Plus-sized, queer, self-produced, indie-pop singer-songwriter Brye recently dropped her debut album, RECOVER, an album brimming with candid assessments about our culture, insecurities, and hopeful declarations of resistance to societal pressures.
Growing up in a musical family, at age seven, Brye was performing in musical theatre, followed by writing her own music when she was 12. Exploding on the scene in 2020 with the release of “LEMONS,” which amassed more than 43 million streams on Spotify, Brye followed with a remix of “LEMONS” with Cavetown.
Distinguished by her insightful wisdom, a wisdom that belies her age, Brye’s honest lyricism cuts through the artificiality of the accepted status quo and dives into the nitty gritty of misogyny, body dysmorphia, eating disorders, anxiety, queer love, and self-love.
Encompassing nine tracks, the album begins with the title track, a song about cultural body standards, i.e., emaciation, masquerading as healthiness. Opening on low-slung, sparkling pop tones riding a light, contagious rhythm, Brye narrates a delightful tale of self-acceptance.
“But I’d rather be bigger / I’d rather quote ‘fail’ / Than lose another second / Of my life to the scale.”
Entry points include the personal favorite “NOTHING!” which rolls out on a percolating, staccato-like rhythm topped by Brye’s evocative, almost carefree vocals, imbuing the lyrics with charming tolerance for online body-shamers, whom she refuses to engage.
“And I’m planning my reply / Wasting my energy / On some unimportant guy / Only trying to bait me / And the more time that I spend on him / The less I spend on me.”
“Jenna,” featuring Addison Grace, travels on a tip-tapping rhythm highlighted by a deep, throbbing bassline as Brye’s vocals range from soft and breathy to velvety melodicism, revealing profound lyrics about the shame religion foists on queer love.
“Direct Message” ties the album off with a syncopated rhythm and dark, gleaming colors of luscious indie-pop. Inspired by a message from a fan seeking to separate from feelings of body dysmorphia, the song’s reply is both haunting and moving.
“And I don’t know what to tell her / I’m not an expert / I don’t have a cookie cutter answer.”
With RECOVER, Brye constructs a bewitching sonic tapestry, one where authenticity and emotional catharsis merge into self-worth.