Review

By Ben Avery | 02/07/2026

If there’s one thing kwn has mastered, it’s making emotional chaos sound impossibly cool. Since emerging from East London with the irresistibly confident swagger of breakthrough single Worst Behaviour, she's cultivated an R&B world built on flirtation, lust and razor-sharp self-assurance. But on and all pride aside, the follow-up to last year's with all due respect, that confidence begins to crack, and what spills through is her most compelling work yet. Written entirely by kwn, the 11-track project finds the 26-year-old trading surface-level seduction for something far more revealing. These songs still pulse with late-night desire and bedroom-ready production, but beneath the slick grooves lies an artist wrestling with heartbreak, insecurity and the uncomfortable realisation that even the biggest players eventually get played. Opener all fours, featuring Destin Conrad, wastes little time establishing that tension. Over warped basslines and punchy percussion, kwn projects her trademark bravado, demanding obsession rather than casual attention. Yet the confidence feels performative, almost fragile, exposing someone desperate for certainty in a relationship built on anything but. Conrad's guest verse only deepens that contradiction, with both artists circling commitment while quietly admitting neither can walk away. Throughout the record, kwn's production feels richer and more expansive than ever. touch myself channels classic slow-jam intimacy with spacious instrumentation that allows every vocal run to breathe, while til u cry layers harmonies into an intoxicating haze without sacrificing emotional clarity. It's polished contemporary R&B that never loses its intimacy. The album reaches its emotional peak in its final stretch. idea of love strips away the swagger almost entirely, asking whether we're ever truly in love with another person or simply the version we've invented for ourselves. It's a deceptively simple question that lands with surprising weight, leading seamlessly into the cathartic better on my own, where distorted guitars and crashing live drums mirror the emotional exhaustion of finally admitting a relationship has run its course. Closing track heaven's in your hands delivers the album's most devastating moment. Addressed to her late grandfather, it's a raw meditation on grief that abandons performance altogether. The fearless confidence that once defined kwn gives way to something quieter, more vulnerable and infinitely more affecting. Rather than abandoning the bold persona that first made her stand out, and all pride aside reframes it. Beneath the swagger has always been someone capable of extraordinary emotional honesty; she's simply ready to let us hear it now. The result is a sophisticated, beautifully conflicted R&B record that proves kwn isn't just one of Britain's most exciting new voices, she's one of its most emotionally resonant.