Kelela - Raven (2LP)

Kelela’s second studio album, Raven, lands like a late night you never want to end. Released on February 10, 2023 via Warp Records, it answers the long tail of Take Me Apart with a deeper dive into club culture’s shadows and soft lights. The record starts with “Washed Away,” a patient opener that lets her voice hover over a mist of synths, the kind of ambient swell that clears the floor before the real movement begins. Then the drums arrive. “Happy Ending,” produced with LSDXOXO, snaps the lid open with jittery breaks and pressure-point bass, a rush that feels both throwback and futuristic. It’s not nostalgia bait, though. Kelela treats jungle and garage as living languages, not museum pieces, and she sounds right at home speaking them.

A lot of that comfort comes from the crew behind the boards. Raven was shaped with Yo van Lenz and Florian T. M. Zeisig, the Berlin-based duo known as OCA, whose textural sense gives the album its vaporous glue. You hear it in the negative space, the way sub-bass hangs under her vocal and the highs never glare. Bambii shows up as well, bringing a kinetic snap to “On the Run,” which slinks with a two-step swing that rewards close listening. These are producers who understand sound systems, and Kelela rides their beds with a swimmer’s control, gliding and kicking when the current shifts.

“Contact” might be the clearest case for her club instincts. It’s a proper night-drive cut, with synths panning like passing headlights and a hook built for the moment when friends pull you back toward the floor. The title track is the mirror image, a low-lit confessional that blooms slowly, almost devotional in its calm. Sequencing matters here. Raven plays like a set, peaks and breathers, a thread that holds across 60 minutes without a single cheap build.

The themes are more than mood. After a long public pause, Kelela came back talking about centering Black, queer experiences on the dancefloor and making space for intimacy inside the rave. You can feel that care in her writing. She offers desire without posturing, protection without retreat. The production echoes that stance. The percussion hits with club weight, but the edges are sanded just enough to let her voice carry. She’s not fighting the beat. She’s curating a room.

Critics met the record where it lives. Outlets like Pitchfork, The Guardian, and Rolling Stone singled out the album’s cohesion and emotional clarity, praising how it pushes club forms without losing the pulse. Fans locked onto the singles for good reason. “Washed Away” became a quiet cult favorite, while “Happy Ending” and “Contact” did what they were built to do, test the limits of a sound system and still feel tender in headphones. It’s the rare album that works at 3 a.m. and 3 p.m., not by compromise, but by clarity of intent.

If you care about the tactile side of listening, the Raven vinyl belongs in the stack. This is sub-bass music with air around it, and the low end breathes on a turntable in a way streaming rarely captures. If you’ve ever fussed with speaker placement for a UK garage 12-inch, you’ll know the smile that creeps in when the kick and bass finally sit together. Kelela vinyl tends to disappear from bins, so keep an eye out if you browse weekends, and don’t hesitate if you spot Raven vinyl near the Warp section. If you prefer to buy Kelela records online, this is one you can order with confidence, and it sits nicely next to other Kelela albums on vinyl for a front-to-back evening.

What lingers after a few spins is the sense of hospitality. Raven invites you in and then keeps the room lit just right, aware of history, generous with space. It’s a modern club record that remembers the people inside the club. Whether you’re stopping by a favorite Melbourne record store after work or comparing pressings the way only vinyl lifers do, this album rewards the ritual. Turn it up, let the bass wrap the corners, and let Kelela do what she does best: make the floor feel like a place to be known.