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Wonho
Highline Entertainment“In English, when one says ‘I feel blue’, the word ‘blue’ is used [to describe feeling depressed or sad],” Wonho told NME in an interview ahead of the release of his third mini-album ‘Blue Letter’. “I wanted ‘blue’ to serve a double meaning of ‘feeling blue’ and… to flip the meaning of feeling blue to ‘feeling loved’, in context of the album.”
Just as there are many different shades of blue, with this record Wonho takes our immediate emotional associations with the hue and beautifully expands the palette. It’s a soul-stirring, sensitive release that gently shifts between shimmering celebrations to reassuring moments of encouragement and emotional vulnerability, each tone standing out in its own distinct way.
On the title track ‘Blue’, the singer is in jubilant mood. “I’m drowning down into the blue,” he begins over ticking percussion and a rubbery bassline, but this isn’t a dive into melancholia. “It feels amazing / Swimming high up to the sky, am I going crazy?” The hook that drops by later, effortlessly infectious and nonchalantly feel-good, bottles the sparkling mood of the song in a great earworm: “We are young, we are dumb / We just party all night long / When you feel the blue.”
The intro track, ‘Seasons And Patterns’, is uplifting in a different way, the instrumental two-minute fragment sounding as if it’s ushering us into Wonho’s own K-drama. Twinkling piano weaves around soaring strings that take you gliding through a sun-dazzled sky. The gently euphoric electronics of ’24/7’, meanwhile, find the star mixing shades, swirling synth-y optimism with lyrical reassurance. “I’m here for you 24/7,” he vows. “Let’s stay forever young.”
As you might instinctively expect of something blue, though, there’s sorrow present here too. The softly sad ‘No Text No Call’ laments a lack of communication from a former lover, Wonho sighing: “We used to talk all night to the morning, but now we don’t.” It’s a shame it follows immediately after the towering ‘Blue’, because its impact feels dampened in its neighbour’s shadow.
If the titular colour is a joining thread throughout ‘Blue Letter’, so is the biggest mass of blue on Earth – the sea. It pops up throughout Wonho’s lyrics, at once a symbol of fun, beauty, safety and peace. “You just have to take care of yourself and let it out,” he instructs on ‘24/7’, “I’ll be a wide ocean for you.” Over the rippling acoustic guitar of ‘Stranger’, he narrates: “The night is deep without you / The blue sea is asleep / I close my eyes and sketch you.”
If it wasn’t clear by now that the singer is a big softie, this record offers irrefutable proof. ‘Come Over Tonight’ starts off as a sultry slow jam but swiftly switches gear into something sweeter. “Can you come over tonight? / Promise I’ll hold you so tight,” he coos, before confounding expectations: “I can’t sleep without you / I’d be nothing without you.”
Just over a year since Wonho made his solo debut with ‘Love Synonym Pt. 1: Right For Me’, ‘Blue Letter’ showcases an artist growing rapidly in both confidence and his striking abilities. While the star has been involved with the writing and production of all of his releases so far, this record marks the first time he’s contributed his skills to every song on the tracklist. The results are impressive – particularly ‘Blue’, which would be an instant radio smash in a just world.
‘Blue Letter’’s songs might add more depth to our connections with Wonho’s signature colour in their sounds and sentiments, but there’s one more feeling we can now link back to blue thanks to the record as a whole. That’s excitement, because it’s hard not to listen to this mini-album and feel the exhilaration of watching a star in bloom.
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Grandeur sits at the heart of ‘This Music May Contain Hope’, RAYE’s second album, and the result feels nothing short of breathtaking. On this record, the singer born Rachel Keen explores a wide spectrum of sounds across its 73 minute length, moving from emotional ballads to lively funk moments and the jazz pop style she has become closely associated with. It can feel overwhelming at first, yet the magic that comes from RAYE fully committing to her vision makes the experience rewarding from start to finish.
‘This Music May Contain Hope’, a conceptual project about pushing through insecurity and heartbreak, unfolds like a lavish stage production. RAYE takes on the dual role of main character and guiding voice throughout the story. “Allow me to set the scene. Our story begins at 2:27am on a rainy night in Paris. Cue the thunder,” she says during the opening track ‘Girl Under The Grey Cloud’, which arrives with sweeping orchestral strings. Spoken passages appear across the album, helping shape the narrative and giving the project a sense of direction, almost like hearing the official recording of a Broadway show.
With this framework in place, the South London artist allows herself to fully explore the album’s diverse musical palette, and most of the time it works in her favor. Sometimes she fully embraces the theatrical side of the concept, especially during the closing section of the smooth R&B track ‘The WhatsApp Shakespeare’. Other moments are delivered more straightforwardly, such as the emotional slow building ballad ‘I Know You’re Hurting’. She also revisits her earlier dance influences with the impressive house track ‘Life Boat’.
Across the entire album, two things stand out clearly. RAYE’s flexible vocals sound better than ever, and her songwriting feels sharper than it has before. Take the playful highlight ‘I Hate The Way I Look Today’, a swing jazz inspired track reminiscent of Ella Fitzgerald, where she admits “I’m okay to be lonely / If I’m lonely and skinny / I have such silly self-loathing thoughts, it seems”. Then there is the emotional storytelling in ‘Nightingale Lane’: “It was right there, early June / Next to Old Park Avenue / Standing in the rain, I watched him walk away”.
Despite all the vulnerability and emotional struggles explored throughout the record, RAYE ultimately reaches a place of optimism, staying true to the album’s title. She gathers her close friends on ‘Click Clack Symphony’ with support from Hans Zimmer, finds closure with guidance from Al Green on the smooth seventies soul inspired ‘Goodbye Henry’, and reaches toward something greater alongside her sisters Amma and Absolutely on the uplifting ‘Joy’ as she searches to be “free of all the pain and every fear”. After the stormy opening imagery of that “rainy night” and “thunder”, RAYE eventually realizes that “the sun exists behind the clouds”, as she shares on ‘Happier Times Ahead’.
‘This Music May Contain Hope’ shows RAYE performing at her absolute peak. The album feels huge in scale and emotionally powerful, yet it remains rooted in honest experiences and real feelings. Yes, it asks a lot from the listener, but that is also what makes it so special. Every dramatic moment and musical shift feels like RAYE claiming her independence and finally creating music entirely on her own terms.
