Hope Tala writes her own story

What began as a private hobby for the 27-year-old South Londoner — scribbling lyrics in notebooks and humming melodies in her childhood bedroom — became her entire world in a few short years. On Feb. 28, Hope Natasha McDonald, better known as Hope Tala, will release her debut record Hope Handwritten, a dedication to loss, change, growth, and ironically, hope.

Talking to Hope feels like talking to an old friend. She’s warm and relaxed, sporting a navy blue fleece sweatshirt and wired headphones that bounce as she shifts in her seat. Currently, she’s spending an extended holiday with her family in London, but she splits her time between there and Los Angeles, the home she adopted once her career started taking shape.

“It feels nice to finally be in the year of release because I’ve been waiting for so long to release this project,” Hope says, reflecting on the years-long journey that is Hope Handwritten. “I’m getting to that place where I’m nervous for people to hear it. It’s always a bit of a rollercoaster [between] feeling really proud of it and really excited and thinking it's rubbish.” Though the first draft of the record was finished in 2021, she’s grown in the last four years, becoming a far more experienced version of herself. As she grew, her art did, too.

Hope recalls her relationship with music as a slow-burn love story of sorts. In secondary school, the head of her school’s music program hosted annual Christmas concerts and summer arts festivals. “Being a part of that bustling music community twice a year always felt so exciting and anticipatory,” she says. In the months between her school concerts, Hope longed for the buzz of creating and performing music — a craving she has yet to shake.

While completing her Music A Level, Hope was tasked with building her first composition. “I think most people did classical compositions, and I’m sure I would’ve gotten a better grade if I had done a classical one,” she laughs. “But, I was intent that I was going to make a quote-unquote ‘pop’ song.” Hope spent the year composing the song on Logic Pro, borrowing lyrics from Langston Hughes’ 1995 poem “Island.”

Through this early project — one that would later inspire many of her releases — Hope discovered her passion for production. The same nylon guitar, violin, and steel pan sounds from her first composition eventually evolved into Hope’s signature dreamy, bossa-nova aura.

In 2019, Hope formally released her first EP, Sensitive Soul, as she approached graduation from the University of Bristol. “That’s where I felt like I hit my stride for the first time sonically,” Hope says. “I was trying to explore the theme of sensitivity and voicing myself as a sensitive and emotional person. I wanted to explore the ways [those traits] showed up in my life and in my relationships.”

Sensitive Soul was influenced by the greats of R&B and neo-soul, whose music raised Hope – people like Ms. Lauryn Hill, India.Arie, D’Angelo, Erika Badu, and, “of course,” Stevie Wonder. As an English literature student, Hope also found inspiration from the works of her favourite writers, Zadie Smith and Sylvia Plath.

A year and a half after finishing university in 2020, Hope released her second EP, Girl Eats Sun. This project marked Hope’s first collection of songs that had been entirely recorded and produced in a studio. “It’s a very different experience writing music with other people in the room because I had always been very shy musically. [Songwriting] was something I fell into doing in a very quiet way.”

What once was an intimate and vulnerable process for Hope became one she relished in sharing with others. She describes the “revolutionary” feeling of watching the sonic and lyrics of Girl Eats Sun develop and strengthen with the help of her fellow writers and producers.

Girl Eats Sun was also Hope’s first project that took on a corresponding visual identity. The cover art, painted by Canadian pop surrealist artist Stephen Gibb, is a whimsical interpretation of the EP’s musical themes. Each song from the EP is represented in Gibb’s piece: Hope — the Girl in question — taking a bite out of a fairytale-like grinning sun, a pair of “Cherries” dangling from her earlobe, and a bird sporting a blue dress and boxing gloves (“All My Girls Like To Fight”) backdropped by a warm psychedelic landscape.

Six years after the release of Girl Eats Sun, Hope is entering a completely new era. She likens her upcoming record to a bildungsroman. Hope Handwritten, a “spin on a self-titled album,” is a reflection on existing outside of the formal education system, living independently, and navigating mental health and relationship challenges as an adult.

Initially, Hope planned to release her debut in 2021. When she sent the first draft to her label, they told her it sounded 60% complete. “I remember being crushed by that,” she says. “It’s funny looking back because thank God that version of the album didn’t come out.” Soon after this setback, Hope realized that to create a record she was truly proud of, she needed to live a little bit more. “It’s ironic that I wanted it to be this profound, heartfelt, complex, worldly project because I really hadn’t had those experiences yet,” she says. “All of that change [became] the bedrock of the album.” Only two tracks from the first draft — “Growing Pains” and “Jumping The Gun” — made it to the final Hope Handwritten tracklist.

For Hope, her discography is a collection of books, each track representing a thoughtfully crafted chapter. In the process of completing Hope Handwritten, Hope says, she changed the sequencing of the songs hundreds of times. “I think I just wanted it to instinctively and intuitively feel just right … like the story was going from top to bottom,” she says. To tell her story properly, Hope needed to find a place for each chapter. With “Growing Pains” as the prologue and “Heartbeat” as the epilogue, the remaining fourteen tracks comprise Hope’s coming-of-age narrative.

If Hope Handwritten is a novel, “Magic Or Medicine” is the climax chapter. The meditative foot-tapping fourth track is an anthem of self-assurance. In moments of struggling with her mental health, Hope brainstorms possible remedies to make her feel whole again: practicing mindfulness, finding a therapist, or perhaps, turning to religion. Despite these internal battles, Hope grounds herself in her relationships and being valued by her loved ones.

Similarly, Hope describes “I Can’t Even Cry”, sixth track and lead single, as the crux of Hope Handwritten. “I think that’s because it was the first song I had ever written that felt like it had really touched the most vulnerable place of me,” she says. This moody rhythmic track encapsulates the record’s primary theme of hope — “the trajectory of having hope, losing hope, and finding it again.” Hope chronicles the feelings associated with the end of a relationship: first grief, then numbness, then resolve and optimism.

On Oct. 17, Hope played her first headline hometown show at the O2 Academy in Islington, with her family and friends making up much of the sold-out crowd. “When I was singing ‘I Can’t Even Cry’ and the chorus came along, I remember singing it and thinking ‘What am I hearing?’ because I had my in-ears in,” she says. “I realized that a lot of people were singing along, and I became very moved and cried. It was an embarrassing but really beautiful moment.” Hope recalls the comfort she felt as her listeners embraced the early hints of Hope Handwritten with open arms and ears.

Hope stresses the importance of identity and human connection to her creativity. As a Jamaican-British queer woman, she has purposefully sought out like-minded and similar communities in both of the cities she calls home. “Being a creative in these communities feels so special,” she muses. “Having other queer people and people of color celebrate me and reach out to me and have conversations with me makes me feel closer to myself. I just feel extra proud and excited about the future of the communities that I belong to.” For Hope, the “biggest privilege” of her career has been creating art that listeners can relate to and feel understood by.

Hope Handwritten is the sum of its parts, all the way down to the collaged cover art. The piece, created by graphic designer Wyatt Anderson, features a still of Hope shot by photographer Ragan Henderson, hand-painted stars, pasted images of floral bouquets, and snippets of lyrics most true to the record’s musical themes. “There’s something cool about the fact that the artwork was taken in motion,” Hope says, referring to the still she chose from Henderson’s 60-millimeter film. The shot is a pause in chaos, much like the lived experiences that inspired the record. Hope Handwritten is “rough around the edges” — just like any good coming-of-age story should be.

When I ask Hope which lyric best embodies Hope Handwritten, she quietly sings the second verse of fourteenth track “Miracle” aloud to jog her memory. “If the pain comes, we’ll still have the poetry” are the words she lands on. “I think that [lyric] really sums up my mid-20s,” she says. “It was difficult so much of the time, but there was also so much light and joy and so many supportive people and such incredible friendship and opportunity and experience. Life is all ups and downs, but there’s always something to live for and look forward to.”

This year, Hope Tala is choosing to be an open book. Her debut record Hope Handwritten is a testament to not just to her patience but to her acceptance and her understanding of herself. Most of all, it’s a testament to her commitment to learning, feeling, and trusting herself the whole way.