ALBUM REVIEWS
It seems weird that Måneskin frontman Damiano David’s debut solo album would land on Eurovision weekend, given that the past Italian victors have done so well to escape and thrive outside of the shadow of the cheese-romp song contest. Since their victory in 2021, the band have won love from the likes of Iggy Pop and Tom Morello and arenas full of fans that have probably never heard the words “douze points!”
Proving himself all over again, here stands David free from any of the rock’n’roll tropes that found him fame – and nearly ruined him. “In the last few years, we worked a lot and I was starting to lose the focus… I was basically making myself unhappy, and I was doing pretty good at it,” he told NME about the journey of “cutting out all the excess” that led to this solo venture.
The same rehab for excess can be said for the music too. Sure, ‘Funny Little Fears’ is huge in scale and melodrama (what else did you expect?), but it’s still a record free of distractions and laser-focused on straight-up pop bangers.
Opener ‘Voices’ meets the pomp with the personal as he tries to outrun his demons on a real stadium-rattler akin to that ‘Beggin’ cover he did so well, while ‘Next Summer’ has enough echoes of ABBA to make it a heartache epic. From the Lennon-y piano of ‘Sick Of Myself’ to the shameless summer indie-pop of ‘Tango’ to the star-reaching orchestral grace of ‘Mars’ and the Killers-y Americana road anthem of ‘The First Time’, it’s a collection that’s confident in squaring up to fears and all quite tastefully measured.
That includes some guest turns with Suki Waterhouse lending silky vocals to the “lighters up” earworm ‘The Bruise’ and viral sensation D4vd jumps on the sweet old-school waltz of ‘Tangerine’. Subtlety is the order of the day on the elegiac electro lullaby closer ‘Solitude (No One Understands Me)’ as David poetically cuts to the existential core of the record: “I’ve got a funny fear of flying, it’s not the height or the chance of maybe dying / It’s finding out the Earth was flat and finding out everybody here was lying.”
For his soul-baring, personal flair and finding his own musical accent away from the juggernaut that made him, you’d be forgiven for comparing this to a Harry Styles move. Despite bassist Victoria De Angelis enjoying a sideline as a techno artist, David and the band maintain that former NME cover stars Måneskin are currently “in training to get back different, better and harder”. We might miss a little bit of glam-rock insanity here, but ‘Funny Little Fears’ is a classy pop statement from an artist just comfortable in their own skin. As David offers on ‘Solitude’: “No one understands me, but I do”.
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.
