Raye
This Music May Contain Hope

THE REVIEW

On March 27, 2026, the album of the year was released. If, by chance, it doesn’t turn out to be so, it’ll mean we’ll have not one but two of the most important albums of the decade that year—probably fundamental for the last thirty years of international music.

Am I exaggerating? Obviously, for me, NO.

I’m talking about “𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞.” by Raye

Why am I so convinced of this? Let’s start with the simple, yet far from trivial, things.

It is sung by a person incredibly in tune.

It’s played by multiple flesh-and-blood musicians.

This album may contain hope, as the title suggests, and it will probably contain 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐲 awards (and if not, to hell democratically with all the voters), but it also contains a ton of beautiful, radiant intentions and reasons to look to the future of music with optimism thanks to this magnificent artist.

The hope lies in 𝐑𝐚𝐲𝐞’s lyrics: a torrent of words about second chances, adaptation and understanding, frustration and redemption, belonging and acceptance, familiarity (in “Fields.” you’ll hear the voice of grandfather Michael, in “Joy.” that of “Amma,” and in “Absolutely,” younger sisters just 21 years old), good intentions, personal rebirth, resilience and the ability to rebuild oneself after disappointments—including romantic ones—respect, and inclusion of others. Are we still talking about clichés? Well, in 2026, these themes are absolutely “revolutionary” and countercurrent both in mainstream and in the lives of so many who use the word “do-gooder” negatively—and who might just need, from time to time, a bit of positivity to begin shifting their defeatist, decadent mindset.

This album features a refreshing mix of genres for any lover of the “second art.” The British artist’s jazz and swing roots blend with electronica, dance, afrobeat, but also dream-pop, R’n’B, and hip-hop. Effortlessly moving from The Supremes to Destiny’s Child, from ‘60s musicals to recent soundtracks (the collaboration with Hans Zimmer on “Click Clack Simphony,” the album’s third single, deserves special mention), from symphony orchestra to brass ensemble, with stops at pads and synths along the way.

At times, you can also sense a classical—almost operatic—vocal delivery, which contrasts beautifully with Raye’s intensely SOUL singer-songwriter spirit. She sings as if talking to you, sometimes yelling right in your face, unfiltered. She breathes life into the “talking” moments with the finesse of a seasoned actress, reaching deep into your soul. There’s so much soul here that among the featured artists there’s also 𝐀𝐥 𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 (“Goodbye Henry.”), who, in my opinion, is one of the greatest male performers of all time.

This album contains hope... hope for the “music business,” because bringing it to light took years of human and legal battles. Raye and her team had to extricate themselves from a restrictive contract with Universal/Polydor, who didn’t consider her music fit for the record market (quellibravicheccicapiscono!).

After years of silence and hardship, “𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞” (Sony affiliate, but with operational independence) invested in the 27-year-old from Tooting. Given the success of her debut album (1.2 billion streams for the single “Escapism” in 2023) and the release of the single “Where is My Husband!” (the only song on the album ending with an exclamation mark and the first single released from the record), the future is looking bright and sunny.

This album contains hope for people’s attention spans and listening skills (fortunately, I witnessed it firsthand at her live in Bologna—a faint hope exists, and it needs to be nurtured), since the song lengths range from the 3:14 of “Stick and Bones.” to the 6:17 of “I Know You’re Hurting.” (the song I’d pick to accompany this review if a promotional video existed), for a total of 17 tracks. The first is an INTRODUCTION explaining how the album was conceived and matured (divided into four parts for the four seasons), and the last is a vocal THANK YOU—spoken credits for every single contributor involved in the making of this album; a small tribute to the “art workers,” those always behind the scenes.

𝟏𝐡𝟏𝟑𝐦𝐢𝐧𝟑𝟎𝐬𝐞𝐜 of music that could be labeled as POP (although it’s much more than that—just as Michael Jackson’s works were, back then) in an era where the average listener won’t accept tracks over 2’30”, where record labels impose these time constraints, and because we live in a “tiktokable” era where shorts last uncazzodisecondi, all this is a miracle for the record industry.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘣𝘶𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘫𝘰𝘺, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘺, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘯, 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘺𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝙛𝙞𝙡 𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘥, 𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺, 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘴, 𝘰𝘯𝘦’𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺’𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘺, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦.

Lastly, I’ll say that Raye is, in my humble opinion, one of the most interesting songwriters (being credited as the writer of both lyrics and music, and also as co-arranger along with Tom Richards, Chris Hill, and Pete Clements) of our time, but even more so, I believe she is truly one of the greatest 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. We’re talking about the highest echelons in the history of music. She has everything, absolutely everything—I can’t find a weakness even if I try, comparing her to the greatest female singers from all genres connected with modern music.

An album that deserves full marks, no ifs or buts, and if at the end of the year it doesn’t turn out to be my favorite album, I’ll be happy—because it’ll mean that not only does this album contain hope, for me, for everyone, for music, for the world.

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 Rachel Agatha Kean