ALBUM REVIEWS
The sonic parameters of shoegaze appear to have slowed their once intriguing diversification. Post-millenium infusions with metal (Deftones, Alcest) and hip-hop (Dälek, Clouddead) promised a bold future, however, today’s shoegazers frequently appear more interested in remaining within the familiar aesthetic boundaries of the genre’s nineties heyday.
DIIV’s ‘Frog In Boiling Water’ captures the genre’s current mode of revivalist preservation. The latest from the Brooklyn four-piece is a sedate, melancholic collection, rife with fuzzed-out guitars, leisurely tempos and hushed vocals. In short; everything you expect from a genre that seems to have frozen in cultural time.
DIIV’s musical trajectory has been one of similarly increased refrigeration. Their first two records (2012’s ‘Oshin’ and 2016’s ‘Is the Is Are’) were light-on-their-feet indie pop runouts, before 2019’s ‘Deceiver’ saw the band freeze-dry their tempos and drizzle layers of Kevin Shields-worshipping guitars atop its moody murmurings.
By doubling further down on these familiar textures, ‘Frog In Boiling Water’ serves as a potent example of shoegaze undergoing the ‘foreverisation’ process, to borrow writer Grafton Tanner’s term. Rather than taking influence from the genre’s canon to build something new, DIIV’s fourth full-length reanimates the genre, squeezing further life out of its weathered components.
And for some fans, this will be more than enough. These ten songs move with a familiarly dazed, head-foggy stumble; a stupor that feels as though it’s half aware of its own resurrected status. ‘Brown Paper Bag’’s climactic vibrato leads reverberate like half-remembered dreams, while the crystalline chimes of the title track repeat like a simple mantra, transporting the listener through the annals of shoegaze’s storied history.
Several lyrics bolster this self-aware, incantatory quality. On the title track, vocalist Zachary Cole Smith sings “the future came/and everything’s known/there’s nothing left to say”. It’s a moment of potential sadness, however the song’s breezy tone eschews any emotional blows.
When it arouses itself from its fugue state, ‘Frog In Boiling Water’ touches on moments of lucid, energetic individuality. ‘Somber the Drums’ is a highlight; a dense, lively cut that draws the best out of DIIV with swirling snatches of vocals and heartrending melodies. Closer ‘Fender on the Freeway’ picks up the pace, gradually opening its eyes as it builds to a pretty and loud (by the album’s standards) crescendo.
When it reverts back to its somnambulist calm, a gentle, numbing quality befalls these simple songs. The likes of ‘Little Birds’ and ‘Raining On Your Pillow’ are lullingly linear, driven by routine drum patterns and interchangeable vocal melodies. Depending on your perspective, the sparse instrumentation is either ‘minimalist’ or ‘undercooked’, oscillating between the polarities across the course of this languid collection.
A quiet, undemanding and opaque album, ‘Frog In Boiling Water’ will appeal to a section of shoegaze fans that are keen to surrender to its impressionistic, seemingly-timeless charms. Others may ask themselves: why does it feel a bit like we’re living the same day over and over again?
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.
