Album Review: SILK&SORROW by Ray Lozano

Ray Lozano strolls through the mirror maze with her long-awaited debut release.

Courtesy of Melting Pot Music.

Looking back, the critic ended up far more annoyed by Ray Lozano’s “Pairing Mode” than initially thought possible. Even calling it an “album” — yes, in quotes — might have been too generous. In truth, what Lozano and producer Samon Kawamura pulled off back then bordered on outrageous: they showed up with a bouquet of wonderful ideas that made listeners crave their vision of modern R&B, and then—what happened? Everything dissolved at the draft stage. Instead of finished songs, there were merely a dozen fragments, and with each new snippet, the critic felt increasingly cheated.

Now the Cologne-born singer and songwriter has returned, once again sharing production duties with Samon Kawamura. The warning stands: watch out. If they serve up another round of hors d’oeuvres until listeners are ravenous, without delivering a proper main course, the critic would likely still nibble away—let’s be honest. But the frustration would be real.

Thankfully, long story short: SILK&SORROW offers no grounds for renewed annoyance. It genuinely contains complete songs, which settle gently over old scrapes, just like the titular silk. Cool yet warming, it envelops and masks any anxieties; they don’t vanish, but at least they’re no longer stark and exposed. Artfully hidden, they seem almost decorative.

Ray Lozano’s singing remains a spectacle, forcing logic to do cartwheels. How can a voice sound both delicate and ethereal yet not even the slightest bit fragile or threadlike? It’s downright impossible by conventional physics. Take “Dragon,” for instance, plucked at random: her voice grounds the entire track while floating weightlessly above the beat. However much effort it takes to make everything appear so natural and uncontrived, listeners hear none of it.

The production steers all attention to her voice wherever it can. That’s fitting, considering most people would be thrilled to have Ray Lozano’s singing rouse them in the morning, guide them through the day, and lull them to sleep at night. Steeped in soul and garnished with a hint of melancholy, her voice could make even the ingredients on a can of ravioli sound profound and stirring.

Of course, Lozano doesn’t actually sing about colorants and emulsifiers. Staying true to R&B tradition, she addresses matters of the heart. “Can’t Love,” for example—set to the pulse of a heartbeat—wanders through that thorny no-man’s-land between I’d-like-to and I’m-too-afraid, inhabited by those who keep others at arm’s length for fear of heartbreak, only to let loneliness gnaw at them instead. (Show of hands to anyone who’s never been there.)

Focusing on Lozano’s voice also serves another purpose: it anchors the listener in tracks that might otherwise feel disorienting, thanks to their mirror-maze qualities. Each piece carries a subtle surrealism that’s tough to pinpoint. Like a dream with skewed proportions and perspectives, everything seems normal at first glance, yet something about it remains ever-so-slightly off.

In “Better Days,” for instance, a layer of electronic effect infuses the soul vibe. “KIKI” features synths warbling in a wonderfully odd manner behind the smooth bass line. “I Don’t Care” lives up to its name in spades, ignoring any expected rules: it bubbles and drips more than anticipated—and who’d have guessed Lozano would flirt (almost!) with a rap style this late in the album?

One tiny cause for complaint might be the nagging suspicion that Lozano could take a completely different vocal path if she chose, and yet SILK&SORROW leans a bit uniform in approach. Yes, the songs this time are fully fleshed-out—hooray for that—but they share a noticeably similar vibe and production style. Still, they all sound enchanting. Who’d really complain? Certainly not this critic. Not today.

Great (★★★★☆)

Favorite Track(s): “KIKI,” “I Don’t Care,” “Can’t Love”