“June in February,” the new album by Charles Edison, is a plaintive album that concludes a deeply personal trilogy that began in 2017. Over eight tightly woven tracks that run a total of 22 minutes, the London-based rapper and producer delivers a masterclass in economy and emotional clarity. It’s an album that doesn’t remain in the past but rather pays respect to it, takes lessons from it, and moves forward with purpose.
In that spirit, Edison’s production overflows with detail, with elements suddenly emerging from the background until they become the focal point, sparked both by the meditative soul of Common’s Be and by the layered, lived-in work of Marco Polo. His everyman vocal delivery, swathed with a heavy West London patois, is reminiscent of Mike Skinner and, more recently, Akala, grounding the project in realism and a very human sense of intimacy without ever being preachy.
The album is the end of an unofficial trilogy that includes “Waking Up” (2017), which centered on addiction and remorse, and “Everything Is Fine” (2018), which explored survivor’s guilt and the ripple effects of recovery. In “June in February,” Edison moves to the next page. He has finished with self-flagellation and regret. This is a rejoicing about healing and rest after the storm.
There are two tracks that rise as anchors of emotion. “Florence,” Edison’s favorite, is in memory of his grandmother. Written over a decade ago and released with great timing, the track captures grief and joy with moving elegance. On the flip side is “No Love Lost,” which is all spurned bravado and stubborn independence, where Edison brazenly claims that his music is for himself, not for the applause, after all.
Charles Edison delivers a story of growth, pain, and perseverance in “June in February.” It’s a slender yet replete album; deeply personal, yet universal. It’s an appropriate last chapter, but it’s also a hopeful new start.