Experimental producer, composer and vocalist Leifur James announces the release of his third album ‘Magic Seeds’ via Night Time Stories on 8th November. ‘Magic Seeds’ is a rebirth of sorts, and his most collaborative and personal offering yet. Out today, opening track and lead single ‘Smoke in the Air’ sets the scene, spectral and hypnotic; there are often literary and artistic references in James’s music but here it was the “barren romance” of the film ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire.’ Like many songs on ‘Magic Seeds,’ ‘Smoke InThe Air’ evokes the wonder of the natural world but also the threat to it, underlined by gritty, DJ Shadow-influenced bass.
Over the past few years, James has steadily built a reputation as a vital new voice in electronic music on both sides of the Atlantic. He’s played prestigious London venues with European tours to match, including notable nights at Village Underground and the Barbican, gaining support along the way from the likes of Pitchfork, KCRW, BBC 6Music, NTS, Gilles Peterson, Mary Anne Hobbs, Bradley Zero and actor Cillian Murphy.
His 2018 debut album ‘A Louder Silence‘ defied convention, deftly blending IDM and minimalist avant-garde influences with Nina Simone-inspired vocals and capturing heady nights at London’s long-lost and beloved club Plastic People. A remix EP followed, featuring respected leftfielders including Bruce, FaltyDL and Coby Sey, yet James refused to stay in one lane. ‘Wurlitzer’s’ ominous crescendo of neo-classical piano and sub-bass won acclaim at film festivals thanks to its visual by Hungarian director Balázs Simon, and then came his second, more challenging electronic full-length. 2020’s ‘Angel in Disguise’ garnered attention from the dance music world, earning praise from Mixmag, CRACK and DJ Mag, and culminating in a full performance on Boiler Room.
During the recording of ‘Magic Seeds’, James went into the studio in London with drummer Leo Taylor (Floating Points Ensemble), violinist Raven Bush (Speakers Corner Quartet) and producer/engineer Oli Bayston (whose recent credits include Kelly Lee Owens). James embarked on the mammoth task of editing those sessions down into unique productions, rearranging everything with laser-like precision over the following two years. There are plenty of unexpected moments on ‘Magic Seeds’ – see the choir bursts and slinky yet ominous rhythm of ‘Forest Of Love.’ or the motoric groove and psychedelic churn of ‘Measure of Mind’. In 2023 his Lisbon relocation signalled a new period of growth and reconnection. These are themes, both personal, societal and environmental, that reveal themselves subtly throughout the record. It’s in the mystical title and striking cover art by Jonathan Zawada that shows red, lightning-like roots spreading into the earth, to songs like harp-filled ditty ‘Wake Up Spring,’ life-affirming ‘Alive,’ and evocative ‘Euphoria,’ complete with lambent tapestry of guitar, sun-dappled synth, off-kilter drums and piercing falsetto. Elsewhere, he has leaned into 90s electronic influences on ‘Inner Child,’ boasting a delicious wob-wob and tense strings that contrast the Jeff Buckley-rivalling vocals. Or theres the tumbling UK bass of ‘Lay’,’ James’s ode to his formative years in mid-2000s London clubs, where genres like house, garage and dubstep would collide. One inspiration came from an unlikely source: over his dad’s fence. His neighbour is Jagz Kooner, who worked with Primal Scream and was in Sabres In Paradise with Andrew Weatherall, and James would often pop across to share the kernels of ‘Magic Seeds’ with him, listening to the album surrounded by countryside.
For now, ‘Magic Seeds’ illuminates James as one of those rare composers who is capable of taking listeners to great highs and plunging them into inky depths; moody and moving music that feels equally airy, as if it was composed outside under the moon – which, he jokes, is exactly where he hopes people will listen to it. And though there are tracks that are more songs than soundscapes, he eschews formulas for musical freedom. It’s an ambitious record that could work both in open spaces and in dank clubs – as long as there is a smoke machine, of course. But more than anything, it feels as if it’s living and breathing; a sonic collage of James’s past few years whirled into one.
