“I am not who I was yesterday.” It’s more than a lyric—it’s a battle cry. A mantra. And by the time Greentea Peng chants it into the sky on I AM (Reborn), the penultimate track on her hypnotic new album Tell Dem It’s Sunny, you believe her. You feel it. The South London shape-shifter, real name Aria Wells, isn’t just shedding old skin—she’s making peace with the bruises underneath.
Peng’s 2021 debut, Man Made, introduced her as a mystic soul surgeon, blending psychedelic funk, dubby trip-hop, and Erykah Badu-esque R&B into a healing brew. She described it as “physical… metaphysical… alchemical.” It was music to drink like tea: steeped, soothing, slightly spiked.
But on Tell Dem It’s Sunny, feels like she opens a window, and the sharp sting of London air comes in. The song still captures the spiritual feeling, yet it’s sharp now, no sugar-coating.
Take “One Foot.” It opens with a trippy haze but quickly clears for a sobering confession: “I’m fucking exhausted. Messed up, distorted.” That’s the tone shift—Peng’s not floating above life’s chaos anymore; she’s walking through it. Barefoot.
Across the album, her signature brew of soul, dub, and hip-hop gets dirtier, heavier, and more grounded. “TARDIS (Hardest)” is a standout—gritty and bass-heavy. It documents a literal trek “from West Ham to Norwood,” drawing a line between her spiritual musings and the grind of everyday life.
The sonic palette is wild but intentional. “My Neck,” a collaboration with lo-fi wizard Wu-Lu, creeps like a fog, all Ghost Town dub echoes and slow-burning dread. From there, she slides into “Create or Destroy 432,” where ’90s squat-punk guitars punch through like flashbacks from a rave gone rogue. Even “Green,” with its Sour Times throb, feels like it’s dancing on the edge of something dangerous.
Greentea Peng’s Voice Across the Album
Through it all, Peng’s voice remains a force of nature—smoky, raw, and just a bit sideways. On “Stones Throw,” her take on the classic breakup ballad, she’s in the room with you, close enough to whisper, but always with one foot out the door.
And while there are sunny moments—see the woozy warmth of “Glory”—they’re laced with knowing. “Sunny” isn’t a vibe here. It’s an intention. A fight. A spell cast in the face of smog.
The magic of Tell Dem It’s Sunny isn’t just in its sound. It’s in how it dares to be both mystical and mundane. Wells is still that cosmic soul searcher—but now she’s more interested in asking tough questions than offering simple cures. “Is it too late for me?” she wonders on “One Foot,” her voice trailing off like smoke from the end of a joint.
Spoiler: it’s not.
This album isn’t just a sequel to Man Made—it’s a level-up. Grittier, leaner, and more emotionally direct, it trades ethereal vibes for hard-won truths. Greentea Peng isn’t just telling us it’s sunny—she’s standing in the rain, daring the sky to clear.
And honestly? It just might.
