Michel Neray: Leaning In, Letting Go, and Singing the Human Condition

Michel Neray is not your typical singer-songwriter. His music doesn’t just tell stories—it invites you into them, carrying listeners on emotional, philosophical, and often humorous journeys through what it means to be human. Blending the poetic grit of Leonard Cohen, the melodic flair of Jason Isbell, and the vocal range reminiscent of Billy Joel, Neray has carved out a musical identity that’s both uniquely his and universally resonant.

But that sound didn’t emerge overnight. ‘I’ve always been drawn to music that blends different styles,’ he says. ‘I love great vocals… and there are few singers with a broader range of expression than Billy Joel—from soft and tender to jazz to rock. I think I’ve internalised that into my own vocal sensibility.’

Leaning Into the Rock

Neray’s 2023 debut album, “Kiss the Rock”, takes its name from a paddler’s mantra: when your canoe slams into a rock, your instinct is to lean away—but that’s exactly what tips you. The trick is to lean in, allowing the river to lift and carry you forward. ‘That paddler’s lesson is a powerful metaphor for work and life,’ Neray explains. ‘We can resist and risk capsizing, or we can lean in—using the very forces against us to create resilience, momentum, and breakthrough.’ That metaphor not only drives the album’s title but also anchors his creative and personal ethos. It’s a theme he returns to, consciously or not, in both music and life.

From Cohesion to Creative Liberation

While “Kiss the Rock” was tightly curated in tone and style, Neray’s follow-up album, “human (being)”, broke out of the mould. With sonic nods to Simon & Garfunkel, cowpunk energy, and even a raw, stripped-down cover of “Folsom Prison Blues,” it’s an album that dares to roam. ‘For the first album, I was mindful of presenting a cohesive overall package,’ Neray says. ‘For the second, I let go of that constraint… I realised my voice—both tonally and metaphorically—would always identify me as me.’ The result is a genre-blurring exploration of identity, contradiction, and emotional depth—without losing accessibility or groove.

The Power of Storytelling—On and Off Stage

Neray’s live shows are as much about connection as they are about music. His audiences describe a blend of ‘angelic harmonies, gritty slide guitar,’ and magnetic showmanship. But it’s his storytelling between songs that truly elevates the experience. ‘Songs are often stories,’ he says, ‘but they are never the whole story. If I can peel back the curtain to let people see deeper into who I am, it creates a genuine connection—and gives people a broader context to interact with the songs.’

That philosophy translates into intentional stagecraft. Whether he’s offering a one-liner that reframes a tune or injecting a moment of comedic relief, Neray aims to draw the audience in—emotionally and intellectually. ‘Honestly, I don’t think too much about balancing energy and intimacy,’ he says. ‘My goal is always to create an emotional connection. But hey, if they can tap their toes and swing their hips at the same time, why not?’

Inspiration From the Wild and the Ordinary

Many of Neray’s most poignant songs come from moments of crisis, clarity, or even canine walks. Take “Let the Wild Orchids Grow,” written during a time of intense personal challenge. Its core message—life’s not a promise—is both sobering and liberating.

‘Societal norms want to define us in black and white,’ he reflects. ‘But I’ve come to accept the human experience as more nuanced… we are strong and vulnerable, selfish and selfless, loving and hurtful, all at once.’ Even harder-driving songs like “Don’t Look Behind” stem from those everyday paradoxes: time vs. money, freedom vs. security. For Neray, the mundane is often the muse.

Dual Lives: Speaker and Songsmith

Beyond music, Neray is also a sought-after motivational speaker, recognised for his keynote speeches on leadership and storytelling. He’s spent years helping other artists refine their live banter and narrative pacing. ‘I’m constantly astounded by how many songwriters spend hours obsessing over every word in their lyrics but think they can just wing it live,’ he says with a grin. ‘The purpose of the preamble is not to explain the whole story. It’s to say something that gives the listener a bridge—something that makes them want to hear the song even more.’

His workshops are part performance coaching, part life lesson. Whether on stage or in a seminar, the thread that runs through all his work is human connection.

Creative Chemistry in Collaboration

While Neray performs solo, his musical partnerships—especially with Brianna Goldberg and guitarist Chris Staig—add harmonic and emotional depth to his shows. Their interplay of voices and instruments makes the music feel both expansive and intimate. ‘I love the different styles that blend in a live performance,’ he says. ‘It makes everything more layered, more interesting, and more dimensional.’

At a recent show at Hotel Wolfe Island, that chemistry was palpable. Songs from both albums flowed together effortlessly, tied by mood, momentum, and story. ‘My setlists are both very intentional and very emotional,’ he explains. ‘I want to create the classic rollercoaster for the audience—varying tempos and themes—but also stay true to how connected I am to each song. If it moves me, it stands a better chance of moving the audience.’

What’s Next: A River Runs Through It

As for what’s next, Neray hints at a return to nature—literally. ‘A few fans commented that a lot of my music is inspired by canoe trips, and it’s true,’ he says. ‘Maybe it’s because I just got off the river, but I’m thinking about a stripped-down, unplugged EP of river songs—both old and new.’ It would be a fitting next chapter for an artist who writes not just to entertain, but to explore and reflect.

‘I’m still just as messed up, uncertain, afraid, and insecure as anyone,’ he admits. ‘But I think that owning that is where you find your strength. That’s why I write. That’s why I sing.’ And in doing so, Michel Neray gives the rest of us permission to do the same—to lean in, even when the current isn’t taking us where we think we want to go.