Artists create for all sorts of reasons: some see it as their only form of self-expression, some simply do it for fun, some aim to make a living through art. For American R&B musician Ray Curenton, however, songwriting is his way of trying to make the world a little better.

In the past, Ray worked at public charities, wishing to help others in any way available to him. In 2019 he came to an interesting realisation: help does not have to be purely “material”, it can also come through music. He often addresses his listeners directly in his songs, trying to remind them of one simple message – not all is lost. A bright example of this is his most famous piece, “Make it with Me” – the track that, incidentally, was my own entry point into Curenton’s discography. I would describe his music as tender, at times melancholic, yet ultimately life-affirming and even inspiring.

His new album Ripples of the Past is, without exaggeration, the peak of Ray’s artistic journey, where difficult and complex emotions – above all linked to his past life in his hometown – intertwine with the main theme that runs through much of his work: the attempt to bring people hope.

It is symbolic that the album begins with “Of Framingham”. This song is a kind of message to his hometown, incorporating audio fragments from an old family video of young Ray travelling on holiday with his parents. Looking ahead, the album as a whole is largely devoted to his childhood, with later songs unfolding both a sense of nostalgia for long-lost times and reflections on the far less happy moments of his biography.

The next track, “Ground Zero”, continues the idea introduced in the opener. Here, Ray literally tells us about his very first childhood memory: “Amid the plains of Ohio stands a modest little house in the town of Framingham.” In fact, its lyrics are kept to a minimum, as the focus is less on the story itself than on the emotion – that aching longing for bygone days of carefree childhood. A very cinematic track that sounds exactly like a grand, expansive folk piece.

“NFC” is dedicated to a close childhood friend, and perhaps even a lover, who played an important role in Ray’s life. Judging by the final verses, they have long since fallen out of touch, leaving between them a strange sense of unfinished business. With calmness and a hint of curiosity, Ray asks this former companion: what did it all mean to you, and what kind of person have you become after our long separation?

From there, the mood shifts to more troubling thoughts in “Is That Alright?” What is striking here is how the soothing, pleasant melody contrasts sharply with the subject matter. In a painful moment when someone close to him became the target of bullying and mockery, Ray was unable to muster the courage to act. In the end, the relationship broke apart, and he never truly found the words to apologise. All that remains now is his quiet refrain: “Is everything alright?” only to answer his own question: “No, nothing is alright.” A soulful country track that stays true to the genre, yet differs from the country usually played on the radio. It’s gentle, melancholic, and the perfect soundtrack for a film about self-discovery.

“Once Familiar Friend” sets a genuinely sad tone. The track delves into Ray’s adolescent struggles with friendship and rejection. It examines a bond that shaped his understanding of human connections, while exposing the shame, awkwardness, and sense of being cast aside that haunted him. This experience deeply marked the way he would build future relationships and even his view of himself. His singing here is at its most vulnerable, etched with emotion, on the verge of breaking into tears.

Yet, just as a rainbow appears after rain, so too must self-hatred, doubt, and sorrow eventually give way to inner peace. That is what “Happiness” conveys. Entirely dedicated to self-acceptance – of his humour, his beauty, his voice, the whole essence of his soul – the track insists on leaving pain and failure in the past, while taking from them only wisdom and strength to move forward towards that long-awaited happiness.

Perhaps you have heard of the literary device known as the “unreliable narrator” – when everything said in a story may be entirely misleading. Ray plays with this concept in “Unreliable Narrator”: in one verse, he sings, “brilliant, grateful, empathetic,” and in the next, “spoiled, selfish, unstable.” Where, then, does the truth lie? Somewhere between destructive egotism and overwhelming compassion, perhaps.

“Sandpaper” stands apart from the rest of the release for at least one reason: it has not a single word of lyrics. Just a solitary minute of guitar sounds, as if scraped by sandpaper itself. And yet the scratches left by its rough surface seem to pierce deep into the heart.

The title track, “Ripples of the Past”, reminds us of the necessity of remembering where we come from. A beautiful acoustic waltz with Curenton’s voice presented in a fresh way. “For One, For All” reduces its message to a single repeated phrase: “It’ll get better.” Don’t pretend, and don’t suppress your feelings – only when washed in tears can one find acceptance, and only on the ruins of the past can one build the long-awaited brighter future.

Altogether, Ripples of the Past is something unique in music today. It is Ray’s reflection on both the brightest and darkest moments of his life. A journey in which he acts as a guide, leading us from the joyous freedom of childhood through early steps of adulthood, disappointment, and confusion – until at last, we, his listeners, arrive at a hopeful and uplifting ending. An excellent new release, perfectly suited to the melancholic mood of the oncoming autumn.

*This review was made possible by SubmitHub