Rachel Chinouriri
I Think I Spoke Too Soon
PARLOPHONE
Dancing the night away is usually a liberating, beautiful thing—but sometimes the night catches up to you. On her second album, Rachel Chinouriri takes us out for a glitzy evening that’s both dreamy and nightmarish, and it’s not long before she’s alone at last call, reliving her regrets before stumbling into the street with lovesick-induced feelings of nausea. I Think I Spoke Too Soon takes us through a wickedly intoxicating spiral of overthinking, fraught with insecurity, paranoia, regret, and loneliness—but Chinouriri smooths it all over with a fake smile and a polished pop sheen.
Across the record, there’s a troubling sense of being on the outside looking in, and until the harsh reality of morning hits, Chinouriri tosses and turns with this uneasiness. In 2024, the English artist’s memorable debut impressed listeners with a pop-rock sound that often swayed toward hard-edged rather than lighthearted. Here, she opts for slinkier, sexier dance pop that both satisfies and stings, crafting a hazy, iridescent realm clouded by harsh self-judgment. Without ever losing any charm, Chinouriri distills the weight of insecurity and yearning into 12 stylish, crying-in-the-club songs. A fluttery, addictive synth guides her through the darkness of one endless evening, intensifying the undercurrent of longing.
This sounds best on “Make Believe,” rumbling like a car’s engine revving in the distance as she gives in to someone she shouldn’t: “If you didn’t love me then, love me now / Make me believe it.” Later, this synth builds up into a momentous chant on the messy but tasteful “Broken Chair,” where her self-consciousness puddles into misery after one too many drinks. “I feel so, so sad again / Where are all my party friends?” she asks. It’s part of the self-crafted world she’s unable to escape: a dancefloor where she’s barely holding back tears, a boring bar where she realizes she hates all her friends—even her own bedroom, where she catches glimpses of her past in the dark. Every corner hides a compelling story.
Throughout the album, we see Chinouriri’s self-love begin to buckle under the pressure of performing for everyone around her, of being slowly pulled back into a toxic relationship. Even on this fragile runway, Chinouriri takes us by the hand and leads us through the bar, marching on with luscious pop hooks and tears in her eyes. Opener “One Song Away From Crying” sounds like champagne flowing, filled with bubbly synths that subtly swirl with self-pity: “I’ve never looked better and I've never felt worse.” On the can’t-help-it anthem “Favourite Desperation,” she swims in ignorant bliss, and “Aaahhh!!!” is destined to be an instant fan favorite with its playful pop rock conveyed through distorted, megaphone-amplified vocals.
While Chinouriri might have taken fewer risks at the cost of cohesion, I Think I Spoke Too Soon is nothing short of mesmerizing. It maintains that characteristic, magical gleam that made her music so magnetic in the first place—all while spinning under lights and staggering in heels.
