Album Review: Rachel Chinouriri - 'I think I spoke too soon'

On her sophomore album, Rachel Chinouriri catches every unwashed reflection a mirror can possibly hold on a single night out.

Sometimes, the realms of who we are and who we want to be are separated by nothing but a mirror we need to face before it can be torn down – a friction Rachel Chinouriri addresses on her second studio album, ‘I think I spoke too soon’. Picking up the pace from the acoustic frameworks of her debut LP ‘What A Devastating Turn of Events’, for which she was double BRIT-nominated, Chinouriri maps the divide between our thoughts and actions across a 12-song span, framing the dancefloor as a high-tempo arena where the noise of the room and the voices in our head try to cancel each other out.

Released via Parlophone Records and co-executively produced alongside collaborator apob, the project expands her creative circle to include names like Lucy Dacus and Mary Weitz, while retaining the presence of her long-time co-writer Glen Roberts.

Placing 80s synth-pop alongside neon-soaked nu-disco and the pulse of electronica, the album reflects the sonic essence of an era known for hedonistic parties where nightlife told the story. “I think I was less going off musical influences and more going off of feeling”, the singer-songwriter says. This nostalgia is sprinkled across the production on cuts such as ‘One song away from crying’, the album opener and lead single on which Chinouriri – having “never looked better” yet “never felt worse” – attempts to dance away a deep internal conflict over a party-girl identity she doubts she ever truly had, and ‘Baby Steps’, laden with retro gated-reverb drums and a light-hearted synth lead.

‘Pretty girls’, grounded in agency and the simple splendour of womanhood, finds Chinouriri opting for freedom and indulgence rather than crisis as she sings, “I want to spend the night with pretty girls / Doing whatever we like.”

Throughout the tracklist, Chinouriri re-establishes herself as a finessed songwriter, peaking with a gut-punching post-party reckoning on ‘Broken chair’ – a track that finds her slowly drawing analogies between a discarded object on the street and her own fragile emotional state.

On ‘The good fight’ – the album’s penultimate track – the record further shifts into reflections on fake friendships, drinking and empty conversations: “Do you like the way you can't remember yesterday?” she cuts through on the drop. Born out of a sunset writing session in Hackney Wick, it stands as a pivotal track that cemented the trajectory the 27-year-old needed to complete this project.

Then, ‘Crash this car’ becomes the quiet journey home. The closing track builds up to a crescendo, effortlessly blending with Chinouriri’s dreamlike vocals before it winds down in its final few seconds, bringing a close to a body of music that is as much meant for dancing as it is for listening. Resonant long after the beat has faded out, ‘I think I spoke too soon’ echoes as a chaotic form of escapism that feels like a loop you cannot quite break out of without finally staring down your own reflection.

3.5/5

'I think I spoke too soon' is out now via Parlophone Records Limited.

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