These noise-cancelling headphones can only go so loud. Rose Gray asks for life to be deafening. Her second album, Louder, Please, took four years to develop and two EPs preceded it. Bose has a failsafe in their headphones, surely, that prevents us from going higher than this. Gray wants to feel not just the slick satisfaction which comes from losing yourself to a nightclub or dancefloor, but the visceral and reactive momentum which carries us. Sweat, tears and drink are all objects of interest on this electropop release, one which hopes to capture the spirit of those poorly-lit clubs and bring them to the beach, to the brightness and freedom which comes from those sandy shores. Gray presents an optimistic flourish in the face of those harsh and realistic shortcomings. Escapism pop with one foot in the door to the real world, that is what Louder, Please, offers.
Inevitable comparisons to a huge release from last year are going to be made. Make no mistake, though, Gray heads for a more sobering experience, a darker comment on the anxieties and whirring noise of the club scene. Opener Damn does this well before it follows up with some knocks at the everyday dreams, settling down with a job and setting your sights on a marriage and holiday home. Gray finds herself as a fantastic counter-culture voice, a chance to challenge the norm with an upbeat vocal punch and an electronic creation which feels familiar yet gutsy. What is freedom? Is it enough to be aware of yourself on a dancefloor anymore? Probably not. But Free holds firm in what few acts of rebellion are left before we are shuffled off, typecast by the public. There is an aesthetic choice which allows Louder, Please to exist between modern electropop and the pop offerings found at the turn of the 21st century. Emotive and constantly skilful experiences are found in Gray’s latest work.
Wet & Wild captures that spirit while Just Two expands on it. Crucial to these dancefloor-based motions are finding the stories which unfold right there. Fights, lust, love. All of it is crucial to Louder, Please, because when the going gets tough we can always rely on music. Turn it up loud, drown out the horrors. Flourishes of house and synth can be found if you linger for long enough. A dedication to the life of the party on Party People may be a rancid experience for those who find themselves lingering in the corner, sipping their drink and trying to avoid the huge pupils and dripping wet polo shirts of the main event. But a party person to Gray is a feeling, a piece of the atmosphere, rather than a role to play. Angel of Satisfaction follows these tones up, the aftermath of those nights in the club charted well.
Louder, Please, confirms there is enough of a thriving scene in the UK club culture and late-night dramatics to make an entire album. Gray does not repeat herself but captures the microscopic moments. The rush of a last-minute night out, as walked through on Hackney Wick, is the best of the bunch because of how frightfully accurate it becomes even with the specifics making up one of many nights. We may forget the overall experience but the little flickers, succumbing to sound, are inevitable. We keep hold of those memories, as Everything Changes (But I Won’t) and say we will stay here forever. But a time comes when we speak to a loved one for the last time. Tear it up on a sticky club floor to those fine songs from history for one final night. It all comes to an end but Louder, Please, is welcomingly defiant. A reminder we can deal only in memories. We cannot return to those moments, but we can revisit them in our minds, where we pick them apart and hope to learn from it.
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