ALBUM REVIEWS
For over two decades, Tottenham’s revered wordsmith Wretch 32 has evolved before our eyes, from a raw talent to a cornerstone of UK rap, taking up space beyond his own records. In the six years since his last album ‘Upon Reflection’, he’s been a creative director for 0207 Def Jam, penned a poem for Stormzy’s 2022 cinematic comeback ‘Mel Made Me Do It’, and written his first book, Rapthology: Lessons in Life and Lyrics. Now he’s back behind the mic, imparting his wisdom in his sixth album, ‘Home?’, his most philosophical release yet.
Despite the Windrush generation’s crucial role in shaping British culture, their descendants still grapple with belonging. As a second-gen British-Jamaican, Wretch seeks to ease that restlessness with a message of healing and growth, promising back in October that ‘Home?’ is for those “who need soul food and something to fulfil them” – but this nourishment is for all of those simply wondering where their home is.
On the fiery ‘Seven Seater’, the Tottenham star makes it known that he’s not “competing with numbers,” just delivering his divine message on heritage and selfhood – quickly expanding to the lived tension between Blackness and belonging. That journey quickly deepens on the indulgent ‘Like Home’ with Nigeria’s Temi where Wretch briefly honours his ancestral home of Africa, framed by Bob Marley’s words: “Every Black man in the West is what he want to be when he goes to Africa.”
He continues his search for belonging with ‘Nesta Marley’. A track swelling with emotional clarity, Wretch and Skip Marley offer a powerful moment of diasporic healing as the former yearns for a deeper connection to his motherland. The intellectual polymath “prays for better days, where we all can live as one” – a call for unity that extends beyond the diaspora to all of humanity. He echoes this sentiment by interpolating the melody of Dido’s ‘Thank You’ on the refrain, reflecting his desire for inner peace and acceptance: “Roots and culture in my system, di I-dem big and strong / People fighting out my window, cyant they see da sun?” As the track closes, the vinyl crackles like a burning chalice, with Wretch’s prophetic, parabolic spoken words soaring higher than I-and-I in this sonic reasoning session.
‘Bridge Is Burning’ with Chronixx mourns the rupture migration leaves behind as adopted cultures eclipse inherited values, the link to the motherland slowly smouldering. That’s why it flows so powerfully into ‘Me & Mine’ – a sunlit, island-fused anthem with WSTRN that doesn’t just bounce for vibes’ sake: it symbolises what we built from the ashes. Haile’s hook fused Wretch’s raw croon with Akelle’s slick lines and Louis Rei’s yard-man style, nostalgically interpolating Sanchez’s reggae classic ‘Frenzy’. This isn’t escapism – it’s a reclaimed sound where the spirit of back home echoes loud.
As ‘Home?’ unfolds, Wretch brings in Black British voices – Little Simz, Benjamin AD, Angel, Skrapz, Tiggs Da Author and more – to help explore love, survival and legacy across Britain’s diaspora. ‘Seven Seater’ sees Wretch reunite with The Movement brethren Mercston and Ghetts to celebrate grime’s Black British roots and the brotherhood that has been central to the genre and Black Britons’ survival. Kano dissects Black Britishness on ‘Home Sweet Home’, using his Jamaican heritage and football hooliganism to expose society’s flippancy between race and nationality, forcing Black people to juggle their identities.
That unsettled spirit reverberates on ‘Windrush’ with Cashh – a rapper deported by the UK Home Office in 2014 who fought for five years to return – exposing generational betrayal. But the sweet-yet-short interlude ‘Home Is Where The Heart Is’ is where Wretch succinctly captures the tension best: “They call me all of the names, under the sun, still I rise, morning come / Home is where the heart is, why do you stay where you are?”
In the end, Wretch’s search for belonging is emotive and heart-wrenching for those who truly understand what it is to be forever torn between worlds. Yet, within that loss, he hosts a homecoming of sorts – an invitation for Black Britons to mourn, heal, and ultimately celebrate what they and their forebears have built despite everything. When Wretch said ‘Home?’ would be “soul food”, he wasn’t kidding. It goes beyond that, becoming a testament to the strength of roots that refuse to wither and a promise that – no matter where you are in the world – you can always find a piece of home in this record.
ALBUM REVIEWS
Canadian duo Softcult name their stunning first album after the well known Alexander Den Heijer line “When a flower doesn’t bloom, you fix the environment in which it grows, not the flower.” That belief in brave transformation and choosing something healthier runs through everything Mercedes and Phoenix Arn Horn do. The twin sisters know that idea intimately after spending over ten years in pop rock outfit Courage My Love, before stepping away in 2020 when major label life began to feel too restrictive to survive creatively.
Softcult emerged soon after in 2021 with ‘Another Bish’, a sharp edged dream pop statement that made it clear they would not be boxed in. A run of four gritty EPs followed, steeped in Riot Grrrl spirit, alongside hand assembled zines, an intensely loyal online following and high profile support slots with Muse and Incubus. Each move has helped build a carefully protected DIY universe where honesty and release come first.
The sisters have never sounded more grounded or self assured than they do on their self produced debut ‘When A Flower Doesn’t Grow’. The album loosely traces the process of escaping systems of abuse, control and expectation, opening with the weightless ‘Intro’. From there, the grimy surge of ‘Pill To Swallow’ finds Mercedes confronting how bleak the world can feel in 2026 with the line “no more promises of better days”, while still choosing resilience over surrender.
‘When A Flower Doesn’t Grow’ is packed with songs that run on pure fury. ‘Hurt Me’ erupts as a blistering release that recalls Nirvana at their most savage, while ‘Tired!’ barrels forward as a no nonsense punk blast aimed at suffocating pressures, with Mercedes biting back “tired of the expectations, tired of your explanations.” Elsewhere, the hazy drive of ‘Naïve’ and the deceptively bright ‘Queen Of Nothing’ bristle with restrained anger, and the charging ‘16/25’ pulls no punches when calling out predatory behaviour. ‘She Said, He Said’ cuts just as sharply, its spoken word delivery flipping between mockery and menace to deepen the band’s guitar led resistance.
Softcult’s debut feels like a natural step forward from their spiky punk roots while also opening doors to new sounds. The loud soft swing of ‘Not Sorry’ bursts with relief and joy, marking the most carefree moment they have ever put on record. At the other end, closing track ‘When A Flower Doesn’t Go’ strips everything back, blending acoustic folk with scorched post rock textures. The duo sound at ease moving between these poles, but it is the fragile hush of ‘I Held You Like Glass’ that lands hardest, leaving room for vulnerability and quiet heartbreak to linger.
