Since she was a teenager, Syd has sculpted the sound of alternative rap and R&B. At 16, she was the audio engineer, and eventual producer and DJ, of the pioneering Los Angeles rap collective Odd Future, which then launched Syd’s solo career and those of Frank Ocean, Tyler, the Creator, and Earl Sweatshirt. A few years later she started The Internet, whose ’70s funk-tinged style has since become a mainstay in indie R&B. She has also released two solo albums that mix trap-inflected soul and airy R&B, and worked as a producer for artists including Vince Staples and Beyoncé—all before hitting the latter half of her 30s.

But despite all her early career success, Syd considers herself a late bloomer. The label is partly musical: She spent years searching for her own sound and perspective as a musician after producing and songwriting for other artists. More broadly, she also needed time to understand and embody who she is at her core, to parse the social conditioning imposed on her as a Black queer woman from her inherent personality. Her latest album, Beard—named after the facial hair she’s learned to love—is the result of that process of self-examination and self-acceptance. There’s a compelling sincerity to Syd’s singing, a willingness to candidly and unselfconsciously pursue what she wants, acknowledge what she’s accomplished, and admit her flaws.

Whereas her first two albums are full of verve, curiosity, and desire, Beard exudes a sense of ease. The record emerged from a period of stability in Syd’s life; she wrote it shortly after quitting alcohol, getting married, and buying a house in her childhood neighborhood in Los Angeles. Sometimes that contentedness is stated literally, like on the athemic (if slightly platitudinal) closer “2 Many Days.” Her voice is crystalline and contemplative as she sings over a cinematic, swelling synth and drum arrangement. She reflects on how far she’s come and spells out the elements of her dream life—a swimming pool, a car with tinted windows, treating her mother with respect— making it clear that it’s all just within reach.

Other times, the equanimity comes from the pace at which the music unfurls: Syd produced or co-produced 10 of the 12 songs on the record, making the arrangements spacious, lush, and unhurried. “Walls,” which sounds a bit like the dewey ambience of Kelela’s Raven meeting the sonic left turns of L’Rain’s self-titled record, slows things down considerably. A meandering synth line leaves room for Syd’s vocals to dip from gossamer and ethereal to deep and honeyed as she ruminates on healing without losing herself and pursuing love throughout the process. When the synth and vocal harmonies hit an occasional dissonant note, it imbues the track with a sense of intrigue, a reminder that even with a more intentional mindset, there’s still plenty of room for the unexpected. Syd also broadens her range on Beard to include bossa nova: On the luminous track “My Love,” she divulges her feelings of protectiveness over a lover over a lilting guitar line and shimmering percussion. “At the drop of a dime,” she sings, “I’d give my life to show you my love.” There’s a collected, full-hearted sensuality to these songs, the sound of someone able to state exactly what she wants.

There are times when the tempo and atmospheric production veer on languid, and the latter half of the record drags a bit. “Any Time,” for example, is a perfectly satisfactory ballad but never turns unusual or energetic enough to be memorable on its own. On “Do Better,” Syd reckons with her depression and inability to show affection. The introspection adds emotional complexity to the record, but the lyrics remain fairly vague: “Your love was a blessing/Now it’s a weapon/Patience a virtue.” Sung over a melody that echos rather than progresses, it feels a bit generic.

Still, taken as a whole, Beard is a patient, poised document of self-knowledge gleaned over time—an album about love and desire that is rooted in a deep understanding of self.  “[My wife] likes my mustache,” Syd said in a recent interview. “I shaved it too low one time, and she was like, ‘Oh, ew. Oh my God.’ Like, I never thought I would get that.” On Beard, Syd sings with the assurance of someone who has found that kind of unconditional love, but who also knows how to cultivate it for herself.