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.
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.
