With chart-climbing singles like “I Think They Call This Love” and a wave of viral TikTok performances filmed beside his kitchen sink, Reay has become a rising voice in the new wave of heartfelt pop music — unafraid to wear vulnerability like a badge of honor.

But, before he found his stride, Reay almost walked away from music entirely.

“I think there was this repetition in life that really got me a bit sick of TikTok,” Reay said, reflecting on a time when he felt creatively stifled, caught in the loop of posting covers and chasing views. “I hadn’t even released any original music yet. It was just me, my bedroom, and the same four walls. I knew I had to get out.”

That instinct — to escape, breathe, explore — became the catalyst for a life-altering journey. Reay spent 18 months away from home, backpacking across Southeast Asia with little more than a guitar and a dream. His first stop? Bali — a destination most travelers save for last. For Reay, it was the beginning of everything.

“There was something about the not knowing. Not knowing what’s next. That’s what I was chasing,” he said. “We didn’t have much money, but the excitement of the unknown was enough. And along the way, I started meeting people. People who welcomed us shared their culture, their stories. That’s when the spark came back.”

One of those moments came unexpectedly in Indonesia, where a local friend, who played bass in a band, spotted Reay’s guitar and invited him to perform on stage. That spontaneous set would reignite a passion he thought was lost.

“I realized I still loved it. Performing. Connecting. I still had something to say,” Reay said.

That fire carried Reay back to the U.K. with a renewed sense of purpose. Instead of chasing numbers, he started creating with intent. His signature “kitchen sink sessions”, where he belts out original songs with raw, unfiltered emotion, became a viral staple. But beyond the views, it was the authenticity that resonated;  songs drawn straight from the heart.

“I think for me, these songs were written with my first love,” he said. “She’s actually sitting right there, so I don’t have to envision anything. It’s all very real.”

When asked how he channels such emotion in the studio, Reay quickly notes the difference between performance and production.

“In the studio, there’s no crowd. So I hold a handheld mic and imagine I’m on stage. That’s when I give the most. That’s when it feels real.”

And real is exactly what Reay delivers. Whether he’s singing about the aching pull of love or the thrill of wandering far from home, his music remains rooted in lived experience — raw, honest, and wholly his own.

As his audience continues to grow, Reay isn’t chasing fame, he’s chasing a connection. The kind you find in a dive bar in Bali, a late-night kitchen session, or the quiet courage it takes to keep going when the spark has dimmed.

“I just want people to feel something,” he said. “If I can do that, then I’m doing what I’m meant to do.”