Rachel Chinouriri returns with her electrifying, glittery pop sophomore album ‘I think I spoke too soon’, discovering the beauty within the mess of growing up. 

There is something so weirdly beautiful about not having everything figured out in your twenties. The uncertainty, the questionable decisions, and the memories you replay at 2 am are part of discovering who you are. On her latest studio album ‘I think I spoke too soon’, Chinouriri turns chaotic reality into twelve tracks that lead listeners to dance through their own experiences. 

This project marks an evident shift from her indie-rock sound on her 2024 debut album ‘What A Devastating Turn of Events’. Chinouriri embraces more dancey, upbeat melodies layered with a polished pop sound, without losing the conversational songwriting and emotional honesty that connect her listeners to her art.

Opening track and lead single ‘One song away from crying’ creates the album’s focus, proving you can look like you have everything together while feeling completely overwhelmed underneath. With danceable production and a vulnerable feel, it instantly sets the tone for a record that places sadness and fantasy side by side.

‘Pretty girls’ follows, continuing the dreamy, glossy pop production; however, the album foregrounds Chinouriri’s personality, letting it take centre stage. ‘Favourite desperation’ catches the goofiness of developing a crush and embracing the kind of romance that can make even the most mindful person behave foolishly. Instead of presenting love as easy, she explores how it can make us feel ecstatic and slightly silly.

One of the record’s most fascinating traits is its enthusiasm to discover humour in awkward situations. On ‘I’m a star’, Chinouriri tilts into a delightfully wild sense of self-awareness, levelling confidence with lyrics like “I’ve worked so hard to earn my place” and “Oh no, the city’s burning, God what have I done?”, diving into the possibility that she may not have everything under control. Her refusal to take herself seriously makes her songwriting feel authentic and helps it connect with the listener.

Nevertheless, underneath the electrified production stands a more complex story. ‘Broken chair’ explores isolation beneath a social life, while ‘Parasite’ adds a darker bite by depicting a harmful relationship. These moments keep the record from becoming an uncomplicated celebration of nights out and irresponsible decisions. Alternatively, the dancefloor becomes a temporary escape, leaving the thoughts waiting outside. 

The homestretch is especially expressive, capturing the emotional weight of coming to terms with change. In 'The good fight', that feeling emerges through the painful realisation that you’ve outgrown certain routines and social circles, even when letting them go may be difficult. At the same time, ‘Crash this car’ is the perfect ending, bringing the album to a more reflective conclusion. Together, they suggest that identifying your own patterns isn’t the same as knowing how to break them. Sometimes, the first step toward change is simply admitting something has to change.

Even though the record’s polished production sometimes risks ironing out the rawness that makes Chinouriri’s earlier projects so touching, her character stays its toughest asset. The difference between cheerful instrumental and emotionally difficult lyrics gives the album its identity. 

Essentially, ‘I think I spoke too soon’ captures the awkward in-between phase of adulthood and growing up, where confidence can quickly turn into uncertainty and a brilliant night out can become a hard morning after. Chinouriri does not pretend to her listeners that she has it all worked out. Instead, she writes from experience, offering a more relatable piece that gives you permission to be a work in progress.