel. It’s a balance. 

It feels like we’re hearing more R&B songs with rock sensibilities penetrating the mainstream this year. Why do you think that might be?  

I think about that all the time. I’m not an anthropologist, but music is always reflective of the culture. It’s self-expression, so it’s going to mirror what’s going on in our lives. We’re all anxious. I look at [Playboi] Carti, and that’s the new rock to me.  

People want more for themselves. Whether it’s because of our phones, the way we digest things or how much we’re pushed to consume things, people want to express themselves more. They don’t want to be told what to do. Not just in the U.S., but in the world, we’re all internally anxious and looking for a way to release this thing that’s bubbling inside of us.

The instrumental arrangements got the same level of care as the vocals and lyrics on this project. Why was that important to you?  

There are so many people who are dope musicians. I went to Berklee [College of Music], I did the whole thing, and I wanted to be that person. But I realized there’s a difference between being a good musician and being a producer, knowing how to make a record, and knowing how to make something palatable enough for people who aren’t musicians to appreciate. That was a skill that I had to really work on to develop, because otherwise this s—t can get crazy, musically.  

I was actively cognizant of how I could distill this moment, and that was through repetition and fine-tuning phrasing and instrumental arrangements. Does the music evolve or loop? Does the topline then evolve to better serve the chorus? I didn’t want the musicality to be so broad and engrossing that it became distracting. That’s what movie scores or operas are for. 

When people hear music, they don’t necessarily want to hear how talented the musicians are. As a musician, I do — but people want to move more than they want to listen. They want to feel things. They aren’t necessarily like, “Oh my God, that bassline is crazy!” There are so many artists and songwriters who are top-tier musicians of our lifetimes, but the musicality has to stick out like an extension of the songwriting.  

Nina Simone understood that; she was a pianist, but her instrument was the song. I’m trying to grow more in that direction. I’ll just pick up instruments as they feel right, and if it’s the right way to tell the story, not necessarily, so I can be flashy. 

To Dry a Tear really emphasizes the “blues” in “rhythm and blues” and explores that side of the genre beyond love and romance. Was that intentional? 

100%. I wanted this project to feel more narrative than my last one. On earlier projects, I wanted to get out of the box that I put myself in, which was writing love songs. I was tired of writing love songs and things that I felt people expected from me. My manager once told me that whether you’re writing about something you hate or something you love, everything’s about love. That’s why I gravitate to writers like Frank [Ocean], SZA, The Weeknd and Kendrick [Lamar], because they write about love through subjects you wouldn’t expect. 

On El Dorado, I was searching for that place. On A Brief Nirvana, I was looking for a moment of peace. To Dry a Tear is coming from a narrative perspective because it’s about being present. Instead of wanting more and wishing you were somewhere else, it’s about standing still, acknowledging life, and telling those stories. 

When did you part ways with RCA? What led to that decision? 

[Winter 2024]. It’s difficult. A business has to make business decisions, and, as an artist, I try to make decisions based on what I think is right for the art. Sometimes, that may not align with what the expectations are for a business partner. It’s all love. It’s all about the team. 

When did you partner with Encore? What made that decision feel right? 

This partnership fell into place around January, soon after [I parted ways with RCA]. I felt like they understood me and what I want to achieve — and, most importantly, the way I want to achieve them. It doesn’t matter if you become the biggest artist in the world if you end up not being the artist you want to be. [Encore Recordings president] Ned [Monahan], who’s on my team, was one of my biggest early supporters. 

When I put out El Dorado and we got a random top 15 spot on the New Music Friday , before I had any real editorial placements, even though I was on RCA at the time, Ned gave us that shot. He’s at Encore now, so it’s a cool full-circle moment that made the decision to partner a no-brainer. You want people who have seen you grow throughout the years and still want to be a part of that. 

If you turned To Dry a Tear into a movie, who would direct and who would star? 

I gotta go with Denzel [Washington]. One of my favorite directors is Christopher Nolan, because he’s got such a f—king twisted way of telling a story. He’ll start in one place, and you think it’s going this way, and then it’s a zigzag that brings you back to some place that was kind of adjacent to where you expected, but equally as refreshing.