It's made for neon and quiet attention — reading, working late, the last hour of a day. Play it low; it was made low.
Why is it all so… slow?
Because nocturnal jazz-ambient isn't trying to win the room. It's the city at night, mostly — made to sit underneath a moment rather than interrupt it.
What am I actually hearing?
Mostly electric piano, in nocturnal jazz-ambient. Influences somewhere in the background: Erik Satie, Claude Debussy, Ludovico's quiet school.
What order should I listen in?
However you like — but the records are built to be heard whole, start to finish, in one sitting if you have it.
Can I use a track in a video / podcast / game?
Get in touch through the label with the details. Small and independent projects are welcome to ask.
A note on listening
Put it on and forget it's there. That's the idea.
Log
Where “Neon Latitude” came from
“Neon Latitude” began with one image of the city at night I couldn't put down — a small thing I kept circling.
The electric piano does the thinking here; I only choose what to keep.
That is all it wants to be.
Anyway. Enjoy, or don't.
How it gets made
The method is dull and I'm proud of it — a electric piano, a quiet room, the delete key.
I keep the mistakes that sound like weather and cut the ones that sound like mistakes.
In the lineage of Erik Satie, Claude Debussy, Ludovico's quiet school, if I'm honest.
A season of the city at night
I don't choose the city at night; it keeps choosing me.
The electric piano does the thinking here; I only choose what to keep.
Play it low. It was made low.
Behind “Mercury Hours”
There is a single feeling under “Mercury Hours”: the city at night.
I kept the takes that sounded like weather and cut the rest.
It isn't a message — it's company for a particular hour.
What this life is like
Ambient work asks you to be patient in a world that isn't. That's a strange way to spend your twenties, thirties, whatever this is.
There's no roar of a crowd in nocturnal jazz-ambient; there's a person, somewhere, listening alone at midnight. I try to make it for them.
It's a quiet life. Mostly I'm grateful for it.
The story
The urban night — neon on wet pavement, a Wurlitzer, the last metro home.
Officially: nocturnal jazz-ambient on electric piano. Unofficially: I found a corner of neon and never left.
There are a few records — “Neon Latitude”, “Mercury Hours” — which is more than I expected and fewer than my mother hoped.
Trained at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama in London — the theatre never entirely wore off.