ALBUM REVIEWS
Kevin Abstract has already experienced a most curious musical career. The 27-year-old was the de facto leader of Brockhampton, the much-hyped, sprawling boyband that developed a cult fanbase with their ‘Saturation’ trilogy released in 2017. As they signed to a major label, things got a bit wobbly: member Ameer Van left the band amidst scandal and they scrapped a record, but they remained prolific and went on to release a further four albums in as many years. In 2022, they split for good.
Abstract had been busy with his solo career, too. NME called his 2019 album ‘Arizona Baby’ a “neat reminder of the Brockhampton svengali Abstract’s enormous talent” and he had guest appearances on work from Kae Tempest and Easy Life. He hinted that he wanted to retire in 2019 to focus on filmmaking, and served as a creative consultant on HBO’s hit show Euphoria. It’s been hard to pin Abstract down – you sense that’s the way he likes it.
‘Hunger’, his first music since Brockhampton’s disbandment, is similarly elusive. He says in an accompanying note that the split of his band left him depressed and “unsure of his path forward” and that he wanted to make a “Sunny Day Real Estate, Nirvana, Modest Mouse type of record” but one that will “hit like a rap album”.
It picks up where ‘Arizona Baby’ left off, but burrows deeper into those indie-rock influences. At times, such is the vocal manipulation and the lo-fi feel, you could mistake some of this material for Alex G or even DIIV. That said, few could fashion a hit like ‘Madonna’ – the record’s standout moment – which is up there with his finest solo material, and ‘Real To Me’, which is crisp and punchy.
In totality, however, the collection is more of a mood piece than of noticeable, memorable songs. There are songs with no discernible beginning, middle or end: ‘Scream’’s disparate parts and melodies don’t quite marry, while ‘Blanket’ bets its success on big riffs and not a lot more. ‘My Friend’, which features buzzy indie-folk hero Kara Jackson and Wednesday’s MJ Lendermen, feels buried at the end of the record, despite its strength.
‘Blanket’ feels like another piece of the grand puzzle that is Kevin Abstract, and though it might not be his strongest material – heartfelt, for sure – he remains an alluring figure, a lightning rod for ideas. He is, reliably, never dull.
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.
