On Through the Wall, Rochelle Jordan embodies the after-hours diva—poised, assured, and entirely in control. She moves with the finesse of Janet Jackson and the composure of Diana Ross: big hair, dim lights, diamonds glinting in the shadows. “Don’t be afraid to take up space,” she urges at the opening of “On 2 Something,” and across 17 velvety tracks, she follows her own advice. The record exudes intimacy and luxury, unfolding like a late-night lounge where the velvet rope quietly unhooks. Here, dance music is a sanctuary of composure and desire, and pop is the vessel that carries you through it.
Jordan’s 2021 album Play With the Changes reintroduced her to a crowded scene, bursting with ideas and ambition. Through the Wall feels like its graceful exhale. The tempos glide, the drums are carved to perfection, and her voice—low, cool, effortlessly confident—saves its silkiest falsetto for moments of escape. With this third album, Jordan makes a strong case for mid-tempo dance music that seduces rather than explodes. Her songs don’t chase eccentricity; they linger, drawing you closer until you’re breathing the same smoke. While the record recalls ’90s R&B dance icons like Janet, it also fits alongside modern groove-makers such as Jessie Ware, Amber Mark, and Victoria Monét.
Rather than reinvent herself, the British-Canadian artist refines her craft to a mirror shine. Through the Wall is a pop-forward, late-night dance record for people who move as thoughtfully as they think. Jordan doubles down on her signature blend—house music polished with pop precision and R&B soul—proving that refinement can be its own kind of risk. The thrill lies not in shock but in clarity: elegant tempos, lush hooks, and vocals that prize control over spectacle. Where peers like Kelela, Dawn Richard, or FKA twigs bend genres until they break, Jordan keeps the groove steady, winning through grace and consistency.
Her power lies in subtlety. Jordan doesn’t belt—she breathes. Every phrase carries heat through precision rather than volume. On the shimmering “Sweet Sensation,” she drifts from Brandy-like runs into something quieter and more self-possessed. “Crave,” produced by Chicago house veteran Terry Hunter, finds her strutting confidently through a groove that honors the roots of club music—movement as emotion. Tracks like “Crave,” “TTW,” and “Sum” pulse with four-to-the-floor rhythms meant for slow, deliberate motion rather than frenzy.
The album’s shine is as much about curation as performance. Jordan doesn’t just collaborate—she connects the global threads of dance culture: Chicago and Detroit house, UK garage, and sleek electro-pop. “Bite the Bait,” with Jimmy Edgar’s chrome production, lets her voice glide like gloss. “Around” taps into producer Hamdi’s UK bass sensibility, with Jordan floating confidently above the low end. On “I’m Your Muse,” over KLSH and Machinedrum’s smooth kick, she blurs command and invitation, purring, “Just say you love me / Say you use me / Say you’re feening.” Elsewhere, KLSH’s clean production (“Ladida,” “Never Enough”) and Machinedrum and WaveIQ’s bounce on “On 2 Something” give her room to flirt between lines. Every choice feels lived-in, not imitated; her voice remains the constant center of gravity.
Listeners seeking chaos or rupture may find Through the Wall too contained, waiting for cracks that never come. But that restraint is the point. Jordan turns control into seduction, showing that command can be quiet and confidence can whisper. She’s long balanced sultry R&B and UK dance energy, but here she sounds completely at ease—serene in the storm. Through the Wall may not shout for attention, yet by 2 a.m., when only the real ones are still dancing, it’s the record that feels just right.
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