RAYE: THIS MUSIC MAY CONTAIN HOPE. Album Review | Pitchfork The British singer’s second album is all curated melancholy and aestheticized heartache, winding its way through jazz, orchestral pop, and R&B with melodramatic flair. Rock bottom, for RAYE, has immaculate production value. On THIS MUSIC MAY CONTAIN HOPE., her second record, she renders despair beautiful in Parisian noir, adorned in a crimson dress, waterproof mascara, and Jimmy Choos that click-clack on wet cobblestone. The British singer narrates her heartbreak with a Bridget Jones charm: She’s seven Negronis deep, listening to Édith Piaf, indulging in a piece of chocolate cake. Even the thunder arrives on cue, accompanied by the London Symphony Orchestra. This is curated melancholy, a 73-minute melodrama where sorrow is filtered through an Old Hollywood lens until it sparkles. “I’ll be sad and beautiful,” she pledges on “Winter Woman.”, and for the duration of the record, she never breaks character. There’s a reason behind this drama queen’s theatrics. Before My 21st Century Blues made RAYE the first woman to win Songwriter of the Year at the BRIT Awards, she spent seven years at Polydor watching her songs get shelved or handed to others. She’d had success with some singles, but claimed her label wouldn’t let her release a full album—so she left, and released her debut independently. Finally she held the microphone; this follow-up is the sound of someone who has decided she will never hand it back. In a pop industry that rewards front-loaded hooks, TikTok-ified bridges, and short runtimes, RAYE chooses to be inconvenient. She lets 17 tracks sprawl across four season-themed acts, favoring slow builds, spoken-word tangents, and four-, five-, six-minute songs that save their plot twists for the end. Some listeners might skip ahead. Their loss.#brit_awards #raye #pitchfork #polydor #london_symphony_orchestra
