Album Review: People Stories by UMI
By foregrounding other voices while remaining unmistakably herself, UMI transforms her second studio album into an open archive where they can find fragments of their own lives and feel less alone.
UMI’s first release on Epic Records does not feel like a calculated label debut. It resembles a collection of conversations—monologues distilled from diaries, notes jotted in the margins of therapy sessions, and exchanges overheard in grocery lines. To understand how she reached this point, it helps to remember UMI’s trajectory. She grew up in a home where piano and drums filled the living room. She started writing songs before elementary school, kept them in a notebook, and eventually recorded them with a USB microphone in her bedroom. Uploading covers to SoundCloud and YouTube, she quickly discovered that copyright strikes pushed her toward originality. The teenager turned this obstacle into an opportunity, sharing her first original singles in 2017.
Those tracks helped her land on Spotify’s Fresh Finds playlist and opened for rapper ODIE. In 2018, she released Interlude, a four‑song EP that introduced her whispery, lo‑fi blend of R&B and folk influences. “Remember Me,” an early single, became a streaming hit and a testament to her commitment to representation; its video showed couples across racial, class, and gender lines, with UMI explaining that “no matter who you love or how you love, we all hurt the same in the end.” She left the University of Southern California in 2019 to pursue music full‑time, further illustrating that her path forward would be self‑determined. The independence showed in a run of short projects. Balance (May 2019) paired songs like “Ordinary” and “Down Ro Earth” with meditative interludes, while October’s Love Language added more overt romanticism without sacrificing the calm that defined her earlier work. The EP Introspection arrived that June and opened with a song of the same name, where she murmurs, “It’s all in my mind, it’s only emotion/Just look for a sign and swim into the ocean.”
Following Introspection, UMI revisited those songs with Introspection Reimagined in 2021, layering orchestral touches and reworking melodies to suggest that healing is iterative rather than linear. The metamorphosis set the stage for her 2022 full‑length album Forest in the City. Released in May of that year, the project included singles like “Moonlit Room,” “Whatever U Like,” and “Sorry” and anchored her first headlining tour. The years after Forest in the City expanded UMI’s reach. She collaborated with global stars like BTS’s V and fellow R&B explorers, and she released the EP Talking to the Wind in January 2024, another collection of contemplative songs built around airy synths and whispered affirmations. Though these works increased her profile, they never abandoned the independent spirit that defined her earlier days. That independence is also evident in her decision to keep recording much of her material at home.
As an official second studio album, People Stories marks a new chapter not because it chases trends but because it expands the narrative field. UMI has said that the album was inspired by stories she heard from loved ones, fans, and strangers. Rather than filtering these anecdotes through a tidy thematic arc, she collects them as they are: contradictory, incomplete, sometimes mundane. That approach surfaces in the way songs begin mid‑thought or drift into spoken word. Throughout the album, a therapist’s voice appears at the end of tracks, offering reflections that feel like someone else closing a journal for you. “The Universe,” for instance, is a meditative reflection on trust, fate, and the unseen forces that guide personal growth. UMI questions her own desires and motivations, asking whether she’s chasing something ephemeral or if there’s a deeper purpose to her journey.
Her voice is soft, airy, and soothing, creating an almost ethereal atmosphere that mirrors the song’s themes of trust and surrender. There is a sense of vulnerability in her singing; she doesn’t push her voice but instead allows it to flow gently over the melody, as if embodying the very concept of letting go. “The Limit” is built around soft synths and gentle percussion that create a dreamlike atmosphere. She paints vivid images of a relationship at its breaking point, where even the smallest actions are charged with meaning: “Keys on the table, reach for the door/Trying not to slip on your tears on the floor.” Her penmanship on “Rain Rain” is a delicate and introspective piece that uses rain as a metaphor for emotional turbulence. The sonic backdrop mirrors the lyrical themes, enhancing the sense of melancholy and introspection without overwhelming it, even if it’s a detriment on some songs.
The lead single, “Hard Truths,” sets the tone for the album campaign, and it might be a complete 180 if you’re a longtime fan. Built on a sparse groove and anchored by a bassline that refuses to settle into a predictable pattern, the song features a guest verse from Atlanta singer‑rapper 6LACK. UMI’s opening lines lay out a conflict between external success and internal emptiness; she juxtaposes images of expensive shoes and late‑night drives with admissions of loneliness. The hook returns to a simple realisation: emotional wealth matters more than material accumulation.
You could have a nice house, but going home lonely
Closet full of nice clothes, who’s holding you closely?
You could cash out, that’s nice, partyin’ all night
But you’re empty inside, are you alive?
6LACK answers with a grounded verse that approaches the same question from an older sibling’s perspective.
“10 AM” takes a different tack. Where “Hard Truths” grapples with existential questions, this song revels in the quiet intimacy of waking up next to someone. It opens with the sound of fingers brushing nylon strings, and the first lyric—“Waking up and you’re still here, whisper secrets in your ear”—places in a bedroom bathed in morning light. The chords echo bossa nova progressions, and a faint tambourine shakes on the off‑beat, suggesting the rhythms of a slow dance. UMI writes about mundane domestic routines—pouring coffee, letting sunlight in—but uses them to illustrate a kind of devotional practice. The bridge introduces a subtle key change as she sings about the fragility of the moment; her vocal pitch climbs, but she never belts.
One of the noteworthy songs, “Right/Wrong,” highlights a sense of inner conflict, where the boundaries between right and wrong are blurred by emotion: “Is it right when I don’t know what I don’t know?” The backdrop is minimalistic yet lush, built around smooth R&B textures with hints of neo-soul influence. The soundscape features soft percussion, mellow keys, and airy synths that create an atmosphere both soothing and reflective. Elsewhere on the album, UMI turns everyday encounters into meditations. “It’s Been a While” begins with her humming over a simple acoustic riff before she contemplates the way memories can distort into nostalgia. She compares returning to an old neighbourhood to trying on a childhood coat—it still fits, but it no longer feels like home.
Two songs released together, “Somewhere New” and “What Now,” show her interest in duality. “Somewhere New” invites the listener into a restless headspace. The rhythm shuffles, and the bassline hops rather than walks. UMI sings about driving without a destination, searching for a place that feels both familiar and undiscovered. Rather than expressing wanderlust as an escape, she frames it as a path to self‑knowledge—moving to see oneself from a different angle. The arrangement conjures early‑2000s R&B; synth stabs recall Brandy’s Full Moon era, while the guitar licks hint at John Mayer. In contrast, “What Now” slows the tempo and focuses on indecision. The protagonist watches a relationship dissolve and asks what to do with the space that follows. The hook circles around a question without answering it, and the music emphasises unresolved chords. It’s a song for sitting in uncertainty, and it resists the temptation to provide resolution.
Another track, “Grocery Store,” builds an entire narrative around an aisle conversation. Over a gentle piano loop, she describes bumping into an old friend between the fruit and cereal. Instead of inserting a dramatic twist, she focuses on the awkwardness of small talk and the emotions that linger after such encounters. The song’s greatest surprise is its climax: rather than swelling to a cathartic peak, the arrangement strips back to just her voice and the buzz of fluorescent lights, underscoring the theme that life’s most significant moments often pass unnoticed. An immediate standout comes from “Mango Sticky Rice,” a metaphor for sweetness and comfort, drawing on the imagery of the popular Thai dessert to symbolize the tender moments shared between lovers. There’s an effortless flow to her delivery, as if she’s speaking directly to someone she cares about deeply. This vocal approach makes each line feel personal and sincere.
Throughout People Stories, UMI balances storytelling with sonic experimentation. She weaves elements of folk, R&B, and early‑2000s pop into a patchwork that refuses to stay within one genre. “Saferoom” gives off these reverb-laden elements, giving it a dreamy texture, and “Pink Camo” soundscape is minimalist but lush, with warm guitars that ebb and flow like gentle waves. However, a broader approach could’ve broadened a space where vulnerability feels safe and even beautiful. This eclecticism reflects her upbringing—listening to R&B, soul, gospel, and Japanese pop/rock—as well as her admiration for artists who blurred boundaries. Her approach to rhythm is similarly fluid; some songs drift without drums, while others snap into syncopated patterns. Rather than chasing a cohesive “sound” (which could’ve helped make the album a true gem), she prioritizes narrative coherence. The stories themselves provide the glue.
That narrative arc also ties back to her career. Signing with Epic does not read as an abandonment of her independent roots; if anything, it gives her access to more resources for presenting the stories she has always told. The presence of a therapist on the album underscores her commitment to healing as a collective act. She has long used live shows as spaces for somatic exercises and guided breathing. On People Stories, she brings those practices into the recorded format, reminding listeners that art can be a form of communal care. Looking back at her journey—from a teenager uploading songs to SoundCloud, through her self‑released EPs and introspective projects, to a debut album that turned city noise into lullabies and an upcoming record that archives other people’s stories—one sees an artist who grows by expanding her circle. People Stories is not a culmination so much as an extension of that ethos. By foregrounding other voices while remaining unmistakably herself, UMI transforms her second studio album into an open archive where her fans can find fragments of their own lives and, in doing so, feel less alone.
Solid (★★★½☆)
Favorite Track(s): “It’s Been a While,” “Mango Sticky Rice,” “Right/Wrong”