(Atlantic)Evoking an astonishing range of artists, the US singer follows up her huge hit Love Me Not with stylistic diversity \u2013 and lyrics that defy her doubters<\/p>\n
It sometimes seems like no musical success in the 2020s is allowed to pass without some degree of online controversy. There are accusations that the artist in question is an \u201cindustry plant\u201d \u2013 a phrase which, as far as can be discerned, can basically be applied to anyone with a manager or a label deal \u2013 or that there\u2019s something deceptive about the way in which they\u2019ve been promoted, or that they\u2019re possessed of some other form of moral bankruptcy that reflects not merely on the performer but the people who like them. Which brings us to Love Me Not, an ostensibly harmless 2024 track by Chicago singer-songwriter Ravyn Lenae.<\/p>\n
After enjoying a burst of online virality, it became a huge hit single, making the Top 5 on both sides of the Atlantic. Taken from Bird\u2019s Eye, an album that also featured collaborations with Childish Gambino and Ty Dolla $ign, its blend of retro-soul styling, distorted guitar arpeggios and infernally catchy chorus was noticeably poppier than Lenae\u2019s previous work: it came with a remix that featured British bedroom-pop star Rex Orange County. You could understand why fans of the glitchy, abstract R&B found on 2015\u2019s EP Moon Shoes, or of her more neo soul-flavoured debut album, 2022\u2019s Hypnos, might consider it a straightforward bid for mainstream acceptance. But you\u2019d argue against it necessitating an online interrogation that, Lenae has suggested, involved not just \u201cpicking apart what kind of music I make\u201d but \u201cquestioning my identity and Blackness\u201d.<\/p>\n
Said interrogation seems to have prompted a degree of doubling-down. The first thing you hear on Blue Island, as opener Handle gets under way, is another earworm pop chorus, followed by a squeal of feedback and a distorted electric guitar arpeggio that feels faintly grungy or, more specifically, that recalls the early 90s moment where grunge began having an effect on the sound of mainstream artists. It\u2019s followed by Familiar Dreams, retro pop-soul that sounds almost exactly like what you\u2019d expect of a well-turned follow-up to Love Me Not. Meanwhile, Lenae\u2019s list of inspirations for the album features not just Santigold and Janet Jackson but Blondie, the Cranberries, the Sundays and, most surprisingly, Martin Rev. If Wish You Well definitely sounds like a charming gene-splice between the Cranberries and the soft-hued Janet Jackson of Runaway or That\u2019s The Way Love Goes, it\u2019s a little harder to discern the musical influence of Rev\u2019s confrontational electronic punk duo Suicide on Blue Island. But perhaps it\u2019s present in more of a spiritual capacity, Suicide having relentlessly pursued their own artistic path in the face of some fairly concerted efforts by the public to get them to stop.<\/p>\n
There are certainly a lot of lyrics here that present as love songs but seem suspiciously like they\u2019re about something else: \u201cI\u2019m leaving without you\u201d; \u201cbreaking those walls \u2026 can never be wrong if you don\u2019t go where everybody goes\u201d; \u201call those limits to your pleasure keep me climbing\u201d. And there\u2019s palpable glee in the album\u2019s sudden stylistic shifts. The 90s R&B-infused Never Let Me Go and Babygirl rub up against In & Out\u2019s sparkly alt-rock; Potential proceeds along prettily enough in pop-ballad form before it unexpectedly erupts into a squall of guitar noise and a ferocious, juddering rhythm that sounds remarkably like Squarepusher or Aphex Twin. You could suggest its shifts carry a hint of the streaming playlist so eclectic it only really makes sense to the person who made it, but better that than an artist audibly chasing currently popular trends. And Blue Island isn\u2019t as jarring as that suggests, partly because of the unifying power of Lenae\u2019s voice \u2013 a lovely, breathy soprano \u2013 but largely because the writing is buffed to a state of pop perfection.<\/p>\n
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Its hit rate isn\u2019t perfect. There are a couple of moments among the 14 tracks that feel a bit boilerplate: an acoustic duet with Dominic Fike, Reputation, is pleasant enough but could be the work of pretty much anyone; the electro-influenced beat of Saturday Night is great, the song itself not so much. And it could maybe have done with a couple more moments like Potential, when Lenae metaphorically lets her freak flag fly \u2013 not least because when she does, it\u2019s hugely exciting, as on the chaotic, distorted closer Let Us In. It\u2019s another song that seems to obliquely address the controversy caused by Love Me Not \u2013 you could read its lyrics as a plea for acceptance for artists that decline to fit a standard mould \u2013 but, in truth, Blue Island has already answered Ravyn Lenae\u2019s critics long before it appears: its collage of styles makes for an original, idiosyncratic pop album, something worth celebrating rather than picking apart for ulterior motives.<\/p>\n
The Durutti Column \u2013 Your Shadow at Morning
\n Beneath its TS Eliot-inspired title lurks a sun-dappled but melancholy drift of electric and acoustic guitar: Vini Reilly doing what Vini Reilly does exceptionally beautifully.<\/p>\n