Why can’t you stay?
Back in 2012, unknown band Rhye released a few, beautifully produced videos with sensual sounds, gorgeous imagery, and the voice of a singer that sounded wonderfully delicate. Soon, they were beginning to peak interest, with comparisons being made to Sade and other sensual, female artists. People were surprised when they found out the lead singer was actually Mike Milosh, a man. The band then released their debut album Woman in 2013, but still, they were considered a mystery – the very epitome of anonymity. However, the more people listened, the less that mattered, and soon, Rhye was starting to become one of the years best artists.
Personally, I don’t really think Milosh sounds all that feminine, but I can see why others do. I just believe that his voice is just a softer falsetto and an overall different sensation that others are used to, which might be attributed to be described as more feminine. In “Open,” a song dedicated to his wife, this effect is easily heard. Minimal, yet atmospheric beats along with delicate guitar surrounds his voice and highlights it to be incredibly intimate and sensual. The lyrics are deeply personal and poetic, and it immediately gained attention. As a matter of fact, simple, unfettered beats and tones seem to run rampant in this album, which adds to it’s overall sensuality. “One Of Those Summer Days” and “Verse” are prime examples, and it also shows Rhye’s infatuation with basic R&B beats and a love of synth-pop. The inclusion of beautiful orchestral interludes that show up every so often work to soften the edge that appears with the changing metallic beats, and that dual effect works in their favor. There are also times where the tempo seems to quicken and hasten, as seen in their other single (and my personal favorite) “The Fall.” That gorgeous repeated piano introduction grabs my heart every single time, and it only gets better from there. It’s incredibly difficult to capture attention with a song that uses such repeated, unchanging beats, but it works simply because of a wonderfully unique voice. I only say this because – and let’s be honest here – the main attraction with Rhye is Mike Milosh’s exquisite voice, and it’s what makes the band that much more amazing. In “The Fall,” that magic quality of his is amplified, and the swelling of his voice with the soft drumming is other-worldly and incredibly hypnotizing. “3 Days” and “Last Dance,” the other more upbeat tracks, play more with instrumentals and electronic effects, but the vocals and main bassline are still the main contenders. And finally, “Woman,” the title track, effortlessly closes the album with a feeling of inspiration and a sort of silken tenacity that consists of mostly sweltering and radiating vocal breaths that shake and waver in the most gorgeous ways. It wraps up the album abruptly, but does so gracefully and wonderfully.
The two members of Rhye refuse to show their faces, at least, for the moment, because they believe that the music is really the only thing that matters. It’s inspiring, depressing, and lovely all at once, with the desirable effect of putting listeners in a trance, and I have a small feeling that they won’t remain anonymous for very long because of it. Ultimately, They want people to form their own opinions of their music and sculpt their own interpretations without being distracted by the images that surround it, and that delicately placed veil allows you to better understand their main focus – love and lack thereof.