In 2021, songwriter Jessica Dobson and her band, Deep Sea Diver, gave an arresting performance inside the famous “red room” from Twin Peaks. Or, not exactly; Deep Sea Diver had recreated the room for a quarantine-era home concert series, their attempt to inject a dose of wonder and inspiration into the interminable sameness of lockdown. The meticulous backdrop seemed fitting for a band whose explosive indie rock traffics in carefully calibrated dynamics, and Dobson’s widescreen, off-kilter soundscapes seemed right at home inside the Lynchian dreamworld.
Billboard Heart is Deep Sea Diver’s fourth album, and their first after the breakout success of 2020’s Impossible Weight. That album was the band’s first release on a label, and landed Deep Sea Diver an opening spot on tour with Pearl Jam and their first placement on a Billboard chart. Though Billboard Heart comes in the wake of success, it’s not so much a victory lap as a record of grit—the sheen in its propulsive, riff-laden songwriting not the glow of self-satisfaction but the blistering aftermath of hard work.
Deep Sea Diver deftly modulates their energy over the course of Billboard Heart, whose front half zigzags through cinematic scene-setting and jittery accelerations, and whose back half mellows into a more pensive slow burn. Dobson was formerly a touring guitarist for the Shins and Beck, and her expressive, commanding playing shows off the mastery of an in-demand instrumentalist. Tracks like “See in the Dark” and “Let Me Go” are rooted by blown-out, gnarled guitar solos; on the latter, in which she duets with singer-songwriter Madison Cunningham, their raging guitars intertwine like ivy climbing a crumbling stone wall. There’s a new level of yearning intensity to Dobson’s vocals, too—in “Emergency” and “Shovel,” she seems to sing the verses through gritted teeth, then lets loose a howl, belting like her anxiety is a predator that needs scaring off.
Billboard Heart’s songs are detail-studded and dense, filled out by Dobson’s bandmates, drummer Peter Mansen and synth player Elliot Jackson, and a handful of additional contributors adding bass, strings, steel guitar, and more. Mansen and co-producer Andy D. Park pack “What Do I Know” with insistent percussion and drum loop samples; “Emergency”’s frenetic energy is kept aloft by indefatigable drumming and whining synths; a twinkling riff and winding bassline add sweetness to “Tiny Threads.” Nearly every song crashes to a crescendo at some point, and even the softest moments tend to end in controlled chaos—like “Loose Change,” which builds from a softly strummed murmur to a screech as Dobson howls, “Everything is changing/And I’m learning to love.” When words fail, there’s always a guitar solo, as in the cathartic, frenzied playing that ends the desperate-yet-hopeful “See in the Dark.”
A sense of unease permeates Dobson’s lyrics on Billboard Heart, in songs that speak plainly of hard goodbyes, self-doubt, and getting lost. But these songs don’t get stuck there; more often than not, they are fundamentally hopeful, a testament to fighting through darkness with faith in something brighter on the other side. “Don’t cover my eyes,” Dobson begs on “Emergency,” “I want to see it all.” The album’s woozy final track captures this hard-fought optimism, as Dobson repeats its title phrase, “happiness is not a given,” first as a gentle assertion, then as full-throated roar. Satisfaction takes effort; Dobson leaves no room for doubt that she’s in it for the long haul.
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.
