Raye has pooled huge names and an even bigger brand of her own for This Music May Contain Hope. She has earned that status through hard work and a constant cycle of large-scale shows that, by the looks of it, maintain an intimacy in the massive arenas. Such a skill is not lost, either, on her second album. It may feature Hans Zimmer and Al Green but, despite the huge names at hand, there is a grounded feeling to this Raye release. It comes not through a flat Intro: Girl Under the Grey Cloud, the faux scene-setting experience more an excuse to ease listeners in than anything else, but through the example Raye has set. Presumably, this underdog image must now fall, especially when she tops the charts and reaps the rightful rewards of a job well done, but for those listening to This Music May Contain Hope at a dark time, inevitably, they are given the world around us, there is a light to follow that Raye kindles well.
Wasting no time in addressing the comparisons, the cutthroat callbacks made by people who believe Raye is a cheap copy of Amy Winehouse, This Music May Contain Hope references but never quite resolves it. She has an overlap with the Rehab singer, though that does not inherently tie them together. A similar-sounding style and working in the same genre makes little sense, as much sense as it made when Sam Fender found himself compared to Bruce Springsteen for writing about his hometown. It just doesn’t stick, though I Will Overcome makes a point of profiling the differences, and, ironically, finds there’s more in common between Raye and Winehouse than first thought. A sense of the theatrics, a hardworking style which is underscored by a confident artistic aesthetic. It oozes out of the album, the softer piano flourishes that next level for Raye, that moment This Music May Contain Hope comes together is early on. It’s not easy-going from there. Raye is at her best when she believes, rightly or wrongly, she has something to prove – not to a listener, but herself.
It’s an attitude which will carry her work farther than her contemporaries, because the belief is sincere. More than enough variation across the album, from the upbeat thrills and intimate details of Beware… The South London Lover Boy to the sharp assessment of modern dating with The WhatsApp Shakespeare, plants Raye as a leading pop voice. She balances the inevitabilities of the genre with her interest in the Golden Age sounds of Hollywood-adjacent musical cues, fast-tempo jazz spots backing the wounds of modern life. You can’t quite hear the influence Zimmer has on Click Clack Symphony but it’s because, despite the writing strength Raye displays, she leaps from spoken-word sincerity to vocal manipulation meant to punch through as a new character, a new display of desire. It’s maddening, loose, and totally the point of This Music May Contain Hope. Try to keep up.
Part of the appeal to Raye begins unravelling around the time of I Hate The Way I Look Today. Nuance is a thing of the past, it’s hardly the body image notations of Dancing in the Dark, but Raye at least observes a common thread of fret and valid worry in the modern world. It’s the adaptations of modern language, the new meaning of words which are placed into contexts out of place for those not always online, the “it’s giving” frequency not an issue, but a daring moment from Raye who looks to date her own music with an offhand line that’ll be lost to time. This Music May Contain Hope has incredible instrumental occasions, but Raye does, from time to time, get in the way. When she sings, when she writes, she’s a master of the stage and studio. But when she reverts to this bouncy, hype hopeful giving credence to musicians who need the space to spring to life, it feels a bit contradictory to profile them yet present yourself in their moment too.
Raye falls into the pattern she suggested she’d avoid with Goodbye Henry, but it’s a marvellous piece of work all the same. This Music May Contain Hope dares to tie together the studio polish with the live show theatrics. Those who enjoy being introduced to the band, to being spoken to with that niceness, faux or not, by the performer, then this’ll work well. Introducing Green for his featured part is a nice touch to some, a reminder of where live entertainment is headed with its handholding and safety wheels to others. Not everyone has seen Pixies perform twenty-five songs and end without saying a word to the audience, though. Powerful vocal work, strong writing, and the occasional instrumental flourish is what Raye offers. One of the best voices around, and proving as much with Nightingale Lane, this is an outstanding achievement for Raye with just a few hangups that only apply to the curmudgeonly listener.