RAYE: ‘THIS MUSIC MAY CONTAIN HOPE.’ – Album Review

The London singer soars on her second record, a true ray of light amid the storm. She sticks true to her promise and defies the diktats of pop music with heart.

★★★★☆

As many other people, I found out about RAYE’s existence and talent in 2024 following the BRIT Awards, gobsmacked by her rollercoaster of a performance: piano-only ballad, big band, choir, jazz, R&B, hip hop – she goes through almost every genre. And as her main asset: her voice.

On My 21st Century Symphony., recorded live during a one-off concert at the prestigious Royal Albert Hall, she breathes new life into her first album, accompanied by the Heritage Orchestra and the Flames Collective choir. Each song is revisited with flair and the songs that did not work as well on the studio version are reborn even more majestic.

It was then made evident that RAYE gets inspiration from both the old school and the new school. With ‘Genesis.,’ a single released in June 2024, she strengthened her love for jazz and dramatics. One year later, she worked with Mark Ronson on ‘Suzanne,’ a sunny soul number whose production cannot but recall the producer’s indelible work with Amy Winehouse. At this point I started to question the direction RAYE’s new album would take. Would she get boxed up in the retro soul-pop female singers category, without adding her own unique touch? Inevitable hit ‘WHERE IS MY HUSBAND!’ proved me wrong. In her quest of true love, a sixties soul vibe, with strong brass and an effervescent pace, perfectly matched her sense of humour and hundred words per second flow. However, after her Paris show in February 2026, my doubts resurfaced. I feared the album would lack cohesion, due to RAYE’s fondness of excess. 27 March: THIS MUSIC MAY CONTAIN HOPE. finally comes out.

Throughout 17 tracks – including an introduction and end credits – sequenced around the four seasons, she dives into her thoughts and takes us by the hand beyond the grey autumn clouds and into the summer sunlight.

From beginning to end, maximalism prevails. RAYE is not one to do things by half. On ‘Intro: Girl under the Grey Cloud.,’ she sets quite the dramatic scene: during a stormy night in Paris, the third-person protagonist, seven drinks in, walks back to her hotel after spending the night alone in the crowd, without anyone noticing her despite her stylish efforts. In the following song, ‘I Will Overcome.,’ the young woman gives us her point of view this time and faces her own solitude and demons, be it incognito Internet users or her very self. Still, she convinces herself as she repeats, ‘I will overcome.’ A magnificent instrumentation from the London Symphony Orchestra accompanies RAYE and ends on a heavy and dramatic note. Only six minutes – out of seventy-three – in, and you could justly wonder whether the rest of the album would not crumble under the weight of the singer’s ambition. Surprisingly, it does not, for the most part.

On ‘Click Clack Symphony.,’ she fights lonely depression on a Friday night thanks a girls’ night out, to the sound of their heels on the ground. A real army of bad bitches that composer Hans Zimmer illustrates with power before ending with an epic coda worthy of Hollywood blockbusters. ‘I Hate the Way I Look Today.’ tackles body dysmorphia – a topical subject she already addressed on her first record –, but rather than giving in to pathos, RAYE gives it a twist by making it jazz show tune directly taken from the 1920s. ‘Beware.. The South London Lover Boy.’ warns her female listeners against vile men looking for multiple conquests – which they may be too unlucky to have met – by presenting them as a dangerous animal species. All of this over a catchy soul production reminiscent of the 1960s, before she slows down the tempo for a call-and-response with the audience.

RAYE aims her music to immerse and interact – almost all of the songs here contain spoken parts, which may tend to weigh down the melodies or some of the songs’ impact. After a chain of deep and dramatic numbers, ‘Life Boat.’ – which closes the album’s winter act halfway through – offers a moment of optimistic levity thanks to its house production. And although this track works, it suffers from false starts and would have been more impactful had it been more straightforward. The three next songs all start off with a spoken introduction indicating either the title, the aimed emotion, or both, which works more during a concert than on record. Lastly, RAYE treats herself one more time on the final track, aptly entitled ‘Fin.,’ and spends four minutes thanking every person that contributed to the album by naming each of them. As part of the musical experience, this gesture does not add much, but I could not help but smile out of surprise on my first listen. This record is cinematic to the very last second and when RAYE does things, she goes 200 per cent and with her whole heart.

This much is true on ‘I Know You’re Hurting.’ – the album’s musical and literal heart – on which she directly sings to the listener to express her compassion and support. This power ballad takes its time without ever dragging. The choruses hit hard while the verses are soft hugs, before reaching a climax that cannot leave any soul indifferent.

Soul, another undeniable quality, as made clear by the presence of several relatives throughout the entire record. Her maternal grandmother closes the introduction by inviting her to pray together, and is heard once again before the final chorus of ‘WHERE IS MY HUSBAND!’ On the sublime ‘Fields.,’ she shares to her maternal grandfather – who recently passed – her fear of loneliness and her nostalgia of childhood with one of the album’s most gorgeous productions, whose simple guitar and organ arrangements allow the emotions to shine through as growing gospel choirs claim, ‘I don’t wanna be crying / I just wanna be joyful / I don’t wanna feel sad no more / I just wanna be free.’ The following track takes up where the previous left off. ‘Joy.’ – the final full-length song – turns up the tempo and proves RAYE was not lying: there is hope. Its sound blurs the borders of gospel, soul, disco and house in a spectacular finale on which two of her three sisters, Absolutely and Amma – both singers as well –, help her deliver an essential message: ‘I declare I am somebody / I declare there will be joy.’

We live in a time where the saying ‘less is more’ is prevalent, throughout many spheres. The average pop song barely passes the three-minute-thirty-second mark. The first images from The Devil Wears Prada 2 clearly lack the vibrancy specific to the 2000s comedies the original film dates back to. Pantone named Cloud Dancer its Colour of the Year 2026 – understand ‘white,’ for goodness! RAYE takes the opposite stance of that restrictive atmosphere. She is a free spirit who will never be told how to act. Social media may have taught us to endlessly compare ourselves to others, but RAYE teaches us to be our own selves, fully and wholeheartedly. Yes, she may be compared to Amy Winehouse, but she is not a mere copy. More than just a sound, she draws from her an attitude. As a result, THIS MUSIC MAY CONTAIN HOPE. may be linked to two recent works. It falls into the ranks of of ROSALÍA’s LUX and Beyoncé’s COWBOY CARTER, each questioning us on the meaning of pop music. Popular as in ‘for the working class’ or as in ‘listened to by the masses?’ Is it one particular sound or the fusion of dozens of them? This subject deserves hours of consideration. Nevertheless, what we can take from all those albums is that pop music can be everything and anything when artists decide to throw habits out the window. On her sophomore album, does RAYE overdo it? Yes. Is that a bad thing? Far from it, thankfully so.