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On ‘This Is How Tomorrow Moves’, Beabadoobee is exploring a new era of her life. After breaking out as a teenager with lo-fi bedroom pop, her early EPs (like 2018’s lovely ‘Patched Up’) were followed by two stellar full-length records of pop and rock tunes that documented coming of age and young adult years. With ‘This Is How Tomorrow Moves’ Beatrice Kristi Ilejay Laus continues to share her experience of growing up, and creating this album has, she’s said, helped her understand where she’s at, now aged 24, capturing her journey of “becoming a woman”.
Throughout ‘This Is How Tomorrow Moves’, Bea reflects on her own experiences of womanhood and the complex landscape you negotiate in those early years of adulthood. It’s a time in your life when you look at situations with a new clarity – something she does as she reflects on her own role in – and takes accountability for – past situations. As she’s explained: “It’s accepting that there’s an inevitability of my fault in there too.” It’s looking at her life through a slightly different lens, like putting on a different pair of glasses and finding the world is both familiar but suddenly a little sharper, a little clearer.
Take the record’s lead single ‘Take A Bite’, a growling hunk of ’90s rock on which the artist introspectively reflects on her own responsibility for unhealthy behaviour in relationships and “finding comfort in chaos”. “It gets harder to breathe/But I take it, and I want it, and I love when it bleeds,” she reveals honestly. On ‘Ever Seen’, an earworm reminiscent of the more rousing moments of Phoebe Bridgers’ music with its fanfare instrumentals, she’s similarly pensive, admitting: “Spent some time waiting for your face/Don’t want to risk just making all the same mistakes“.
There’s a slight sonic shift here, too. While the established sounds of her previous two records, ‘Fake It Flowers’ and ‘Beatopia’, are evident in the amped-up guitar licks, Bea’s distinct hushed vocals and folk-flecked moments here sound more refined. This could be the impact of one of the album’s exec producers, the illustrious Rick Rubin. For ‘This Is How Tomorrow Moves’, Bea swapped London for the producers’ Shangri-La studio in Malibu.
Indeed, track ‘Beaches’ was inspired by being in LA and the rediscovered trust Beabadoobee had in her own songwriting skills thanks to Rubin’s support, the Cali sunshine permeating the slack rock riffs. Elsewhere, the twinkling piano and skipping rhythms of ‘Real Man’, an eye roll about disappointing romantic trysts, evoke the folk of Clairo’s ‘Sling’, while she dabbles with Bossa Nova on ‘A Cruel Affair’ and there’s a lilting country twang to ‘Everything I Want’.
On the gorgeous ‘Girl Song’, a piano-lead ballad that showcases the very best of her songwriting, she strips things back. With just a simple piano accompaniment straight out of the Great American Songbook, she opens up about her own self-esteem, revealing she’s “just a girl who overthinks about/Proportions or her waist/The creases on her face”. Later, she admits: “All I want to do is find the words to make it up to you/Making all the same mistakes, I guess there’s still a lot to prove“.
It’s a heart-wrenching song, filled with a multitude of complex and often contradictory emotions, the knotty realities of young womanhood laid bare. That’s something that shines through the whole of ‘This Is How Tomorrow Moves’ – Beabadoobee’s knack for capturing the twists and turns of growing into yourself with relatable candour. A collection of songs that showcase the tangled feelings of this time, the young artist’s third record is a poignant, powerful thing.
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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.
