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.

She pulls off this tonal balancing act again on ‘Parasite’, which, even for Chinouriri, is notably dark.