ALBUM REVIEWS
Fred Again.. has been on a journey. Over the last few years, he’s successfully – and seemingly effortlessly – pivoted from behind-the-scenes songwriter and producer (albeit one in demand by the likes of Ed Sheeran, BTS and Charli XCX) to the main event. He’s swiftly become one of the biggest names in electronic music and, just a few weeks ago, became the first dance act to headline Reading & Leeds following summers of steadily growing festival slots.
At the current peak of his ascent, the DJ and producer has returned with an album that plays to his strengths: making electronic music that appeals to the heart and soul as well as the feet. Like his ‘Actual Life’ series, the trilogy of albums that helped give him his breakthrough, ‘Ten Days’ is emotional and reflective, and gorgeously so.
Where ‘Actual Life’ was underpinned by a narrative of grief, this new record deals with another classic subject: the rise and fall of a relationship and the impact we have on each other’s lives, told through ten songs that each represent a different day over a period of time. “There’s been a lot of biggg mad crazy moments in the last year,” Fred (real name Fred Gibson) wrote on Instagram when he announced the album in August. “But basically all of these are about really very small quiet intimate moments. Some of them are like the most intensely joyful things I have felt, and some of them are the other side of things.”
That dichotomy is naturally felt across the two halves of ‘Ten Days’. On the first side, there are big swathes of blissed-out, balmy euphoria, like the Obongjayar-led ‘Adore U’, which brings the record bubbling to life, or ‘Just Stand There’, which is steered by Irish singer-songwriter Soak. The latter finds its guest vocalist delivering a spoken-word sermon on the power of someone saying “I love you”. “I just stand there and my one-bed apartment feels like a coliseum,” they share, comparing that feeling to the brilliantly specific “first crunch of Tayto cheese and onion crisps”. As they speak, Gibson’s production builds its layers up into something that reflects the heady rush of love: needling, messy, intricate, like it could collapse at any moment.
On the flip side, there’s the crumbling and dissolution, represented by the only true dud on the album in ‘I Saw You’. It suffers from appearing in the tracklist right after ‘Glow’ – one of the liveliest, truest dance tracks on the record that reunites Gibson with Four Tet and Skrillex, along with Duskus. But even without that rapturous song ahead of it, it feels like ‘I Saw You’ would fall flat anyway, as it lacks the spark of the album’s better offerings.
There are still some beautiful moments to be had in this half, though. ‘Where Will I Be’, a reworking of a 1995 Emmylou Harris song, mixes the poeticism of the original lyrics, emotively delivered by the country icon, with minimal, delicately utilised synths. The Joy Anonymous-featuring ‘Peace U Need’, meanwhile, offers an affecting idea: that even if things don’t turn out the way we’d hope, our legacy in someone’s life can still live on. “I let you take a piece of me,” its key line goes. “I hope you get the peace you need.”
‘Ten Days’ excels on two fronts – when Fred and his collaborators dig up a more interesting take on the influence of love, and when the producer turns his sights to the dancefloor. In the former category, there’s ‘Fear Less’, a stunning turn from Sampha that takes us into a scene in a car, anxieties soothed by a partner “on the passenger side”. In the latter, there’s ‘Places To Be’, the biggest mover on the album, guided by features from Anderson. Paak and Chika, and a beat akin to that of André 3000 and Kelis’ ‘Millionaire’. “There’s something about that song that just makes you wanna get up and bust a motherfucking move,” a voice declares in the middle – an incredibly accurate assessment.
It would be easy for Gibson to take the attention and acclaim surrounding him and return on this album with by-the-numbers, floor-filling bangers. Instead, he pushes deeper and comes up with something that’s both poignant and fun in equal measure – a solid gold record that leans into the little moments and produces pure, emotional magic that will ensure many more “biggg mad crazy” times in Fred Again..’s future ahead.
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.
