Something was in the water this spring. There are two artists who we would think got no business sounding alike; one a 21-year R&B vet outta Tappahannock and the other a South London girl who built this album like she extra seasoned. They turned around and reached for the same exact thing. The old vibes. The church vibes. The vibes granny had on vinyl before you was even a twinkle in yo daddy's eye.
Letâs start with Breezy, since his is the freshest. BROWN dropped May 8th, twelve albums deep, and from the jump itâs dressed up like a memory. The whole rollout had him styled like a â60s crooner standing under a marquee that read A Night of Soul. Twenty-seven songs, and tucked in the middle of all that is âFallinââ with Leon Thomas a record that doesn't sound like 2026...at all. It sound like a smoky room. A slow drag. Somebody daddyâs record crate. He opened the whole thing on âLeave Me Aloneâ and I am not going to lie...I hate a long intro! It was crazy long but I had to see it through my boy and when we got 1 min 39 seconds in I was in heaven and I knew we wanting to leave C Breezy alone! Brown took us from jazz to the club to church all while having this through line of doneness. Chris Brown been a lot of things across two decades: this is the first time that man flat out said put me next to the greats and then went and sat down in the pew to prove it.
Now Raye. If you slept on This Music May Contain Hope, wake up. The girl pulled Al Green. Al!! Green!!! The Reverend himself on âGoodbye Henry,â springtime soul in the middle of an album she built to move from winter dark to summer light, season by season. And right before that sheâs on âI Hate The Way I Look Todayâ doing full swing-era jazz, Ella Fitzgerald's spirit in the booth with her. This is the same woman whoâll put Hans Zimmer on one track and her own granddad on the next. She been saying for years that music is medicine, and Hope is her mixing the prescription out loud and half the ingredients came straight from the Black American songbook.
So hereâs what I keep sitting with. One from Virginia, one from London, and both of em pointed their nose in the same direction: backward. Toward jazz, blues, gospel, and soul. These albums blend being a classic and a deep cut. And that ainât a coincidence, itâs instinct. There is connection and synergy across both artists and their albums just like we do our fragrances. Every scent has a base note. The base note isn't the thing that hits you all loud when you first walk in thatâs the opening note, thatâs the flashy part. The base is the grower just sitting underneath holding the whole composition up, the scents that sit still in the room hours later when everybody gone home.
You donât always name it but youâd miss it instantly if it wasnât there. Jazz, blues, gospel thatâs the base note of everything these two are doing. Always has been. You can put a 2026 808 on top, you can put Rayeâs whole orchestra on top, but the warmth underneath is the juke joint and the choir stand. That smoky-room amber and that brown-liquor sweetness. That worn vinyl and old wood. When an artist reaches back like this, they aren't only being nostalgic for the sake of it they are remembering where the feeling comes from, and feeling is the only thing thatâs ever actually sold a record.
The roots are showing this year. And honestly? Letâem show. A scentrack built off this energy doesnât need to chase anything new. It just needs to smell like the foundation finally getting its flowers warm, dim, a little holy, and a little grown. The kind of room you donât wanna leave.
Granny toldem the way music used to sound doesn't have to be in the past! I can't even lie this made me love this jazzy soul type of music.Â
