Ray Laurél

For Ray Laurél, music is an extended part of his identity, and something that they are committed to honouring authentically. While most artists tend to be surrounded by music at a young age, Laurél had to seek it out for himself. The 21-year-old, who hails from North West London, tells me that instead of going for the conventional pop records that their peers were listening to, they were drawn to the UK's underground electronic scene in the early 00s — a sound, which would later influence their own. Touchstones included the likes of Hudson Mohawke, Sampha, James Blake, and particularly, Jai Paul: "He was literally from down the road, and as an Indian guy, it was just nuts."

Initially, Laurél wanted to pursue music production, and proceeded to teach themself everything he could about the craft from their bedroom. This, in part, stemmed from anxieties around their singing voice: "Whenever we'd have singing class in school, I'd just burst into tears. I felt extreme anxiety because I really believed I couldn't sing. I hadn't found my voice at all. That all came a lot later," they explains. "I wanted to be the guy behind the computer so I didn't really have to show myself." It took discovering artists like Bon Iver, Mura Masa and Flume for the teenager to realise that they could be in charge of all elements of production, as well as write and sample their own voice.

An integral part of the multi-hyphenate's story is his South-Asian identity. While being proud of their background, they are also candid about the challenges they faced culturally. They speak about the pressure that was put on them to excel academically and how they were the only Indian person at his school. "Societally, South Asian people aren't accepted in the UK for so many reasons, especially as creatives, and then I realised I was queer," they exclaim. They're able to see the positives too, though: "The trauma of never being good enough is probably why we're going to be successful. I wouldn't want it another way, even with my music, I'm gonna push hard to prove people wrong, and push doubly hard because I'm a brown person too."

But Laurél could find the right route into music until they came into himself fully. Last year, they went through an intense personal transformation, which not only saw them reassess everything they had thought about themself for 20 years, but their approach to music too. By that point, they had spent three years working on their debut EP, and it was finally ready to drop in early 2021 before they realised that the entire project needed to be scrapped. "The person I had become was worlds apart," they explain.

During lockdown, Laurél started watching Euphoria and was inspired by Hunter Schafer, who is a trans woman, and her character, Jules Vaughn. They realised that despite identifying as a straight, cis-gendered male their whole life, he was, in fact, queer. "It was so powerful to me, and look, I had a girlfriend at the time," they say. "I got into such a depressed state after watching Euphoria that my mum told me that she would come home and pray I was still here. My voice literally changed, the way I looked changed, the way I acted around people changed, and by default the things I was singing about changed. Basically, I broke the conditions of sexuality, because I was discerning who I truly was for the first time, and in Hunter Schafer, I saw someone who was being fully authentic.' In their new EP, Manic Pixie Dream Boy, they fittingly dedicate a track to the actor to honour the influence she had on them.

But ultimately, the only thing on Laurél's mind when making the updated EP was identity. "It's one hundred per cent a coming out album," they acknowledge. Setting the tone for the record is 'INTRO [mum, I think I'm free], and over the course of the ensuing psychedelic-tinged, electro-pop grooves, Laurél tracks their shapeshifting individualism as they sonically and emotionally comes into their own. Using a rockier sound, which is worlds away from the Radiohead-esque ballads on their initial EP, the single, 'Manic Pixie Dream Boy' explores Laurél being ghosted by a guy on a Hinge, with tongue-in-cheek sense of humour and panache. 'Johnny,' which is their most raw and vulnerable song to date, sees them speak about being bullied in school, societal conditioning, and navigating a capitalist-fuelled world. It is, in essence, an intimate exploration of gender and sexuality "in the most euphoric and beautiful way," Laurél comments, and their purpose throughout is clear: "I have broken the norms of this binary, heteronormative structure that I and many others had been navigating without knowing it was killing us," he asserts.

The future is certainly promising. Laurél, who recently opened for Jeshi and already has a Gglum collaboration under their belt, tells me that they are looking forward to playing more gigs, and is already thinking about the next record. But the end goal is always in sight. "The premise behind it all is to speak about subjects that hit people. It feels like what I'm here to do," they surmise. "I would love to be the biggest I can possibly be, because I owe it to myself, but my focus is always to create art that heals me and heals others."

– Nessa Humayun