London Grammar - If You Wait (2013)

Why Listen?

If You Wait is the sonic equivalent of watching raindrops race down a foggy windowpane while the world outside fades into grayscale. It’s an album that doesn’t just ask you to feel—it insists on it.

From the very first note, it wraps you in a cocoon of introspection, with Hannah Reid’s otherworldly vocals acting as both your guide and your undoing. Her voice is a force of nature, equal parts delicate and devastating, capable of soaring to celestial heights or whispering truths that hit like a gut punch. If heartbreak had a soundtrack, this would be it.

What makes If You Wait so unforgettable is its ability to say so much with so little. The arrangements are sparse but purposeful, like a minimalist painting where every brushstroke counts. Guitars shimmer like distant stars, pianos echo as if played in an empty cathedral, and the percussion is so subtle it feels more like a heartbeat than a drumbeat.

The production is pristine, with every sound meticulously placed to create an atmosphere that’s both intimate and cinematic. It’s the kind of album that makes you want to close your eyes, lean back, and let the music wash over you like waves on a quiet shore.

Tracks like “Strong” and “Wasting My Young Years” are emotional heavyweights, weaving together themes of longing, regret, and resilience with poetic precision. Reid’s voice carries an almost supernatural weight, as though she’s singing not just for herself but for every broken heart in the room.

But don’t mistake this album for background music—it demands your full attention. The kind of record you put on when you’re staring at the ceiling at 2 AM, wondering where it all went wrong.

Whether you’re nursing a broken heart or simply in need of something achingly beautiful to soundtrack your solitude, this record delivers in spades. So light a candle, pour yourself something strong (or soothing), and let London Grammar remind you why sadness can be so stunningly exquisite.

Curator's Note:

When I first heard Gehlee sing I thought of Hannah Reid from London Grammar. They both have this beautiful lower register. I can picture Gehlee covering "Stay Awake" with a video of her leaning against a window singing at the moon with dark shadows, juxtaposed by a black void where she's running from the camera. Running from herself?