ALBUM REVIEWS
“Thank you Kim Gordon,” one caption put it, “putting out bangers in ur 70s, now I’m not scared to grow old.” The former Sonic Youth singer and bassist has become an unlikely TikTok smash thanks to her dissonant recent single ‘BYE BYE’, a punishing blast of blown-out bass and ice-cold trap beats. Battered by the noise, Gordon sounds unmoved as she coolly recounts the shit that needs to get done: “Buy suitcase, pants to the cleaner… Call the vet, call the groomer / Call the dog sit-terrr.”
It’s a thrillingly avant-grade performance that’s also pretty accessible and catchy, a trick repeated throughout her second solo album, ‘The Collective’, on which it appears. Here the 70-year-old balances her less than commercial sensibilities with crunchily on-trend production and relatable lyrics about rotten capitalism and fragile masculinity – if these sound like themes she explored during Sonic Youth’s ‘90s heyday, it only goes to show how little has changed.
The bracing production comes courtesy of Justin Raisen, who helmed the album’s predecessor, ‘No Home Record’, and has helped to steer the likes of Lil Yachty into unchartered territory. Gordon’s latest vision is crystallised on ‘I Don’t Miss My Mind’, which pairs a muscular beat with insidious synth as she half-raps about “crying on the subway” and “drywall for days”; vignettes of everyday life broken up like jagged shards of glass.
Not all of these experiments quite come off: the industrial clang of ‘It’s Dark Inside’, on which she drawls, “they don’t teach clit in school / Like do Lit”, veers close to ‘Yeezus’ parody. It’s notable, though, how contemporary her distorted art-punk sounds, given the ongoing grunge resurgence and the fact that Olivia Rodrigo’s taking The Breeders on tour this year. Despite her new album’s title, here is an icon who’s spent more than four decades making truly individual art.
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.
