Rachel Chinouriri – ‘I Think I Spoke Too Soon’ review: a glittering comedown on the dancefloor

2026 has unleashed a wave of popstars working it out on the dancefloor. Arlo Parks, Jorja Smith – hell, even Madonna’s gone back to the club for her new record. Now, Rachel Chinouriri’s getting in on the action with her second album ‘I Think I Spoke Too Soon’.

• READ MORE: On The Cover: Rachel Chinouriri has finally come home

If tragedy struck the Croydon singer-songwriter out of the blue on her debut album, 2024’s ‘What A Devastating Turn Of Events’, then ‘I Think I Spoke Too Soon’ repeatedly pits Chinouriri’s external “party girl” against her growing discontent with her lifestyle. On opener ‘One Song Away From Crying’, she sighs: “I’ve never looked better and I’ve never felt worse”. The slick disco beat is muffled, as though Chinouriri’s revelation is taking place inside the club bathroom – but combined with her genteel vocals, it makes for a timid start.

Luckily, Chinouriri’s escapist tendencies provide a swift injection of energy with ‘Pretty Girls’. Its dreamy, reverb-drenched verses make its chanted chorus shine like a glitterball: “I wanna spend the night with pretty girls / Doing whatever we like!”. Meanwhile, ‘AAAHHH!!!’ is a jubilant, lovesick ode, placing you straight on Brighton Beach with its Kooks-esque coos and Chinouriri’s audacious vocals. It’s a little less successful on ‘Make Believe’, where her noxious blend of witty melancholy (“Am I banging a loser? / Am I an easy manoeuvre?”) is buried by whispery delivery.

Chinouriri’s facade reaches breaking point on ‘Broken Chair’, whose trumpeting synthline, cowbell-inflected drums and infectious chorus is one of the best tracks on the record. She scoffs at a lonely, broken chair on the street, but slowly realises she’s the pot calling the kettle black: “She’s throwing up into a gutter / It’s getting really hard to love her”. Songs like ‘Broken Chair’ are where Chinouriri’s songwriting talents shine; she’s equal parts defensive, self-deprecating and vulnerable, and yet all she makes you want to do is dance.

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She pulls off this tonal balancing act again on ‘Parasite’, which, even for Chinouriri, is notably dark. A toxic ex lures her back into his flat after an argument, but her voice reverberates above pounding disco-punk drums as she exclaims: “What am I doing? / It’s the end of the night / And I don’t think I have it in me to fuck and apologise”. As Chinouriri scrambles to appease her lover by replenishing their wine, it hammers home her fragile relationship between alcohol, her social life and herself.

As the album closes on ‘The Good Fight’ and ‘Crash This Car’, Chinouriri strays further away from the dancefloor, returning back to her rock roots. The former sets Chinouriri, drinking, with “my friends I fucking hate”. But despite her potent hangxiety, she admits: “I don’t regret the feeling if the lonely fades away”. And yet, the record appears to end on a more optimistic note on ‘Crash This Car’, where Chinouriri asks whether she’ll ruin her life in her quest to discover herself, concluding: “We knew exactly what this was from the start”. It’s a fitting and cathartic end after a whole record of tightrope internal tension and dance beats, understanding that such painful moments are necessary for us to grow and change.

Details

• Record label: Atlas Artists / Parlophone Records
• Release date: October 16, 2026