Ray Curenton’s Ripples of the Past is one of those rare albums that sneaks up on you—not with bombast or flashy production, but with a quiet kind of gravity. It’s an intimate project that feels less like an album you press play on and more like a conversation you fall into with an old friend who’s suddenly willing to tell you the real story. Out September 12, this is Curenton’s first full-length foray into indie folk, and it already feels like a defining moment in his career.

For listeners familiar with his pop, R&B, and gospel roots, the pivot here is striking but not jarring. He hasn’t abandoned his voice; he’s peeled it back to something rawer, softer, more exposed. Nashville producer Brandon Adams keeps the arrangements minimalist—acoustic guitars, gentle percussion, subtle layers of harmonies—leaving space for the lyrics to breathe. And that’s crucial, because the heart of Ripples of the Past is storytelling.

The record is structured in three acts—Age of Minority, Age of Maturity, Age of Majority—and that narrative arc really sets it apart. It’s like Curenton is walking us through a memoir in song, tracing the echoes of childhood memories into adult struggles and joys. You can hear the therapy he talks about in the liner notes—songs that sound like breakthroughs, or like pages from a journal he’s decided to share with us.

Take “Ground Zero,” one of the early singles. It’s spare but devastating, a meditation on the moment when you realize everything you thought was stable isn’t. His voice, layered with those signature harmonies, sounds both fragile and unshakable, like someone standing in the rubble but refusing to turn away. “Once Familiar Friend” leans more into the folk side, with poetic restraint that captures the heartbreak of drifting apart from someone you thought you’d never lose. Then there’s “NFC,” which manages to be tender and biting at once, a memory unpacked with the kind of specificity that makes it universal.

But it’s not all heavy. Tracks like “Happiness” and “Is That Alright?” offer moments of levity—still contemplative, but with a warmth that keeps the album from sinking too deep into its own weight. By the time you reach the closer, “For One, For All,” it feels less like the end of an album and more like the resolution of a narrative arc: the sound of someone who’s walked through the shadows of memory and come out holding something fragile but real.

What’s impressive is how Ripples of the Past manages to be both deeply personal and completely accessible. Curenton is clearly working through his own history here, but he leaves enough open space in the lyrics for listeners to project their own stories. That balance—between specificity and universality, between folk earthiness and soulful lift—is what makes the record stick.

This isn’t background music. It’s music for deep listening—late at night, headphones on, when you’re ready to sit with your own memories and maybe make some sense of them. Fans of Sufjan Stevens, Iron & Wine, or Moses Sumney will find familiar textures here, but Curenton’s voice—both literal and artistic—is distinctly his own.

Ripples of the Past isn’t flashy, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s tender, thoughtful, and quietly powerful—the kind of album that lingers long after the last note fades, like the echo of a memory you’re not quite ready to let go.

“Ripples of the Past” is available now on all major streaming platforms

Listen to Ray Curenton and other similar artists on our Spotify Playlist ‘New Music Spotlight - Folk & Country’

“Ripples of the Past” - Ray Curenton

'EURO-COUNTRY’ - CMAT