An underperforming generic R&B debut and a lead role in a direct-to-DVD Bring It On sequel suggested Solange was always going to play second best when it came to the battle of the Knowles sisters. But following the critical acclaim awarded to 2008’s Sol-Angel and the Hadley St. Dreams, her first EP, True, indicates that while Beyonce will always be the megastar, her younger sibling may surprisingly turn out to be the most musically interesting. Teaming up with maverick producer Dev Hynes, the seven-track release more than whets the appetite for a full-length affair later this year with a confessional series of 80s-tinged hipster-friendly soul-pop jams that are refreshingly devoid of the glitz and glamour you might expect. Here’s a look at five of its best lyrics.

Losing You

The track that made everyone sit up and realise that Mrs. Jay-Z may finally have some competition on her hands, lead single “Losing You” is an effortlessly dreamy classic-meets-contemporary R&B number which would possibly sit more comfortably on Madonna‘s The Immaculate Collection than it would Destiny’s Child‘s #1’s. Indeed, eschewing the bombast of her sister’s heartbreakers, Solange instead decides to play it cool, quietly mourning the slow demise of a relationship whilst struggling to hold on to the last bit of hope that it might be salvageable: [LISTEN]

Tell me the truth boy, am I losing you for good
We use to kiss all night but now it’s just no use
I don’t know why I fight it, clearly we are through
Tell me the truth boy, am I losing you for good

Some Things Never Seem To Fucking Work

Swapping the air of resignation on the previous number for a more attitude-laden sense of contempt, Solange implores her other half to buck up his ideas if he wants to remain in her bed on a slinky ultimatum which recalls Diana Ross at her glittery best. Unfortunately, the expletive title is far from the only sign of clumsiness, a wooden and stilted spoken-word middle-eight from Hynes only adding to the theory that his talents are best suited to behind the production desk than in front of it: [LISTEN]

So tell me, is it real love? Some kind of mistake
They made together that we couldn’t anticipate?
And my attraction to you may bother much worse
But it’s either something maybe
A longing and hattried of myself
But one or two end up alone

Lovers In The Parking Lot

Having played both the heartbroken victim and the feisty girlfriend-in-control, Solange adopts the kind of ‘playa’ role more associated with misogynistic rappers than a Vogue fashion icon on a spacious and strangely haunting mid-tempo. Her melancholic tones may imply that she regrets her promiscuous behaviour but the jury’s out over whether her pleas for forgiveness are genuine or whether it’s just another case of a tease only wanting what she can’t have: [LISTEN]

And maybe you loved me but I just up and wanted to run

Back and forth behind and down when you were in and I was out
Me chasing lovers in the front line of the parking lot
And baby I loved you but I was not done having my fun

Don’t Let Me Down

Displaying a vulnerability largely absent from the slightly detached ice queen persona that surrounds the record, Solange makes it abundantly clear that she’s in it for the long haul, virtually pleading with the object of her affections to be as enamoured about their relationship as she is. Thankfully, this air of desperation doesn’t spill over into the music, its combination of ghostly echo-laden guitar riffs, squelchy synths and booming beats producing a hypnotic four and a half minutes which even throws a nod to one of her sister’s biggest hits: [LISTEN]

Baby, we’ve got time for time to wait
I put you on the line, no choice to make
Running only slows you down the way
When every minute moving’s yours to take

Bad Girls

It’s hard to imagine Beyonce harmonizing about waking up in a bed that isn’t hers with makeup applied two days previously. But proving just how different they can be, Solange doesn’t shy away from recalling the morning after the night before. “Bad Girls” may sound like an homage to Phyllis Nelson’s old-school smoochie ballad “Move Closer,” but there’s little romance in its tale of two strangers agonizing over whether to extend their one night stand: [LISTEN]

The bed I woke up in, that’s not my own
The make-up I applied two days ago
The night I lost my phone on the way home
The taxi came, I don’t know where I’m going