There are songs that don’t just play in the background; they stop you in your tracks, open a door inside you, and invite you to sit with your truths. Raphael Jae’s “Toxins” is one of those rare pieces. Born and raised in Albany, New York, Jae is a storyteller whose voice carries the weight of lived experience and the grace of someone who knows pain can be a sculptor. With “Toxins,” his first fully-produced release he steps into the spotlight with a sound that rests somewhere between the intimacy of Noah Kahan and the emotional resonance of Ed Sheeran, but entirely in his.
Released in June, this is a song written for casual listening. It’s grief, distilled. Jae calls it “grief for a future never lived, and a part of myself that died to a relationship,” and every lyric reflects that brutal honesty. The opening lines, “I thought we were forever. The way you looked at me. Like I was the savior. A prince you’d never need” instantly pull you into the intimate, aching frame of the story.
Jae’s vocal delivery is arresting in its sincerity. There’s a rawness in the way he sings that makes you feel as if you’re overhearing a private confession, yet it’s delivered with a clarity and control that turns pain into poetry. He doesn’t push for theatrical dramatics. He lets each word breathe, letting silence, pauses, and soft intonation carry as much weight as the high points. When he reaches the chorus, “So lay me down on the wire. And walk across my back. Let the razors pierce my skin,” I could hear the exhaustion and surrender, but also a strange kind of strength.
Musically, “Toxins” blooms like a slow sunrise. It begins with the simplicity of soft guitar — tender, almost fragile before building into a grand arrangement where classical and folk touches intertwine with indie-pop layers. Strings weave through the mix like ghostly echoes of the battlefield he’s singing about, while percussive elements rise subtly, never overpowering the storytelling but giving the song an emotional spine. The production is clean yet atmospheric, every element intentional; nothing is there just to fill space.
The bridge is one of the song’s most stunning moments, where the instrumentation swells and his voice takes on a bittersweet resolve: “With my dying breath. I finally look beyond the battlefield. I’ve grown, but with no time left. To learn how a different life could feel.” It’s a release and a reckoning all at once, a moment where you feel him letting go of the war inside.
What’s remarkable about “Toxins” is how it transforms the deeply personal into something universal. Raphael Jae wrote this song for himself to heal, but in doing so, he’s given the rest of us a place to set down our own burdens. It’s proof that music can be a mirror and a lifeline. Raphael Jae is a voice worth remembering, not because he’s trying to be the loudest, but because he’s brave enough to be honest. With “Toxins,” he’s opened a wound and shown us the beauty in its scar.
Listen to “Toxins” on Spotify
Follow Raphael Jae here for more information
