Interviews

In an exclusive Q&A, we sit down with James E Burton, a solo artist known for his genre-blending soundscapes. Hailing from the south coast of England, James shares how he went from making music as a "personal escape" during lockdown to releasing his third album, The Quiet Rush, with NuNorthern Soul. We explore his creative process, key influences, and the evolution of his unique style.

Hello James, great to speak with you today. Can you introduce yourself to our readers?

My name's James, and I'm based in Southbourne, near Bournemouth on the south coast of England. I've always been drawn to downtempo sounds, though it's hard to pin me down to one genre—I tend to drift between styles depending on where the music takes me. I started out at the end of secondary school, messing around on a four-track recorder before spending about twenty years in bands with friends. We had a post-punk outfit called The Hat and later an electronic/post-rock band called Blind Voyeurs. These days I mostly work as a solo artist, blending guitar and synths with foley and found sounds—often samples I've collected from walks.

Making music in this way started off as a kind of personal escape rather than something I imagined would ever be released. During lockdown I threw myself into production for the first time, writing every single day, usually in the early mornings before work. That discipline carried me through some very difficult times, and it’s become part of who I am. The music I make now is really just an honest reflection of my state of mind—it’s niche and personal, but I think that’s what makes it meaningful.

You’ve now had two albums under your belt and are releasing your third with NuNorthern Soul. How has your sound evolved from your debut, The Star Rover, to The Quiet Rush?

The Star Rover will always hold a special place for me—it was my first self-release and came out of that strange, suspended moment of lockdown. It was rough around the edges, but I think that’s part of its charm. A track like Southern Flow, built around field recordings, really captured the stillness of those hot, quiet afternoons when the world had almost stopped. The feedback from friends at that point gave me the motivation to keep going.

After that I experimented a lot, releasing EPs and gradually honing my sound. One of them, Universe of Love, caught the ear of a French mastering engineer called Lucas, who became a real source of encouragement and guidance. That led into So Where Now From Here, where I began to blend live instrumentation with samples and spoken word. It pulled in elements of lo-fi house, downtempo, and Balearic sounds, and even ended with a neoclassical-inspired piece, The Year the Stars Fell, which was written during the aftermath of my marriage breaking up.

By the time I reached The Quiet Rush, I felt much more confident in bringing all of these threads together—field recordings, guitar, synths, samples—into something that felt coherent but still open to drifting between genres. It feels more focused, but still true to that personal, exploratory process that started back in lockdown.

Simon Mills of Bent was a key figure in connecting you with NuNorthern Soul. How has his work influenced your own, and what do you admire about his style?

I’d been a fan of Simon’s for years, along with many of those other downtempo artists from that era, so when I saw on Instagram that he was offering mastering, I jumped at the chance. I’ve always admired his warm sound, his melodic touch, and the way he uses samples and instrumentation so cleverly. At the time I was still finding my feet with mixing and not completely confident in my own sound, but having him master My Lingering Magic was a big moment. Beyond the technical side, it also helped open the door to NuNorthern Soul, which I knew had put out some of his music, and I’m really grateful for that connection.

From the Memories in the Dust to the Balearic-disco vibe of Smoke, the album spans a wide range of styles. What were some of the key musical influences that inspired the sound of The Quiet Rush?

I tend to write every day, so I end up with a lot of music, and the tracks that came together for The Quiet Rush really did so quite naturally. It was actually a very quick record for me to write—without much overthinking—but in hindsight it definitely reflects where I was mentally at the time. I’d just been diagnosed with combined ADHD at 50, and I think the album became a way of searching for some kind of calm within the chaos of modern life.

In terms of influences, they’re always quite broad. Around that period I was listening to a lot of jazz, disco, house, folk, desert-guitar grooves, Americana—you name it. There was also a lot of Balearic-leaning music in rotation, which I think seeped in subconsciously and nudged the record in that direction. For the first time I felt genuinely confident in my own sound, rather than trying to emulate anyone else, and that’s a big shift for me. I’m always looking to push that further and create something that feels slightly off the beaten track.

What is your process for blending those two worlds of live and programmed synths? Do you start with a live riff or a synth line, or does it vary from track to track?

My process is really spontaneous and it changes from track to track. I like to start with whatever feels inspiring in the moment—it could be a beat I’ve programmed, a field recording, or a guitar riff—and just build from there. I don’t spend hours obsessing over the "perfect" kick or ironing out every detail; I actually like to leave in a bit of sloppiness or imperfection because it adds life and character. Once I’ve jammed something out in Ableton, I’ll do a quick arrangement without overthinking it too much.

The editing stage is where I tend to get caught up, and in the past mixing has been a real stumbling block—I’ve thrown away a lot of songs out of frustration. But I’ve improved a lot technically since making this record, and it’s becoming easier to get things sounding how I want them. The Quiet Rush came together quickly, and part of that was down to experimenting with new gear like Teenage Engineering’s EP-133. I always try to weave in as many live elements as possible—whether it’s guitar, percussion from my little box of shakers, or just me making noises into a mic—because that’s what gives the music its texture and human touch.

There are a number of vocal samples in the album. Can you tell us more about the source of these samples and how you go about weaving them into the tracks?

Most of the vocal and spoken-word samples I use come from digging around in strange corners of the internet—places like the Internet Archive, obscure YouTube clips, or even old '90s sample ads. I also sample myself quite a bit, then mangle the recordings through tools like Serato Sample or Cube until they become something new. I rarely sing, though I did a little on this album, and I’d like to explore that more—or maybe even work with guest vocalists on future projects.

What I enjoy most is the abstract side of spoken word—taking fragments from different sources and piecing them together to form a loose narrative or mood. It adds a human quality to the music without being too direct, almost like little voices drifting in from another world.

Where do you find inspiration for your music?

For me, making music has always been a way of calming my mind—it’s almost like a daily meditation. Most mornings before heading to my teaching job, I sit down to write as a kind of ritual, letting out whatever energy is there. If I’m going through something like heartbreak, that tends to come through pretty obviously in the music, and when I’m in a calmer place, the sound reflects that too. Lately I’ve been trying to step back a little from that obsessive morning routine, to leave space for other parts of life—like relationships—so it doesn’t consume everything.

Where I live also plays a huge role. Southbourne is a really special place, with its beaches, coastal walks, and easy access to the New Forest and the Purbecks. That environment naturally seeps into my music and lends it a laid-back feel. Beyond that, I’m constantly chasing new ideas—I like to learn, experiment, and never really stand still. I think that curiosity and restlessness are what keep my sound evolving.

Can you tell us about the creation of the track The Quiet Rush, and how it came to represent the album as a whole?

The Quiet Rush actually came about in much the same way as the other tracks—I didn’t approach it differently. What made it stand out was that it survived my usual “cull” because my girlfriend overheard the synth hook leaking out of my headphones (my studio is literally a wardrobe in my bedroom) and told me it sounded good. That was enough to make me keep it, and from there the track just seemed to fall into place very quickly—the guitars, the arrangement, everything.

I then stumbled across an old advert on the Internet Archive with a lot of spoken dialogue, and I started chopping it up and rearranging it into something that hinted at a narrative. The way the track came together—spontaneously, without too much overthinking—ended up mirroring how the whole album took shape. It all felt very natural and fast, but at the same time I think my subconscious was guiding it to where it needed to be. That’s why it felt like the right piece to represent the album as a whole.

Now that The Quiet Rush is out in the world, what are your plans for the future?

I’ve actually already finished another album, Lives We Didn’t Live, which feels like a natural progression from The Quiet Rush. I recently took my first proper break from making music in four years—a three or four week detox—and now I’m ready to dive back in with fresh energy. As always, I don’t like to overthink the process; I’ll just see where things land. That said, I’m definitely conscious of wanting to bring more guitar into the music and to explore more vocal-led tracks too.

I’m happy continuing to self-release since I write a lot, but there are also a few people interested in what I’m doing, so I’m open to seeing where those connections might go. The main thing is that I feel much more confident in my production now. I’ve learned the simple but vital lesson that “less is more,” and that shift makes me excited about what comes next—whatever form it takes.

Check out the latest release from James E Burton.