With 'This Music May Contain Hope,' RAYE is officially entering a new era!
A new studio album centered on recovery and creative autonomy. Expands RAYE’s soul- and jazz-influenced pop sound. Pre orders available now.
Scheduled for March 27, 2026, This Music May Contain Hope is RAYE’s second independent studio album and a direct continuation of the artistic autonomy she reclaimed after leaving her major-label contract. The album is explicitly structured like a concept piece: across the 2LP vinyl, each side represents one of the four seasons, moving through emotional weather as a way of mapping change over time. In recent interviews around the announcement, RAYE positions the record as a form of comfort and self-medicine. Sonically, it continues RAYE's interest in classic songwriting and live-feeling arrangement with soul/jazz-pop sensibility, while sharpening it's thematic focus toward discipline, self-love, and the slow work of self healing. Highly recommended pre order!
“I want it to feel like a hug” (RAYE)
Speaking about the meaning behind the title, RAYE explained the record was created to support people through difficult moments. Instead of writing only from pain, she approached the album with the intention of offering reassurance — not just confession.“This music is supposed to remind you that things will be OK.”
From survival to healing
The concept runs throughout the structure of the record. Each section reflects a different emotional season, gradually moving from darkness toward acceptance. RAYE's debut album was widely seen as a release of bottled-up experiences, but this time she says the perspective has shifted.
RAYE says: “The first album was me surviving. This one is me learning how to live.” Rather than focusing purely on trauma, the new project explores recovery — trust, hope and emotional rebuilding. If RAYE's debut introduced the world to her honesty, This Music May Contain Hope looks set to show her healing. The album doesn’t abandon vulnerability — it reframes it. Instead of asking listeners to witness her pain, RAYE now invites them into something shared: “Hope is the point.”
Sonically, RAYE leaned into live instrumentation and performance energy while recording. “I didn’t want it to sound perfect — I wanted it to feel alive.” That approach continues the jazz- and soul-influenced direction she’s become known for, but with a warmer tone aimed at connection rather than confrontation.
Instead of polishing every note into digital precision, the production embraces small imperfections — breaths between vocal lines, the texture of real drums, and the natural dynamics of musicians playing together in the same room. The arrangements feel less loop-based and more performed, giving songs a sense of movement that shifts and grows rather than repeating in predictable patterns.
This approach deepens the jazz and soul influences RAYE's been moving toward, but here they function less as stylistic decoration and more as emotional delivery. Brass swells act like emotional peaks, piano passages create space for reflection, and quieter moments are allowed to remain fragile rather than being filled with effects. The result is music that feels conversational, almost like a live session unfolding in real time.
Compared to the tension-filled atmosphere of My 21st Century Blues, the sound palette is warmer and more open. The focus shifts from confrontation to connection — not just telling a story, but creating a space listeners can sit inside. Instead of dramatic crescendos designed to overwhelm, the songs build gently, prioritising intimacy and emotional clarity over spectacle. The album ultimately treats performance as part of the message: healing isn’t clean or controlled, and the production reflects that by allowing humanity to remain audible in every track.
