Cry Love by Arya Rao doesn’t rush to win you over with grand gestures. It’s quieter, almost shy at first listen. I remember hitting play and expecting the usual emotive piano ballad, but what I got was something… stranger. Strange in a way that makes you pause, lean in, and try to grasp the threads she’s weaving. 

In Cry Love, Arya Rao crosses an internal boundary—between artist and listener, between art and what feels almost too personal to share publicly. She may not fear it, but her voice bares emotions. Theater? Absolutely. Soul? Undeniably. Here, you begin to sense how her background in opera resonates through her haunting vocals. There are moments when she nearly whispers, as if she’s speaking not to the world but to herself, leaving you, the listener, eavesdropping on these intimate confessions. 

And those strings. It’s like they’re crying, really. Not for show or sentimentality, but with an honesty that takes you somewhere raw. I found myself thinking about the times I’ve felt that quiet, hollow ache—whether it’s about people, places, or dreams that slip away. Arya’s melody becomes this vehicle for reflection, a soft confrontation with the fragile edges of love and hope. There’s a kind of unpolished elegance here that makes you think of flickering candlelight and rainy windows, something that feels timeless. 

I eagerly await Arya Rao’s self-titled EP at the end of the year. If the remaining tracks carry the same intensity and depth, this release could truly be a breakthrough. Arya Rao’s artistry commands attention with a restrained power that reveals new layers on every listen.

*Promoted content. All information provided is prepared in accordance with editorial standards and is intended to offer useful insights for readers.