U.K. polymath Wesley Joseph’s psychedelic, existential ballads play like a score for an Oscar-nominated thriller. Paired with hazy production, his diaristic words of self-reflection and self-deprecation ring out loud. The London-based singer, rapper, and producer has a knack for vivid storytelling on emotional despair and introspection that serves as makeshift therapy sessions. GLOW, his second project, centers the anticipation and fear of unlocking one’s own potential. This intimate collection of avant-R&B songs wallows in growing pains, embracing late-night anxieties of not feeling good enough for anyone, least of all yourself.
Across the record, Joseph airs stream-of-consciousness musings on fear and hopelessness with apparent ease and warmth, sounding like he’s ready to welcome the confidence to overcome. He first established that vision as a founding member of Birmingham musical collective OG Horse, which also included childhood friend and fellow singer Jorja Smith. In 2016, the Walsall-raised artist moved to London to study film. His 2021 debut, ULTRAMARINE, was soulful and upbeat, but relied heavily on cinematic aesthetics that left its themes of loneliness and longing feeling boring. GLOW is far more evolved.
Throughout the project, Joseph’s music evokes a mix of Pip Millett’s gritty neo-soul, Blood Orange’s colorful textural exploration, and SAULT’s funk-inspired melodies. His songs translate deep feelings into futuristic pop and R&B that sounds as sinister as it is grandiose. The project opens with its title track, a five-minute emotional goliath that dissects Joseph’s inner turmoil and desire to be perceived: “How do you see me/When you glow so bright/So bright?” he repeats in a melancholic tone over moody, blue-lit strings. What happens when dark thoughts are so ubiquitous that standing in the light feels like a distant dream?
On “I Just Know Highs,” a Leon Vynehall-produced track that twists Joseph’s eerily Auto-Tuned vocals into a flute instrumental, Joseph examines the personal lows that paradoxically make him feel most alive: “I’m lost out my mind/Well, most of my mind/If I look down I’m dying, or maybe I’m flying,” he croons. On “Cold Summer,” he juxtaposes optimistic bars on moving past self-deprecation against wistful strings that bring the emotional work within reach. GLOW sags at “25,” where Joseph’s personal stocktaking is stunted by a vague and repetitive wish to find “a different side of me.” The song ends abruptly before we find out which side that might be.
It’s the album’s least interesting moment, but the missed opportunity doesn’t overwhelm the breadth of Joseph’s skill to delineate his feelings in a way that evokes comfort and reflection. With GLOW, Joseph underlines the often scary process of uncovering insecurities with a sense of reassurance that suggests your own introspective forays could be just as rewarding. What lies on the other side of fear? GLOW’s warm and encouraging approach to finding the answers makes for a stellar introduction to a multidisciplinary artist dedicated to conquering his own limits.
