Head in the clouds: 10 albums improved by the sound of rainfall

‘When I Paint My Masterpiece’ – Ada Lea

The very minute I reviewed this album, it became clear that it would be one of my records of the year. What’s funny, perhaps, is that my very first listen of it took place in one of the brutally hot summer nights we had this year. Sweltering in the heat, this record enveloped me with a sense of cool calm that acted as a much-needed tonic. 

Lea’s guitar playing is genuinely akin to light rain falling upon your windowsill and creates one of the most calming listening experiences in contemporary music. It’s that balance between the overhanging darkness of continuous rain, punctuated by brief glimpses of light poking through the clouds that leave you quietly optimistic, amidst existential introspection.

‘Music For Nine Postcards’ – Hiroshi Yoshimura

The minimalism of Hiroshi Yoshimura’s 1982 work, Music for Nine Postcards, doesn’t just give space to the sub-soundtrack of rain; it allows for an elemental symphonic interplay to take place. That might sound high-falutin on, e.g. a sober, rain-free Tuesday morning, but it was the very point of Yoshimura’s creation.

In the liner notes for the homemade record, the Japanese composer comments that the music is meant to mimic “the movements of clouds, the shade of a tree in summertime, the sound of rain, the snow in a town.”

With delicate minimalism, he allows space for these elements to enter his work. So, the songs not only match rainfall’s moodiness, but the pitta-patta against the window adds vacant percussion to the mix.

‘LA Woman’ – The Doors

An ambient drizzle is one thing; a downfall in a desert is quite another. With ‘Riders on the Storm’, The Doors beautifully conjured the latter in every which way, ingeniously adding rain to the mix of the track in a manner that was ahead of its time.

But it’s not just this mood-lighting on the masterful closing song that pairs LA Woman and precipitation together perfectly, the whole album is embellished by rain.

Somehow, Jim Morrison’s poetry feels rain-slicked across the record. He angles towards a reckoning in Hollywood, and since humans started writing, such events invariably come with clouds swirling overhead. The 1971 album remains a masterpiece that dramatically captures this biblical sentiment like few other records in history.

‘All Things Must Pass’ – George Harrison

While rainfall will largely force you inside, taking quiet solace and shelter from the weather, some albums feel so inherently spiritual that they will force you to step outside and embrace the wet. With the air of kumbaya in George Harrison’s voice, and the subtle vibrations of his acoustic guitar ringing throughout, All Things Must Pass is that record.

Embracing the rainfall might just be one step towards fully accepting spiritually, and the composition of the album feels like a conduit to that. Whether it’s the harmonic outcry of ‘My Sweet Lord’ or the weeping guitar lines of ‘Isn’t It A Pity’, the songs shower you with transcendence. The rain, like all things, might just pass, but I’d be willing to bet that if you paired this record with a winter shower, you wouldn’t be so desperate for it.

‘Humbug’ – Arctic Monkeys

Despite the fact that this album was recorded in the dry expanse of the Joshua Tree desert, it has the moody profile of a dreary Sheffield day. Alex Turner’s riffs, which on tracks like ‘Crying Lightning’ and ‘Potion Approaching’ harmonise with his vocal melodies, are menacing and at times eerie, which may have been inspired by the haunting desert air, but feel most at home on the cold concrete of modern Britain. 

Unlike previous choices on the list, this album doesn’t make the cut as a means of rainy liberation. No, this album is a frank and honest soundtrack to the grey landscape in which you feel surrounded, and gives you a chance to fully embrace the moodier thoughts this onslaught of weather might bring. Moreover, and perhaps most importantly, Alex Turner’s twisting Nick Cave-inspired tales on this record showcase characters whose stories are best told in a drearier world.

‘Fleet Foxes’ – Fleet Foxes

“Around 45% of the US is wetter than Seattle, counting both rain and melted snow,” the climate scientist Brian Brettschneider found from a recent precipitation mapping study. “When I published the map on Twitter, a lot of people in Seattle were very upset about it. They take a lot of pride in it being rainy.”

It takes a unique city to get mad over a study of raininess, but the constant drizzle in the home of Jimi Hendrix and Nirvana is such a fixture of their cultural output that it’s easy to see why. 

The city has always punched above its weight when it comes to culture, and much of it has had a certain raincoated cosiness to it. Fleet Foxes’ debut album perhaps typified that more than any other record from the damp bohemia. It’s a record that sounds better in Carhartt, and it simultaneously makes you want to hike a mountain, yet also never leave the house.

‘In A Silent Way’ – Miles Davis

When I recently spoke with Hugh Cornwell, he described this as Miles Davis’ “most accessible” work. You don’t expect that from a two-song suite, but it’s the welcoming mood the jazz master materialises with this flowing two-sided magic that allows you to slip in and out of it with the same ease as his blustering horn.

Pop it on with a fresh brew in hand, and you can quite easily stare out of the window, forgetting that there’s even music on for a moment. Then the next moment, you can be so startled by the playing and drawn into the musicality that you forget that there’s anything other than the music. That’s about as great a compliment as you can give any album of this kind.

‘Tell Me How You Really Feel’ – Courtney Barnett

The opening track ‘Hopefulessness’ almost sounds like the heavens slowly opening, and forcing you to recede into the quiet introspection of the indoors. Then, her quiet voice cascades over the rest of the melody like a slow-moving raindrop down the side of the window. It’s a beautifully apt start for an album that follows suit. 

The entire record is somewhere between bleak despondency and a warm hug. The melodies can be sweet one minute and caustic the next, which feel custom-made to suit the fluctuating moods of being stuck in a rainstorm, but by the time the closing track ‘Sunday Roast’ rolls around, the beauty of what you have just experienced is plain to see. Who knows how long this winter could be, but stick the record on and you’ll be accompanied throughout.

‘Dream On’ – Alice Boman

There’s a pillow-propped dreaminess to Alice Boman’s debut album Dream On from 2020. The Swede’s laidback reflection might not have been a commercial triumph, but it did capture its own mood for many. The mellow, respectfully played piano, and softness of her croon is touched with deeply human fatigue. It feels like a sigh by the sink as the rain sleets down outside after a long day at work.

Langston Hughes once wrote, “Let the rain sing you a lullaby”. That feels a little bit like listening to Dream On. Its minimalist flow feels deeply naturalistic, as Boman sings, “I wish we had more time”. If rain calls for mellifluous reflection, then Boman can certainly have you thinking about fleeting moments from lifetimes ago in the best possible way.

‘A Northern Soul’ – The Verve

There is such a dense atmospheric backdrop to this album, almost like a slow-building rain cloud that strengthens with every song. Such is the nature of this shoegaze epic that the very atmosphere they create fluctuates between menacing and beautiful throughout the record, which is framed further by the gloomy addition of heavy rainfall. 

But then, when the record drops down a gear on tracks like ‘Drive You Home’ and ‘Life’s An Ocean’, the murky atmosphere remains but in a more delicate sense. The lashings against the window recede to a pitter and patter, and something hypnotic takes over as Richard Ashcroft’s voice pulls you into the depths of the watery underworld. Plainly speaking, like the British rain that seems to unrelent, this is a record that’s atmosphere totally envelops you.