Aidan Tulloch, artist and activist, spoke with us on how the nationwide lockdown helped him to push forth to create his new EP “Somewhere With Out Lights.” With songs like “Song For Armageddon”, Aidan is already discussing what we are all currently feeling in his music. When Aidan isn’t busy writing music or at school, he is actively sharing music with elderly, refugee asylum seekers, and adults with learning disabilities — after all, “music is something that unites us all together”. Please read further to learn more about Aidan, his music, and how he is giving back.

Where are you based?
It’s actually a good question! I’ve been based in Thirsk here in North Yorkshire over the last 6 months. I’m in the house that I’ve lived in almost all my life. I’m at Uni in Cambridge, and I’ll be somewhere a bit more permanently next year. I’ll always be a Thirsk boy at heart, though!

What inspired you to get into music?
I actually was always really into the technical and classical side and went through the usual motions with the violin and piano. Then, when I got into pop and indie and the like through my teenage years, I often ended up relying on music for sanctuary. It made a lot of sense that I’d have a go at making it myself. It was coming back home after the first term of Uni that consolidated it. I realised it was my main outlet for everything and that it was worth getting into in a serious way. I haven’t looked back since.

How would you describe the music that you typically create?
Exciting, poetic, and intricate, but catchy, easy listening, and youthful. As suitable for aux chords as it is for emotional crises.

Can you please tell us a little bit about your new EP "Somewhere Without Lights" and what inspired it?
I can! I wanted to do something more substantial than a single — to be a curator as well as a songwriter. There’s three songs on there, as well as an instrumental piece of new contemporary piano, and a little DIY kinda B-side thing that people seem to have really got into as well. In fact, on that point, a filmmaker I know has been working on a short film that he’s kind of based on that track, which is really special to me. It’s really cool to have resonated with a fellow creative with just two minutes of self-expression. In a similar way, I’ve been working with five really fantastic graphic and type designers to make a series of official lyric posters for the songs.

In a quote for your debut EP "Somewhere Without Lights," you stated, “Sound and light get a chance to go off-piste.” Can you talk about the message behind this?
At night the world feels exciting, like an installation. Artificial light is striking; it blurs; it’s multicoloured, and it moves with speed. Sound takes you by surprise because sometimes it’s amplified and sometimes it’s just completely silent.

The first song on your EP, “Milk and Orange Juice,” is seen as ‘a track that recalls the familiar catharsis of a heady night.’ We also thought of music as a catharsis. It can often help people transition from depression to acceptance. Which stage do you think people can find themselves when they listen to this song and your music in general?
I think a lot of the appeal for “Milk and OJ” is the sense of submersion in the music — whether that’s the drops, or the pianos, or the vocals, or even the lyrics that are all about losing yourself. Perhaps something’s just happened to you, or you’re almost ready to take on the world once again, or if you’re just feeling brilliant, or just need a quick recharge. Regardless of where you are, this track is a place to come to close your eyes and get lost.

Jejune loves your song “Song For Armageddon.” It feels very appropriate for our times. Was it inspired by all that is going on? If not what inspired it?
Thank you! That means a lot. I really like Jejune, so it’s mutual there. Interesting that you pick up on that song in particular — it’s definitely the most politically-engaged track on there. It wasn’t inspired by, as you say, all that is going on. In fact, when the pandemic began I did think that it made the whole song seem quite prescient. Rather, the song came to life in a heatwave over last summer when I was riding a coach through the South of England and everything seemed just too much. Each new office or warehouse development on greenfield space seemed particularly rough on that 30-odd degree Saturday. I let the song lie for a while, then it felt essential again when the winter General Election went the way it did. Likewise, it seemed even more bitter when it was dark by 4 pm. I wanted a song that people could listen to when anything felt too much — whether that was politics or the environment (like it was for me), or a relationship, or a job, or a night, or the feeling of January.

Your title track "Somewhere Without Lights” is the only instrumental on your album, and has a bit of a different sound, almost lonely. Can you talk about this beautiful piece?
It felt necessary to have some space at the end of the record. Space to breathe and just to lie in. You’ve got to be careful with piano music to make sure that it doesn’t become too cliche or too much like a bargain bucket relaxation CD. I went in there and played around with time signatures, and registers, and harmony, learning a lot from the likes of Reich and Glass. I put something together that really stands up as good quality composition that absolutely anybody can get some kind of comfort from. Now ‘imagine you’re on a beach…’

Jejune loves that you are a big advocate of the sharing of music as part of projects with a) refugees and asylum seekers, b) adults with learning disabilities, and c) the elderly, housebound, or isolated. These three populations sound very different, but they all live in some form of isolation. Why is it important to you to work with these populations?
It’s perhaps something of a cliche, but it’s just so true — music is something that unites us all together. It’s just the most powerful thing when it comes to community, emotion, and excitement. When I’ve been, say, in a care home playing for some people who perhaps have dementia, it’s amazing how the mood in the room changes as soon as the live music starts. Faces light up, feet start to tap, and sometimes a particular hook or melody can bring memories and stories back from decades ago. All of those communities you mention have a particular set of challenges; some of those are structural, some are physical, some are political. But also some are social, and for those, music is a profoundly powerful tool. It’s our duty, as people with those talents, to use them for good when we get the opportunity.

Can you speak about some of the work you have done with these populations and some of the organizations you have worked with?
One of my favourite things I’ve ever been part of in a musical capacity was when I hosted this sharing of song and dance evening in Teesside. We were there with our ceilidh band bringing trad Irish, Scottish, and northern English tunes and dances. There were refugees and asylum seekers from so many different places, all sharing their own traditional song and dance. By the end, we were all singing an Eritrean song, dancing a Syrian dance, and humming a Kurdish tune. It was so special to have been part of that we did it all over again a couple of months later. I’d also really like to give a shoutout to the Jennyruth Workshops charity in Ripon, which is a place where adults with learning disabilities are trained in a wide variety of skills. On lots of occasions, I’ve been up there with the violin, a guitar, or with a band. We’ve had a great time sharing music with the folks there, with plenty of drums and tambourines to go round!

COVID has been hard for everyone, but some populations are being hit harder than others. For example, the three populations you spend a lot of time with. Refugees and asylum seekers are being kicked out of countries or, worse, trapped who knows where. Can you speak a little a bit about what you have heard and how these people can find a safe place to be during a pandemic? How can others help?
On one hand, there’s the epidemiological side of things. The whole 1% of humanity that is understood to be ‘forcibly displaced’ are people who are disproportionately in situations that are more conducive to transmission, whether that’s overcrowded camps, low-income, gig-economy, front-line, irregular jobs, or homelessness. And then there’s also the trauma, and so-called ‘psychosocial’ aspects, that comes from job loss, bereavement, stress, and loneliness, on top of displacement. For one example, we’re all aware that a lot of events, programs, and processes have moved online; but the movement to digital assumes a stable internet connection and a working device, which inevitably ends up leaving the most disadvantaged people in the most hardship as the people who lose out. If people are interested in the impact on refugees and migrants, then they should have a read about the ApartTogether project from various unis, the UN, and the WHO, which is a study into exactly that.

We also feel for the elderly, housebound, isolated, and adults with learning disabilities during this time. Many of them don’t fully understand what is happening and/or are at a higher risk of COVID. Have you been able to work with any of these groups during this? I feel they need us more than ever.So true. Any lockdown period is so tough for anyone. For people who are isolated it’s even harder, especially when there’s already a lot of fear. We have to be careful of course, particularly when it comes to people who are more vulnerable to the respiratory disease associated with the virus. For a long time, the only possibility was just a wave or a conversation through a window. When things eased up, me and Luke, my main collaborator on the EP and in the band, got back out there and played acoustic violin and guitar outside. It’s always special playing with Luke, but when you’re the first live entertainment that someone’s seen for months… that’s just something we’ll never forget.

This summer you spent some time interning at S8nations. Can you tell us a little bit about this organization and its mission? Why do you think they are so important?
Me and Louis, who’s been my friend since we were 4 years old, are both really into global affairs and policy. We’re always looking for organisations that share our values that we can help out. We each have real ambitions going forwards with our lives to balance our own primary pursuits (like the music in my case!) with work within NGOs. That’s what happened at the start of this summer with S8, who were advertising for student interns. They’re an annual summit of smaller countries that feel that their voices are drowned out by the bigger global players. We’ve found this to be so important when we’ve come across ideas about sustainable cities from Denmark or the Netherlands, renewable energy from Switzerland, or philanthropy from Canada, for example.

How can other countries learn from what the S8nations is doing? Do you think a country like the United States could apply this knowledge, knowing how diverse a population we have?
Exactly. I think the idea is that the bigger and more vocal global powers have a lot of progress to make when it comes to the environment, social equalities, public services, peace, poverty, urban design, and so much more.

How has COVID personally impacted you?
I ended up missing the third term at Uni — which was a bit of a shame, but also a real relief when it came to having exams cancelled. It meant that I was back up here in Thirsk for much longer than I would have been. That’s where this EP comes in and also (once lockdown lifted a bit) the opportunity to see so much of my Yorkshire mates. I’m really spontaneous, so who knows what I’d have ended up doing without the restrictions.

How are you staying positive during this time? Do you think music has helped you deal with these days? Without a doubt. Making this record pretty much kept me going when lockdown first kicked in. To have something every day to do brought me such excitement and such a sense of purpose.

What is your motto in life?
One of my favorite bands is The Twilight Sad and one of their album titles really resonates with me. It’s called “It Won’t Be Like This All the Time.” It’s like the old saying, ‘this too shall pass,’ which I think is just a really useful sentiment that brings hope in the hardest times. Then in the good times, it reminds you not to be complacent, but also to really make the most of it! It’s not always easy to remember this idea when you’re in the heat of the moment, but, hey — if you can, just breathe. It won’t be like this all the time.

To learn more about Aidan Tulloch, please follow him via the below platforms:
www.aidantulloch.com
Instagram: @aidan.tulloch
Bandcamp: www.aidantulloch.bandcamp.com
Spotify: Aidantulloch

Photography by Ryan Kilbourne

Aidan Tulloch - Song For Armageddon