Leifur James is finding the equilibrium between light and shade

Embracing the light and hope of his new city, on third album Magic Seeds, James strikes a balance between environmental and societal upheaval and organic songwriting and studio edits, positioning dark themes of modern life against the hope of a better future.

Growing up in the UK capital, James’ love of dance and electronic music had him exploring the city's underground nightlife from a young age, but it was at the legendary Plastic People that he found his formative inspiration. “When I was fourteen I went to raves under Vauxhall Bridge and was coming back at god knows what time. It was so cold, but there was this great warmth of the music culture in London that I feel balances that quite literal cold in the morning,” he smiles. “I'd come through that sort of post-dubstep era in 2009 and then hearing Plastic People and the warmth of the tones from world music just really inspired me.”

James was also influenced by his uncle, a jazz guitarist who opened his world to a wider range of genres. In his early teens, he developed a passion for film, with scenes from cinema still impacting his writing today. “I was watching the Cohen brothers films and they always had this kind of warm, African-American jazz in their films, and artists like Nina Simone were a big part of my tutelage,” he says. “It’s the feeling that when you're hit with a scene in a film or a book or a TV show that really impacts you in a very deep way, and it's not just from one element. It’s not just the sound or the visual, it's how the narrative combines with the sound and visual and takes you at that point.”

Magic Seeds, James’ third record, released on the independent Night Time Stories label, best known for their Late Night Tales series, lays bare its own journey. Bringing together elements and learnings from his previous two releases, he draws on the dark sonics of 2020’s Angel in Disguise and the jazz tenets of his 2018 debut A Louder Silence, but leans heavier into his chops as a songwriter. First single “Smoke in the Air” is an atmospheric cut of pulsing instrumentation, built around a pragmatic DJ Shadow-influenced bassline, James’ vocal sliced and paste across brief melodies, while recent release “Euphoria” levels Madlib-intoned synth licks against a capacious, cinematic topline.

For James, his surroundings greatly impact his writing. Some of his previous music had been penned at his dad’s house in Avebury, famous for its prehistoric stone circle and henge. “I realised those stones were impacting how I was writing,” he says. “‘Wurlitzer’ was written in the time I was there and that's a very sort of neo-classical intensive piece and I think that environment was impacting how I was writing, so I made that decision to bring a bit of light to the record.”

At the start of 2023, James began a slow transition to life in Lisbon. Prior to his departure, off the back of the pandemic, he’d spent a day in session laying down what would become the backbone of Magic Seeds. After being contacted by producer Oli Bayston, known for his solo work as Boxed In and production for the likes of Olivia Dean and Rachel Chinouriri, they collaborated, bringing together drummer Leo Taylor (The Invisible, Floating Points) and violinist and composer Raven Bush (Speakers Corner Quartet). “I had some ideas that I wanted to bring in for the day, but also I wanted to leave it very raw. We were just reacting off each other as musicians and there wasn't such a structure,” he says.

James was also inspired by Talk Talk’s pioneering Spirit of Eden record, the creative process for which took place over the course of a year in a blacked out room with little direction or communication. “I wanted that sound in the record, of us all in the room, like somebody coughing in the background and a bit of a clank on the floor of someone dropping their glass or something,” he says. “Leo said afterwards, ‘That just felt so good after all that Covid period, to play together.’ We were all pretty energised by it. And then a week later, we all realised we got Covid on that day together.”

He also left the session with a forty-minute recording that had begun as a small collection of ideas, a direct metaphor for the album’s title. “I find if you get too structured with music before you record it, you're holding it within a frame and you're perhaps not staying open to the magic of combined musicians who are just there and feeling something together, a bit on the edge of interpretation from one another,” he says. “That's where magic happens in music, I find.”

Once comfortable in Lisbon, James set about editing his recordings. A process of trial and testing, he built structure around the sounds and added his own ideas, the change in setting impacting his approach. “I think this record is in that sort of transition as well,” he says. “It was born in London, but Lisbon really helped me make the final decisions, just walking around with the air and the lights. It's a lighter record than my previous one and I think that was somewhat influenced by how I finished it in Lisbon.”

The editing process also brought its own questions as he played with the recordings, adding and taking away with no solid deadline. “That can drive you nuts, sometimes,” he laughs. “When you have an original recording, you can stay with that recording or you can layer things and use that as a basis to grow a track. I wanted to test myself a bit more as a songwriter and challenge that side of myself. I want to do a remix version of it and see where that goes. But for now, this was the outcome and I'm proud of what's there.”

A dynamic and captivating listen that weaves seamlessly between ideas and inspirations, its accompanying visuals are by multi-disciplinary artist Jonathan Zawada, a bright but enigmatic tapestry spreading across the cover. Collaborating with Zawada on the album’s creative direction, James spent as much time refining their artistic process. “It's got this red and gold that you would almost see in Indian tapestries and then the tree root system, we spoke a lot about that. At one point the album cover had the tree actually in it but we decided to remove the tree and just leave that ambiguous,” he says. “Are they roots? Are they a bodily system? I’ll leave that for the viewer to decide.”