rathlin from a distance | the liquid hour
New album out 04.04.25
rathlin from a distance
There is something transformative about being at sea. Away from the noise and weight of the world, you are left with the raw, untamed forces of nature - and yourself. It was on the 2023 sailing tour with QUINQUIS, as we journeyed from our home on Ushant Island to the Faroe Islands, that I truly began to understand this.
We travelled through Ireland, the Faroe Islands, Shetland, Scotland, and Wales, playing gigs in unexpected places, challenging the capitalist framework of music and life itself. Instead of centring money, we centred people: interactions, exchanges, and art. This was more than a tour; it was an experiment - a search for a sustainable way of living and working.
At sea, facing the vastness of the ocean, I began to shed the expectations, constructs, and roles that society places on us. The waves demand honesty. They strip away the pretence, the masks, the carefully constructed identities. You are left only with what is real. It is a space where you can begin to challenge your beliefs, your identity, your gender - even the person you thought you were.
Rathlin from a Distance is born of this experience. Each piano piece is tied to a place we visited, but also to a moment of meditation. These are not just compositions; they are maps to the self. They are meant to guide you to the core of who you are - not the version of yourself moulded by societal expectations, but the real you, the one beneath the surface.
For anyone who has ever felt unmoored in a world that often demands we hide our truths, this collection is for you. It is a call to connect, to be vulnerable, and to find solace in the authenticity that comes from facing the forces around - and within - you.
I hope these pieces resonate with you and help you chart your own journey to self-discovery.
the liquid hour
It’s the liquid hour. The tide pulls sharp and salt-bitten from the Faroe Islands’ edge, and I’m at the helm. Belfast glimmers distant, a constellation sprawled over black water, and I’m alone. The night is taut with sound - Kae Tempest’s voice cutting clean through the thick sea air.
I think of the bruises left by systems grinding against us, the injustices like waves beating the same rock, the scars they carve into living flesh. I feel the fury bubble up - ancient, raw, electric. It burns through me. The water becomes a mirror to my rage. And hope.
There’s a war to wage. Not the kind that takes life but the kind that breathes it back in. Against the grinning rot of greed and the vultures, fat on decay. Against the choking vines of capitalism, binding our roots, stealing our light. For the lovers and the fighters. For the ones whose lives have been drained dry, whose sparks still smoulder in secret. For solidarity. For equality. For every being that breathes.
I feel it swelling inside me, this energy, this urge to act, to gather, to shout, to rise. Because the future doesn’t wait. It’s there - blinding, brilliant, gender-fluid, shimmering with brightness. It’s a wipe out of everything that’s broken. A rebuilding, hand in hand, heart to heart, until there’s no room left for despair.
This is for you. With your hope and your rage. For all of us, for what’s coming, for what we’ll build together. The soundtrack to our uprising.