ALBUM REVIEWS
Post Malone‘s fifth studio album, ‘Austin’ starts with a tragic love song. An acoustic guitar magnifies Malone’s vibrating vocals as he admits, “I don’t understand why you like me so much / Cause I don’t like myself” just before the strings come in, introducing the live instrumentation that pervades the entire album. It’s a haunting first glimpse at Austin Richard Post’s namesake collection, hinting at a new level of lyrical honesty and musicality for the singer-songwriter.
In the lead-up to ‘Austin’, Malone decided to slow down. In a recent interview he explained that becoming a father and moving from the raucous Los Angeles to more subdued Salt Lake City shifted his perspective from focusing on the destination to “[experiencing] the journey to its fullest”. That decision takes on auditory prominence in the album, whether it’s Malone’s choice to play guitar on every song or the decelerating tempo of tracks in comparison to his previous releases.
There’s also a stripped-back element to ‘Austin’, whether it’s pulling back his moniker and stamping his birth name across the compilation or deciding to release a feature-less album for the very first time. Though his notable genre-defying skills are still here in ‘Austin’, Posty’s clearly veering off in new creative directions, which is a bold choice to make considering his formula thus far has pushed him to global acclaim.
In June of last year, he released ‘Twelve Carate Toothache’ scattered with guest spots from the likes of Doja Cat, his favourite band Fleet Foxes, The Weeknd and more. If ‘Twelve Carate Toothache’ was a “sobering comedown” as NME wrote, then ‘Austin’ is a thoughtful look back at all the vices and drinking that led to that comedown and a quick hopeful glance at what could happen next. The subject matter may be cutting at times – like when Malone recalls being so messed up he’s talking to nobody, throwing up on a tile floor and not wanting to sober up in ‘Mourning’ – but instead of each track playing out painfully, the album’s intricate production acts like a spoonful of sugar to help the bitterness go down.
In ‘Something Real’ Malone goes full gospel, as he confesses opulent sins and worships at the altar of free rounds of drinks in VIP and lighting a cigarette “just so I can breath” all on the hunt for something he can feel. A choir backs his dissolution and the heart-wrenching line “I would trade my life just to be at peace” pours out right before the close. The pulsating ‘Chemical’ is one of the album’s best testaments to dressing up a sad song as a happy one. The track features bright keys at the refrain and when Malone sings about listening to “‘Seven Nation Army’ fighting at the bar with you” he makes it sound romantic, somehow.
‘Overdrive’ strings together a ballad from the perspective of a protagonist yearning to be “Cool to you”, the singer leaning into heartbreaking vocal tones; the simple whistling and pristine production making direct lyrics like “I’d remove my tattoos if that’s cool to you” sound profound. ‘Green Thumb’ highlights Malone in all of his pop-prowess, his voice clear like a bell and his lyrical treatise on love (or inner growth… or flowers… or death) evokes a solemn reaction, with sharp metaphors layered over timeless and stirring orchestration.
Malone co-produced ‘Austin’ with behemoth creators Andrew Watt and Louis Bell on most of the album, sans two tracks (‘Sign Me Up’ and ‘Enough Is Enough’) where he collaborates with hit Swedish songwriters Max Martin and Rami Yacoub to create what he’s called “some of the funnest most challenging and rewarding music”. The shift from trap beats and hip-hop delivery to purer pop suites Malone well, proving that slowing down can be a creative advantage, especially when you’re heading in the right direction.
ALBUM REVIEWS
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.
