There has never been anything shy about Genesis Yasmine Mohanraj’s music as Tommy Genesis. Known for her raunchy, sex-forward themes, she’s served up bars about popping cherries and demanding a good time from her lovers; sex, confidence, and self-assurance are her natural wheelhouse. So her newest project, GENESIS, marks a surprising departure, living up to its name by presenting a new musical avenue for the rapper. Here, she takes an introspective turn, exploring her lifelong struggles with rejection and nonconformity in songs that bounce between revisiting her upbringing—one dogged by uncertainty and exclusion—and reflecting on her present-day difficulties with the pressures of the public eye.
On GENESIS, Mohanraj introduces listeners to a softer side of herself, beyond the brash confidence of her previous projects: an artist who still views herself as a work in progress, one still searching for self-actualization and feeling the frustration of falling short of her potential. On “Archetype,” she considers her adolescent experiences of ostracization, manifesting a future self who will eventually surpass the limits of the boxes that she couldn’t fit into as a child. “Maybe I will step into my light/Maybe I will finally do what’s right,” she croons in her signature off-kilter flow, teetering right on the edges of the beat in her probing, if somewhat rambling, style. The album’s title track dives deeper into her struggles with the spotlight as she expresses the discomfort of being seen as an entertainer rather than as a person: “Thrown on a wall against the backdrop of a world and I know it hurts,” she sings on the downcast ballad, “that they can’t see you when all you see is Genesis.”
Mohanraj is of Swedish and South Asian descent, and her biracial heritage, along with questions about religion and sexuality, fuel the album’s explorations of identity. On “Butterflies & Diamond Chains,” she examines the relationship between her racial and religious heritage and her bisexuality over the strums of an acoustic guitar: “My skin, the outcome of immigrants/My mind, the sphere of sin/Mixed in with crippling thoughts of identity.” Though she does a lot of questioning, she rarely arrives at any answers; instead, she expresses herself through murky metaphors. On “Eve ate the apple,” a song rife with religious references, she likens herself to everything from the perceived sinfulness of Sodom and Gomorrah to a “cookie cutter stuck to the batter with glue.” While showcasing her penchant for allusion, this language often obscures, rather than clarifies, the weight of her struggles.
Despite these unique analogies, large sections of the project hover on the brink of forgettability. Breakout single “Girl’s Girl” is catchy upon first listen, but blends easily into the sonic monotony of modern TikTok sounds; its acoustic palette, soundbites of chirping birds, and dreamy bassline, alongside its hollow sentiments of social media-fueled relationship troubles and being a “girl’s girl,” seem designed to be placed as the backdrop for alternative, “aesthetic” summer outings and edgy day-in-the-life snapshots. The stripped-back production of “Gabriel,” meanwhile, fails to differentiate itself from the preceding track, “2 Wolves.”
Some of the album’s best moments are tucked into its final tracks, a reward of sorts for pressing through the album’s denser middle. The dance-pop “Baby are you okay?,” with its bass-heavy beats and Mohnaraj’s robotic, crossfaded delivery, picks up the pace as she cockily checks in on an ex she’s long since outgrown. The angsty, alt-rock production on “Homebound” compliments her stacked, moody vocals—some of the strongest on the album.
The genre-hopping explorations of the album’s ending tracks point to the creative versatility that’s long been one of Mohnaraj’s strengths. Though GENESIS feels, at times, both confusing and confused, it reflects the uncertainty of navigating life as a young adult. While she may not have delivered to her full potential, GENESIS indicates that Mohanraj has a meditative instinct that will urge her to reflect, repair, and readjust until she ultimately reaches it.
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.
