To celebrate the 10th anniversary of his album Wishes, RHODES performed a series of acoustic shows in Paris, Berlin, and London. This honest and sensitive album allowed him to connect deeply with his audience. During his concert in Paris, at the Pop Up du Label, Jade from The Concert Chronicles had the honor of meeting him and discussing this landmark album.
Your songs always feel deeply emotional and honest. When you write, do you start from a personal feeling or more from a sound, an image, a word?
I mean, it’s evolved a lot over the years now — how I write songs and the different ways of approaching that starting point of writing a song. But when I was writing Wishes, playing the guitar was very much my emotional outlet, turning up the reverb and being immersed in the sound.
Often what came with that, I found very evocative. If there was something on my mind, I would start humming melodies, and whatever I was feeling would normally just happen and come out that way. Over the years, I’ve developed a number of different ways of writing.
I love writing lyrics now, and having all the lyrics for a song written out, then approaching the chords and the melody. That’s fun, but it’s more like an exercise doing it that way. Sometimes I’ll have a title and think, that’s a cool title, it makes me think of something — I’m going to really chase this down.
But normally it comes from playing around, literally going into the studio or sitting at my desk and picking up an instrument.
Are you writing every day?
I do. I was talking to somebody about this, because even when you don’t think you’re writing every day, you are.
When you’re creative, and when your only way of expressing yourself is through art, you’re constantly looking for ways to do that. Even when I’m on holiday or doing something completely non–music-related, I’m still searching. So, in that respect, I do write every single day. And most days I spend time with my instrument.
Do you feel it’s hard for you to write?
Sometimes. I know some people told me it was so hard for them to write, and you mentioned exercise : sometimes people say, okay, I need to write every day to make sure I’m as honest as possible.
I do find it hard, and I think sometimes it feels easy, but that’s so rare. The ones that feel the easiest to write are often my favorites, because they feel like they just needed to happen. I write a lot with other people now as well, for their own projects, and I do a lot of collaborations.
So that’s a really nice way of me stepping outside of myself and trying to keep creating, but also not having the pressure of trying to say something for me. Actually saying the thing can be really hard sometimes, especially if it is deeply honest, and you’re worried certain people might hear it, or how you’re going to be perceived when people hear this vulnerability. That’s quite hard.
But it’s weird, because I think before I started doing music professionally, I would never have said it was hard, because it was never on my mind that it had to, A, generate income, or B, be something that paid the bills. It was not that at all. I would never have even put the word “hard” next to “writing.” But I think when you get older and it’s your job, there is a pressure with it.
You were talking about writing for others. You just released a single, but it’s electro music, right? It’s really different…
I feel like what’s really strange is that I was always in bands, and I was always in really experimental, often sound experiment projects, where we would not even do shows. We would just spend hours and hours making sounds and noise, getting lost in it, like euphoria. When I started writing my own music, Wishes, and the EPs that came before that, like 10 years ago, I really didn’t want to be labelled as a folk troubadour guy with an acoustic guitar, walking around doing shows.
I regret it a little now. It’s a bit arrogant, but at the time, I was just like no, because that’s not what I want to do. I want to do lots of different things.
At the time, I was listening to Talk Talk, The National, and Radiohead, as well as my heroes like Jeff Buckley. But I was thinking about my two favorites: Damien Rice, very much a folk guy — acoustic guitar, vocal, he’s my hero; and Jeff Buckley, dream vocalist, absolute hero of mine, but way more ethereal, huge moments of crescendo. And then Anohni and the Johnsons — way more experimental to me than just somebody playing the piano and singing. So I just wanted to make sure I was never labelled that way.
Now I’m more like embracing that guy. I actually love doing shows like this, where I’ve just got my acoustic guitar and I can sing. With the electronic music, I used to sort of rebel against it because I was signed to a major label for Wishes, and they really wanted me to do commercial radio dance.
At the time, you just think, no, I’m an artist and I’m doing this. But looking back now, I understand it way more. It was just more about exposure than anything.
I did a few experiments and thought, this isn’t really me. I don’t really love this. But then I did a collaboration with an act called CamelPhat. This was back in 2020, or 2021. We did a song called “For a Feeling,” and it just connected with so many people.
They’re DJs. They’ve had a few radio songs, but they’re mainly club DJs. You see them in the club playing my song that I did with them, and it’s like, oh my God, this is really connecting. It’s not too far away from some of the stuff I was doing on Wishes. It’s really ethereal, really emotional. I’ve been trying to chase that in the dance collaborations I’m doing.
Wishes was 10 years ago, so you’re not the same person as 10 years later. How do you feel you’ve evolved as an artist since Wishes?
It’s weird, because I don’t think I’ve really evolved that much as an artist. I think I’ve remained that same person, really. In terms of evolution, I’ve just become way more accepting of myself and way more collaborative. When I made Wishes, it was just me and my friend James, who’s here tonight, recording these shows. It was just the two of us in the studio. I think I was too afraid of letting people in.
I was too afraid to open up to anyone else. I wanted to make the music and then have people hear it. There was something in me that really wanted to be like, I need to do this and I need to do it on my own.
I’ve just become way more open to collaboration, and I’ve started to thrive in that space and love collaborating. I guess those are the two main things that have evolved since Wishes.
What keeps you inspired to keep creating, especially in moments of doubt?
That’s always there. I have this huge imposter syndrome thing. Even if you have therapy and do all these things, and you open your Instagram messages and people are telling you how great you are, and your friends are telling you how great you are — it’s still there.
The other day, someone was telling me that a song I’d written was great. I thought, maybe they meant to send that to someone else about another song. Maybe they didn’t mean to send that to me. Maybe I shouldn’t reply because it’ll embarrass them. Then I realized, no, they’re saying it to me. It’s just crazy, but I’m always inspired to write. The self-doubt is the only thing that really stands in the way.
I’m always inspired. I tend to feel things very deeply. My parents live separately, but still in the area I grew up in. Whenever I go back there, not far from where I live, I always take a drive to where I grew up — the park I used to play in, places where memories happened.
I stopped outside a shop the other day and just sat there thinking about the 12, 13-year-old kids who would sit on that bench. Reconnecting with feelings is a huge part of being an artist. When you’re younger, you tend to write more about the present — breakups, heartbreaks, things happening now.
Now, writing my fourth album, it’s much more about memories of emotions I’ve experienced. One of the biggest struggles is tapping back into that, because it can be painful — constantly revisiting pain. A lot of what I write comes from anxiety, self-doubt, and all of that, which is a consequence of trauma and pain.
If you’re constantly revisiting that, it unearths things. But I feel almost like it’s my duty to express those feelings, because then it connects with someone who might be young. Any age, anyone can connect — it’s crazy. That’s the power of music. That’s always been what I need from music: connection, escapism, and understanding. I can’t imagine not doing that. I feel very lucky I can channel it, even if it’s hard.
And so looking ahead, what dream project or collaboration would you like to make happen?
Because I’m doing all of this dance and electronic stuff and really enjoying it, I’m going to spend some time in LA at the beginning of next year. I’ll stay there for a while, and I’d love to get in the studio with some of those bigger DJs — Calvin Harris or someone like that.
Right now, it’s a lot about dance. But the lyrics are really deep and really sad, and it works so well. That’s what I’m striving for. If I’m going to do these collaborations, I want to bring something meaningful to it.
I’ve done so many sessions learning how to do it, where I felt I needed to do what I thought they wanted. But I went to Morocco with a big DJ a few weeks ago, back in May, and we spent a week writing for him. His manager and the DJ told me, don’t forget you’re here because we want you. You’re not here just to sing — we’re telling you to sing what you would write.
That struck me as profound. Up to that point, I thought, oh yeah, that’s actually why I’m here, not because I can just sing. So that’s the mission. I want to keep collaborating with bigger people, but bring myself into it and not be afraid to be deep and meaningful in that space.
Writing and performing can be very personal — is there one of your songs that feels like it’s “too honest,” and how do you decide what to share?
There’s a song on my latest album called “The Drive.” That was one of those songs where I wrote all the words down. That whole album was about my own trauma, but also generational trauma and the way we carry it down.
I was trying to write an album that was more of a concept album. “The Drive” is a song I find really hard to sing. While writing, I wondered if I should put it on the album. It’s about family, things unsaid, and how that affects me. There’s a fear of upsetting anyone. Personally, though, I don’t think there’s anything I’m afraid to say.
I’m a huge advocate for showing your emotions and not holding them in.
Let’s talk a little bit about Wishes. What’s your favorite song on the album?
I’m super happy because Wishes is going to release a new version. The only reason we didn’t do it this year is because of contract rules.
There’s a song, “Turning Back Around,” that I wrote. Originally, it was called “Drowning.” There were a couple of different bits missing from it, and that was one of the songs I collaborated on.
Remember the band Noah and the Whale? I was a huge fan of theirs. They did an album called First Days of Spring, and it was just so beautiful. It turned out that someone I knew, Charlie, and we met, and we ended up living in the same neighborhood. We wrote that together. My original version wasn’t written entirely with him; we just wrote some extra bits to make it a bit more — I don’t know — whatever my label thought it needed at the time. But I love that song.
It’s about being in a transitional moment — where you’re like, okay, cool, I have an opportunity now, but I know I’m going to have to make sacrifices. Turning away from negativity and toxicity, going for something, following your heart. Knowing some people might be upset, but choosing yourself over others — that’s what the song is about.
I love that song. There are a few others I love as well. It’s been really nice relearning them all and thinking, oh man, I definitely would have changed that lyric. Back then, I wasn’t paying as much attention to lyrics as I am now.
Sometimes I wonder if now I filter myself too much. When I’m writing stream of consciousness and putting pen to paper, I find myself self-editing. Changing first person, adjusting past and present, thinking I should modify this — maybe it dilutes it. I’m trying to unlearn all the industry programming I’ve absorbed and get back to that raw feeling.
My mission has always been to write something timeless, and it’s been ten years and people are still discovering it — that’s the beauty of streaming.
I’m really grateful for that, and happy I stuck to what I wanted to do. During studio sessions, the label would suggest things — adding drums, hip-hop elements, other experiments. While those could have been fun, I felt they would timestamp the songs in a way I didn’t want. I wanted them to feel timeless.
Is there a particular moment from recording that really stuck with you — maybe a happy accident that made a song special?
At the very end of the recording process, I wrote three ideas. We were mixing, so I would often be in the live room playing around on instruments while James (producer) was finishing studio mixes. I wrote “You & I” and “Losing It.” “Losing It” is one of my favorites on the album because it shares the same thought as “Turning Back Around.”
A lot of people questioned what I was doing. I was in a band I had to leave, and people were angry with me. They said I was mad for leaving, that I should have stayed — just because of my nature.
I started to lose myself. It wasn’t during moments when I was doing well in music; it was before that. This transitional period felt like, okay, I’m writing these songs, this could work. I feel really good about this.
I had a group of friends in a toxic circle. Camden in London, late nights, lots of drinking, partying, going out. While I enjoyed it, it went on too long. Many friends were getting depressed, caught in a vicious cycle. I was watching and thinking, I don’t want that for myself. You want to escape from this.
Let’s finish with funny questions to describe more your universe as an artist.
If your music were an ice cream flavor, what would it be?
I’d say vanilla, but vanilla’s associated with being “boring.” It’s a bad joke. So, let’s say Belgian chocolate. Dark. Chocolate.
If someone asked you what color defines your music, what would you say?
The color I always associate with my music is a deep blue — really dark midnight blue. Like the night sky.
What’s the most unexpected song on your personal playlist right now?
Right now, I mostly have baby songs because I basically have a one-year-old child. But I’d say “Earth on Fire,” because my other son, he’s eight, listens to it a lot these days. People don’t expect him to listen to that kind of music. He’s really into Stevie Wonder lately, which is kind of wild to me. But he already knows exactly what he likes. Sometimes I look at him and think, who are you? It’s so cool.
Follow RHODES | WEBSITE | INSTAGRAM | FACEBOOK | SPOTIFY | APPLE MUSIC
Leave a Reply