One-word Rating: In a British Accent Slay!
This is it. Probably the review I have been both ecstatically waiting to write and dreading over at the same time. I have so much, probably too much, to say about Escapism. by Raye & 070 Shake. It’s been sitting atop my most-played songs playlist (Called On Repeat on Spotify) since its release in October. Based on my Last.fm data, which I started using in November, I have streamed Escapism. an insane 154 times in the last three months. That’s almost twelve hours total for one song. I won’t even get into the fact that two other singles from her forthcoming album My 21st Century Blues, titled Black Mascara and Hard Out Here, sit at the 2nd and 4th position in my most-played songs with 46 and 38 scrobbles respectively. To say it simply I’m obsessed with Raye and the trajectory of her career is a fascinating story that I want to quickly touch on before I review every detail of Escapism.
To keep it short, here’s a few things you need to know about Raye. First, she’s British. Before you start booing, please know that she’s one of the few good things to come at of that hellhole besides the Spice Girls and beans on toast. She was born in the district of Tooting, which is . . . so unfortunate name-wise. If I were her, maybe just say London. She debuted with with an underground R&B sound in 2014, but gained popularity with the British public with the painfully-average dance pop song You Don’t Know Me, which charted highly in multiple European countries worldwide in 2016. Raye has been public about the shift from R&B to pop that was forced upon her to appeal to commercial audiences following the success of You Don’t Know Me, with subsequent hit singles Secrets with Regard (2019) and Bed with David Guetta and Joel Corry (2021) charting within the UK top ten but never giving Raye a solo moment. With a career spanning 7 years under the label Polydor, Raye came out with a statement in June of 2021 stating that her debut album wouldn’t be released unless she was able to get solo success with the single Call on Me (which peaked at 64 in the UK). She went independent in July of 2021, and in turn began the rollout of her debut album My 21st Century Blues with four singles:
- Hard Out Here: Her first solo single as an independent artist, Hard Out Here is a heavy-hitting Experimental Rap song with a “weird” (like good weird) combination of string sections, fucking cunt as fuck synths that I want to inject into my veins, standard hi-hats throughout the verses, and sporadic moments of pitchshifted and layered vocals that give off pissed-off church choir vibes in the best way possible. Raye rides the beat effortlessly, making a song with lyrics detailing the ins and outs of the straight white male dominated music industry and her struggles within it a danceable, pop-your-pussy-esque song. Her tone ranges from nonchalant to angry to cunty in a perfect encapsulation of her journey to where she is now. Their are so many quotable lines that stick with you, my favorites being “smile in your face, all of the pricks all of the wankers” in her thick British accent and “You start to wonder why I’m Christian, without the Lord I take my life for all the times I’ve been a victim”, which is heavy-hitting and emotionally resounding. I think of all of the singles, Hard Out Here is the closest in style and energy to Escapism. and should be getting at least the same amount of attention. To quote the undeniable best part of the song, “BABY I BOUNCE, BABY I BOUNCE, BABY I BOUNCE BACK!”
- Black Mascara: Goddamn Black Mascara is such a hit. It has everything you need for a perfect club track: an opening that takes Raye’s vocals and steadily adds violins and a dulled beat before breaking down into a repeated chorus of “Done to me, Done to me, Done to me” that hits so hard. The track is perfectly paced, with moments where the instrumental slowly fades away before coming back harder each time. On my first listen, I was shocked with how experimental the production was, with the beat drop following the second verse hitting EVEN HARDER, and the subsequent climax of the track combining these two into an orgasmic array of techno house perfection being the cherry on top of this sublime work of art. It’s definitely the safest of the four singles when compared to her Polydor days, but it also follows her at her most confident and authentic presentation as an artist. The lyrics surrounding her experience with being roofied cuts deep, and you can’t help but resonate with how much more personal and impactful this song is as a statement by Raye. Music is a powerful tool for healing and expression, and the authenticity of Black Mascara‘s message stands true to the “Real Raye” just as much as Hard Out Here and Escapism. does.
- The Thrill Is Gone: If you watch any performance of Raye’s from recent years, many a comment will compare her live renditions of her hits to the work of R&B/Jazz/Soul/All-Around-Legend Amy Winehouse. With The Thrill Is Gone, Raye makes her first major step into this genre of Neo Soul that happens to stick out from the rest of the singles due to its upbeat tone and “one-take” relaxed singing style. There’s still elements that carry through to The Thrill Is Gone, such as an abundance of adlibs and experimental production (in this case a post-chorus tempo change and an unusual structure that feels like three separate songs in one) but altogether it is the outlier among the more standard pop foundations of the other three. It’s more guitar oriented with the inclusion of jazzy trumpets, with lyrics that are more general/less detailed that pertain to a dying relationship. It speaks to the quality of the four tracks that my personal least-streamed track still ranks among my favorite releases of 2022. Although this might be because it was released as the B-side to Escapism, which undeniably outshined The Thrill Is Gone commercially and critically.
Now that I’ve not-so-quickly covered the backstory of Raye and the previous singles for My 21st Century Blues, let’s get into the true star of the show: Escapism!
I really love Escapism. Like really love it. I hold so many memories around this song; listening to it ten times in a row as I walked to my college classes at way-to-early-times (like 9:30 in the morning, which is early for me), blasting it in my car at full volume with the windows down to convert the surrounding drivers into fans of Raye (Rayecists, if you will), and singing it to myself in the most butchered attempt of a British accent the world has probably ever hear. It’s my personal nomination for Song of The Year, Record of the Year, and throw in a Best New Artist for Raye while we’re at it.
What I love most about Escapism is that it is Raye’s biggest hit. Imagine myself, a fan of Raye since her EP Euphoric Sad Songs was released a few years ago, seeing an independent artist with immense talent not only getting her highest charting song as an independent artist, but also as the leading artist on the track. At the time of writing this, it is on track to be Raye’s first #1 song in the UK, has already peaked at #1 in Ireland, and has become her first charting song in America at #74. The best part about this is that this success is mostly built around how good of a song Escapism is. Without any radio push and only one televised performance, the track managed to become a global hit through word of mouth and viral TikToks alone.
From the opening of the track, you can’t help but get chills from how off-putting the G-Funk whines are as they fade in and out. And then the drums come in, and now your wig has flown off and your mouth’s open in shock on how hard it hits. And then the G-Funk whines come back in during the pre-chorus and you’re just like “OKKKKKKKK” this is just perfect. But guess what? There’s more! The chorus pops in to break up the tempo and give Raye’s vocals a chance to shine. And then the second verse repeats everything again, but this time there’s a few moments where the beat falls away and synthy backing vocals accompany Raye’s lone voice to provide some variation. And now you’re thinking . . . Where does 070 Shake factor into all of this? And your answer is provided after the second chorus as the instrumental slows into a distant amalgamation of piano and bass and more G-Funk whines as 070 Shake comes into the forefront as a voice of reason with occasional lines from Raye sprinkled into the mix. And now Raye is back, and so is the instrumental from the verses, and you can’t help but think that’s the end of the bridge and the structure of the song will just repeat itself, and then guess what? It does the opposite. Raye’s voice is pitched down so low (similarly to Hard Out Here) with a breakdown featuring violins and more hip-hop drums before her own repeated lyrics “Night!” become part of the beat and she comes back in with her final lyrics. And then the track ends, and you can’t help but wonder . . . Is this the best song ever?
The answer is yes, yes it is. The Mike Sabath production isn’t the only thing that makes this song a five-star eatery. Lyrically, the storytelling and journey that this song takes you on in it’s 4:32 runtime is another factor of it’s success.
The first part of the verse follows Raye, drunk and lonely and most importantly wealthy, lusting over a man at a bar. But then she changes her cadence for the ever-iconic lyrics that were responsible for the tracks virality on TikTok:
A little context if you care to listen
I find myself in a shit position
The man that I love sat me down last night
And he told me that it’s over, dumb decision
There’s a comedic irony that is lost on many who use this soundbite as a transition on TikTok, because the whole point of this portion is to contextualize her behavior and justify her actions. You can’t help but empathize with this broken person, looking for anything and anyone who can fix the holes in her heart. Instead of, I don’t know, going to therapy or something, she takes the easier yet less effective approach of partying and fucking her feelings away. She’d rather burn down every bridge to get back to how she was before this failed relationship then address her problems. The funny thing is, it doesn’t explicitly glamorize it. It just happens that the vibe of the song is so undeniably cunty that you can’t help but envy this hot person (emphasis on hot person) living their life in the moment. Who wouldn’t want to do drugs and be beautiful yet flawed and have money and hit on guys and shit? I know a ton of people who dream of this behavior. after all, Raye is and I quote covered in “diamonds”, “in a little black dress and this shit is sittin”, has a “Bentley”, and is rocking a “Prada two-piece” so who is to say she doesn’t have her shit together? Only when the chorus come in does Raye reveal that she just wants a temporary fix that takes the pain away. The aforementioned drugs and alcohol and sex drown out everything else, even the people trying to help her. She doesn’t value her life, as seen in the lyrics:
Speedin’ down the highway, sippin’
Mixin’ pills with the liquor ‘cah fuck these feelings
I left everyone I love on read (uh-huh)
Spilling secrets to the stranger in my bed (uh-huh)
I remember nothing, so there’s nothing to regret (uh-huh)
I think there is so much you can interpret from these lyrics, but similarly to Hard Out Here each one manages to be instantly iconic and they all flow together effortlessly. Raye really shines as a songwriter, and combine that with this track’s production by Mike Sabath (responsible for one of my favorite Sabrina Carpenter track’s In My Bed) it’s just sooo sooo sooo much fun. It’s ok to be broken. It’s honestly kinda hot. In a fucked up way.
Also props to the music video for Escapism. Before I watched it, I had started writing a rough treatment for a self-produced version by yours truly. Turns out me and Raye are on the same wavelength, because so many of my ideas happened to be included in scenes throughout. Some of my favorite moments include Raye’s incredible ensemble, the scene in the limousine, the part where she’s being dragged across the floor, and the ending with that girl in the fierce bob. The production values are through the roof for an independent artist, but obviously the results speak for themselves.