Ren Is the Musician You Didn’t Know You Needed to Hear

Have you ever had someone share a song with you, and within seconds you realize—you’ve heard it before? That happened to me recently when my husband, Mark, showed me a music video called “Hi Ren.” A few notes in, I felt that flicker of recognition. I’m pretty sure my son first introduced it to me a while back, but at the time, maybe I wasn’t in the right headspace. This time? It landed. Hard.

Ren—born Ren Gill in Bangor, Wales—is a singular kind of artist. His work doesn’t just entertain; it exposes. His struggles with chronic illness, depression, ADHD, and even intermittent psychosis are not only part of his life story—they’re embedded in the music itself. His lyrics are raw, his delivery fearless, and his message clear: we are not alone in our pain.

Three of his songs in particular—Hi Ren, Chalk Outlines, and How to Be Me—have been living rent-free in my head and heart. They are poetic, uncomfortable, comforting, and unforgettable. They remind us what it means to be human—and why it’s worth it to keep trying, even when we feel broken.

Hi Ren - One Man, Two Voices, and the Fight to Be Whole

“Hi Ren” isn’t just a song—it’s a reckoning. It’s a conversation between Ren and his subconscious, performed with nothing but a guitar, a hospital gown, and a rawness that’s hard to look away from. He shifts between personas with theatrical intensity, rapping and singing through themes of mental illness, isolation, creativity, self-doubt, and survival.

What makes "Hi Ren" so powerful isn’t just the technical brilliance—it’s the emotional truth. The video is intense and watching it feels like witnessing someone pull their own soul apart in front of you. He embodies the internal push and pull we all know too well: the voice that lifts us up, and the voice that tears us down. It's brutal. It's honest. And somehow, it’s healing.

Ren doesn’t just confront the darkness—he reclaims his power. The closing verse hits like a war cry:

“So cower at the man I've become, when I sing from the top of my lungs

That I won't retire, I'll stand in your fire, inspire the weak to be strong

And when I am gone, I will rise in the music that I left behind

Ferocious, persistent, immortal like you, we're a coin with two different sides.”

That transformation—from victim to victor, from conflict to co-existence—is what makes "Hi Ren" unforgettable. And then he leaves us with something even more profound. No longer battling, but dancing:

"It was never really a battle for me to win, it was an eternal dance...

And like a dance, the more rigid I became, the harder it got...

So I got older and I learned to relax...

That dance got easier.

It is this eternal dance that separates human beings

From angels, from demons, from gods

And I must not forget, we must not forget

That we are human beings.”

That last line hits like a whisper to the soul. Ren reminds us that the struggle doesn’t define us—but our humanity does. He leaves us not just with awe, but with a sense of connection.

Chalk Outlines – The Hollow Walk Through Depression, and a Glimmer of Hope

“I'm still here in this bed that I crawled in

I hope that I'm someone else in the morning.”

The opening of “Chalk Outlines” lands with quiet devastation. Ren paints the picture of someone so worn down by life, they don’t even recognize themselves anymore—just hoping sleep will bring some kind of reset.

“So take this one

Wash it down and you'll be fine

Then walk around in a floating chalk outline.”

This is depression in motion. You go through the motions, maybe even medicated, but you’re not fully present. You’re a sketch of yourself—alive, but faded.

And then, Chinchilla’s voice floats in like mist. Her entrance elevates the entire song, transforming it into something otherworldly. It’s as if an angel joins him, not to fix the pain, but to hold it gently in harmony. Together, they create something tender and true.

But what I love most is that even in the grief and numbness, there’s hope.

“But little by little, bit by bit

I push it back down with a new habit

If not for long, just for a while

I'll bury myself with a great big smile.”

It’s not perfect, and it’s not permanent—but it’s something. That “great big smile” might be worn like armor, but it’s also a testament to effort. To push through. To staying.

Ren doesn’t romanticize the pain, but he doesn’t leave you hopeless either. And that’s why his music connects—because it tells the whole truth.

How to Be Me – Grief, Change, and the Struggle to Keep Going

“How to Be Me” is one of those songs that slips under your skin. It’s heartbreaking, beautiful, and painfully relatable if you’ve ever carried the weight of grief. The moment Chinchilla’s voice begins—soft, otherworldly—you know you’re entering sacred space. Her tone is chilling in the most breathtaking way, like she's singing straight from the soul.

The line that truly undid me was: “I am scared of being okay, because all things change, all things change.” There’s so much vulnerability wrapped up in that single sentence. It’s the fear of healing only to lose your footing again, of finding peace and watching it slip through your fingers. That lyric says so much about the fragile, unpredictable nature of emotional recovery.

Then comes: “I’ve been talking to the dead.” A line like that stops you cold. Is it about lost loved ones? A version of yourself that no longer exists? Or maybe both. Grief has a way of reshaping who we are, and this song captures that quiet ache—the disorientation of feeling like a stranger in your own life. As the voices rise in harmony and sing “Hallelujah,” it feels like a prayer not for salvation, but for survival.

Ren and Chinchilla together are magic. Their chemistry isn’t just in their voices—it’s in their writing, in the emotional precision of every line. How to Be Me is less of a duet and more of a shared cry in the dark.

Final Thoughts on Ren

Ren’s music isn’t for everyone—and that’s okay. But if it speaks to you, it will speak deeply. It may stay with you long after the last note, nudging you to confront things you’ve buried or helping you feel a little less alone with what you already carry.

Each of these songs feels like a piece of musical flash fiction—a vivid, emotionally charged story told in just a few minutes. Like the best short stories, they hit hard, linger long, and reveal something true. Hi Ren is a visceral inner monologue. Chalk Outlines captures the weight of depression in a few haunting stanzas. How to Be Me is a quiet, aching meditation on grief and survival. None of them overstay their welcome, yet all of them echo long after they end.

Ren doesn’t pretend to have all the answers. He doesn’t offer quick fixes. What he gives us is honesty—raw, poetic, uncomfortable truth wrapped in melody and metaphor. And in a world that so often demands we smile through the pain or filter our emotions, Ren reminds us that being human—messy, struggling, growing, feeling—is enough.

If you've never listened to him before, start with these three songs. Take nine minutes for Hi Ren. Let yourself sit with Chalk Outlines. And if you're ready, open your heart to How to Be Me. You might just hear something that changes how you see yourself—or someone you love.