[REVIEW] Blood Orange Weaves Memories, Loss, And Homecoming Into His Striking Return 'Essex Honey'

Essex Honey marks Blood Orange’s return after six years, and it feels like Dev Hynes has turned memory and grief into something tangible.

Across 14 tracks, he maps out his Essex upbringing while confronting loss, creating an album that functions as both a homecoming and a diary. The record stretches over about 45 minutes, moving between hazy electronics, R&B grooves, jazz textures and orchestral flourishes without ever losing its intimacy.

The opener “Look at You” sets the mood straight away. Sparse synths and fragile vocals lead into passages that shift tempo and atmosphere mid-track, like Hynes is still trying to catch his footing. “The Field” is more immediate, tying his soft voice to a rotating cast of collaborators: Tariq Al-Sabir, Daniel Caesar and Caroline Polachek layer harmonies without overcrowding the song. It’s classic Blood Orange, balancing melancholy with warmth.

On “Thinking Clean,” you hear him lean deeper into experimentation. A piano-led section builds into a sudden jazz-driven rhythm before strings swallow the space. It recalls Arthur Russell in its mix of fragility and boldness. Other tracks leave breadcrumbs for careful listeners, a familiar voice tucked into the background of “I Listened (Every Night),” or an uncredited Mustafa vocal that cuts sharply through the haze of “Vivid Light.” These hidden features don’t distract from Hynes, they underline his instinct for texture.

The guest list is long, from Lorde and Polachek to Tirzah and Ian Isiah, even stretching to a first-ever vocal turn from Zadie Smith. It’s impressive, but at points the cameos risk crowding the space. “Mind Loaded,” for instance, tries to balance Mustafa’s poetry, Polachek’s operatic runs and Lorde’s reference to Elliott Smith, but it feels more fragmented than complete. When Hynes pulls back, as on “The Last of England” or the closing “I Can Go," the record feels most affecting. His voice, coupled with snippets of everyday Essex life, carries more weight than any stacked guest spot.

Lyrically, Essex Honey sits between memory and present grief. He recalls childhood streets, the push and pull of British identity, and the way family and place still shape him. The references to Ilford and Essex suburbs aren’t nostalgic for the sake of it; they ground the record in reality. Strings, saxophone, and fractured percussion amplify the sense of an artist working through absence without rushing toward resolution.

What makes the album strong is its refusal to over-explain. Grief is messy, sometimes unresolved, but never aimless. It’s Hynes showing patience with himself, and that gives the record its depth. Essex Honey doesn’t feel like an attempt at relief; it feels like documentation, a stage in a process.

It isn’t flawless. Some collaborations blur his own voice, and the middle stretch can feel weighed down by ideas competing for space. But when the songs lock in, you’re reminded why Blood Orange has held such influence for over a decade. This is his most personal work since Freetown Sound, and it rewards time and attention.

Rating: 4/5