A week before the release of his new EP, Manchester-based musician Lei Hope shared the dictionary entry of ‘inertia’ in a social media post: “a tendency to do nothing or to remain unchanged” or, in physics, the property of matter that causes it to rest or move in a straight line, unless an external force changes its state. Supposing you’ve never heard of the artist, what type of music would you expect based on this post alone?
I would have said abrasive noise rock – and couldn’t have been more wrong. Hope is an up-and-coming singer-songwriter-guitarist whose music resists straightforward labels, but atmospheric, guitar-driven alt-R&B would be a fair summary. No abrasion, no noise. The reason why his third EP, the follow-up to last year’s Matrices, bears the title INERTIA is that its four tracks deal with the difficulty of changing course without being given a push. The cause of his stasis is grief and loss, specifically a long estrangement from a brother and the passing of a friend. While writing these songs, he realised that the much-needed jolt could in fact only come from within through music.
“I like authenticity, being real and upfront”, Hope once said, and this attitude has always come through in his work. On Autonomous Affection, his debut EP, he touched on depression, heartbreak, and nicotine addiction, all within the same song, “17”, which clocks in at just over one minute. On the Prince-y “Boyfriend”, off Matrices, he went explicit (“I’m hopelessly fucked up and confused”) and on last year’s soulful single “Cranium” he sang about his desire to succeed in love (“But in my cranium / You got me hoping, babe / That I can see ya / Feel your legs open”).
The songs on INERTIA are just as direct and relatable, but much more personal and lyrically introspective. Also, the heavy subject matter that unifies them leaves no room for musings on romance or love, normally one of his main preoccupations. For Hope, however, reflecting on an alienated connection with a sibling and the suicide of a childhood friend doesn’t yield bleak songs or result in self-pitying sentimentality.
“My musical calculator and compass” is how Hope has described the guitar, and sure enough, his delicate, melodic playing is his finest quality. On opener “LITTLE SIGN” the lines ooze like syrup before the bluesy solo near the end lends the sound the emotional depth to match the lyrics (“I’m waiting / Seven years on, still vacant / 23, feeling jaded / Living alone, frustrated”). “WAYO” sees him confront his brother, telling him to “pick up the phone and let me in” and, despite the groovy bass, his guitar steals the show again, this time thanks to a Spanish inflection. The triptych is complete with “WRITE BACK” – “Don’t be a stranger to your family or your kind” – which treats the listener to some more gorgeous licks before the hypnotic closer HYPERINDEPENDENCY about a friend’s death has his guitars both weep and jangle.
INERTIA may not have the variety of Matrices – to be fair, it contains three fewer songs – but it is more cohesive and focused, with no detours. Also, the record has more to offer than Hope’s guitar playing. The production is crisp, and the sound feels timeless, reminding you of both contemporary influences (e.g. Daniel Caesar, Charlotte Day Lewis) and Prince. The background vocals alternate between haunting (“WAYO”) and dreamy (“HYPERINDEPENDENCY”) and the falsetto on “WRITE BACK” proves that his guitar chops are far from Hope’s only skill.
So what’s the catch?
Some listeners out there might find the contrast between the sombre lyrical themes and the overall upbeat sound a touch jarring rather than refreshing. “Songs about estrangement and grief are supposed to be sad”, they could argue. I’m still on the fence but it may only take a few more listens for INERTIA to give me the nudge I need to land firmly on the ‘refreshing’ side.
Lei Hope: Inertia – Out 23 July 2025 (Heist or Hit)
