Much in the same way the onset of COVID invited a year-plus onslaught of highly intimate and unprecedentedly personal records by artists cobbling together songs from over-email collaborations, the past year or so has seen a major influx in music inspired by a joyous return to in-person community—even if the lyrics continue to dwell on personal subject matter. In fact, in|FLUX happens to be the title of the second album from London-based songwriter Anna B Savage, a project built upon an unconventional sort of collaboration—in addition, of course, to her actual, in-depth work with producer Mike Lindsay. “in|FLUX has a lot of people I love woven into its fabric,” she shares of the new album, which arrives tomorrow via City Slang Records. “Love songs for friends, old lovers, old loves.”
Lindsay’s contribution to in|FLUX, for example, extends to his work with the longstanding folktronica outfit Tunng, an influential group for Savage during her formative years before she was recently reintroduced to his work as one half of Lump alongside Laura Marling. While the playful melodies and unpredictable turns of Good Arrows can be heard from the skittering beat drop on the lead single and title track of in|FLUX onward, Savage infers that their personal working relationship is equally—if not more so—responsible for shaping the record.
With this in mind, the playlist she created for us is less a list of influences on the sonic directions the album took and more a look at how Savage’s personal relationships with these artists inspired her to pursue her own sound. “I wanted to make a playlist with songs written and made by people I love, and who helped to create—however tenuously—this album,” she adds. Check it out below, and steam in|FLUX when it drops tomorrow here.
Lump, “Animal”
Simon [Morley] suggested I make my second record with Mike [Lindsay], one half of Lump. I loved Lump’s first record, and this song from the second messed me up—the newest output of Mike’s that I listened to and loved before we started working together. It’s got such a warmth, such a vibe, such a charm to it.
Tunng, “Hands”
I used to listen to this album when I was a teenager. [The line] “It’s OK, we’re all going to end up dead and gone” felt particularly pertinent, a great maxim whilst I was going through whatever huge (read: tiny) heartbreak. I also loved how this dude always sang with his real, spoken accent. I struggled with the American-izing of different British accents—always have. Turns out, it was Mike! It feels very strange to think of teenage me sitting in my room having Limewired all the Tunng albums, feeling like a music career was a million miles away, not knowing what was coming in the future.
Wicketkeeper, “I Can’t Believe”
The lead singer of Wicketkeeper is Simon, who works for the label I’m on, and who introduced me to Mike. This album would not exist if it weren’t for him (and I probs wouldn’t have a career, either). This song is an absolute banger—makes me feel like perhaps I’m 15 again and my heart is beating desperately fast as I’m smashing my way around a show with myriad people I fancy, feeling like the possibilities are endless (even though the song is about feeling aged. Perfect). I love Simon so much, as a friend, colleague, and career steerer.
DM Stith, “Sawtooth”
My original producer, my original musical obsession, my OG music dad (or older brother?). David Stith’s first album Heavy Ghost felt like it spoke to all the disparate parts of me: the classical musicians’ child, the empath, the over-thinker, the over-feeler, the close harmonizer. And then this album came out, and I realized there was a huge part of me that was missing: the fun, the cheek, the dance, the desperate, the want to crank the song right up, turn the lights right down, and dance with absolute abandon. I realized that making one album which sounds like one thing doesn’t mean you can’t make…whatever you want next time around. I love David and I marvel at the breadth of his output. Perfect, all of it.
The Golden Dregs, “Before We Fell From Grace”
Is it weird to want to literally run a bath of Ben’s voice and just…sit in it? Anyway, this song is incredibly gorgeous and I feel like the instrumentation and production on this make Ben’s voice even more delicious than normal. Ben and I met many, many moons ago in Manchester. Both in other bands, both hesitant about being at the front and putting ourselves out there (though perhaps I was marginally less hesitant, lil’ double Leo that I am).
I knew I always wanted to work with Ben. When Mike and I had almost finished this record, knowing that the only thing we wanted to dub was drums, I thought it was time to chat with Ben. He heard my first album when it was just demos—one of only three people to hear it in that form. By that I mean I trust him. And I have for a long time. He came to Margate and was perfect—playing and vibe-wise. As I had expected. It was such a joy to get him involved with making this album, and it has been such a joy to watch his career just absolutely soar.
Genevieve Dawson, “Mountain”
Gen plays synth, piano, guitar, and sings in my band. She is an absolutely unbelievable musician. Is this in 9/4? Who knows! I certainly don’t, but it’s a bloody vibe. I had this melody in my head for about eight months after first hearing this, and long may it linger. This song meanders, whispers in your ear, and rubs your neck all at the same time.
Meadow Meadow, “Bonzo”
Pete (one half of Meadow Meadow) plays bass in the newest iteration of the band (previously having played the guitar, and the SPD in an amazing way). I absolutely love this song—it makes me feel the way Pete makes me feel: sunny, warm, and like it’s gonna be a bloody nice time whatever happens together. “My friend said, ‘What do you want when you grow up?’ / I said, ‘I got everything that I need.’” Is there anything more pure?
Pete and I also, during the first lockdown, did a little song-a-day challenge, which ended up being mined heavily for this album. He was integral to this album getting made—he told me I had to go back and listen to them, as there was some goodness in them. Turns out he was right.
Spring Offensive, “Not Drowning but Waving”
I’ve picked a random Spring Offensive song here from the latter days of their being because my manager Chris joined the band a few years after their formation. Chris has allowed me to be an artist, a creative—not a manager—and that is the best gift ever. He’s diligent, detailed, forward-thinking, and incredibly kind. It must be another kind of terror to be a manager and see your artist weeping about how they don’t know if they’ll be able to continue their career. And it takes a special kind of person to only listen, not try and convince you that everything will be fine, and just sit with you as you cry. I am incredibly thankful for Chris. And for our work together.
William Doyle, “And Everything Changed (But I Feel Alright)”
Will produced my first album and also wrote this song—what a genius. I love this song. It felt so different to his previous work to me. I also love that I think of this line every time I go to turn the lights off. I saw him play this on his own in the Moth Club. He did the whole show on his own and genuinely sounded as good as he does on the record. It was a total feat and made me realize both what is possible but also only what’s possible when you’re an unfathomably good musician. I learnt so much from making my first album with Will. I learnt about collaboration, about how much hard work goes into making an album, about how generous he is with his knowledge—and also how bloody good he is.
Jonathan Kawchuk, “,look at this distractor”
Jon is too smart for his own good. One of the people I fell in love with in Canada, and one of the recipients of the couple of love songs I wrote for this special bunch. Not all are musicians, so you won’t get to meet them all here…and, actually, I can’t even introduce you to all the musicians, as there’s too many for this playlist, but Jon and I have a very special friendship. Jon is diligent in his work, and his maintenance of friendships—he has a seemingly infinite capacity for time for me and other people he loves. He also makes the most mind-bending music and art I’ve ever known. Recording, sometimes field recording, playing his music in landscapes that inspire it and then recording it back with the Earth as a collaborator.
He was doing Dolby Atmos mixing before the world even knew what it was. As such, when I wanted to get this album mixed in Atmos, he was the only person I wanted to do the job. Him and his creative partner Justin did such a delicate, gorgeous retelling of this album. Mike and my manager Chris and I went to listen, and it blew our minds.
Marivon, “The Ancestral Howl”
OK, I know I’ve said that about eight of these other people are the best musicians I know, but hey, Jillian is actually it. She’s the one. Jillian was one of my first and strongest loves in Canada. She’s a ray of sunshine, of quiet determination and skill. She seems to me to be entirely fearless, whilst also being open with her vulnerabilities. Another person who showed me extensive generosity and who has inspired the way I live now. Her joy playing her instrument is palpable and made me realize quite how important it is to remember the joy in practicing.
Tambour, “Orion (Mythologies)”
Yet another Canadian love. Simon plays the most gorgeous, delicate, and expansive music, is an expert piano player, and a wonderful pal. He’s such a warm person who is also just incredibly silly (which, obviously, is 100 percent my vibe). Also, watching him and Sean’s friendship is one of my favorite things. I heard him playing Philip Glass on the piano a couple days into our residency and spent the next three weeks giving myself back ache practicing piano polyrhythms.
Sean Curtis Patrick, “Simon & Anna”
A like for a like, eh. Sean was another person I fell in love with in Canada. He taught me about modular synths, about William Basinski, about my OP-1, about Petoskey stones, about generosity, about generosity in friendships, about how to do a really, really good Secret Santa. I’ve never known someone to do so much, so expertly.
I was telling him I wanted to do more book cover designs as a practice, so he set us a task: we had to make up a book title, author, and blurb, give it to the other person, and then we made a book cover for that fictional book. Not only did he make his with about 80,000 Photoshop layers, he also printed it out and wrapped it around a real book for our presentation. That’s wild. He makes incredibly beautiful abstract art. He does pottery. He’s won an Emmy, for fuck’s sake, for a documentary he made about Greenland. He made a music video for a band I loved called Cloud, Castle, Lake. He makes album covers (he made the artwork for the Tambour track). Now he lives in the PNW with his rockstar partner and their rockstar cats and is living the dream.
Matthew Stevens, “Our Reunion”
Matt was one of our tutors in the Canadian residency, and holy wow he is the nicest man on the planet. I also trusted him from the offset, having hidden my work from everyone else from fear, and I ended up playing Matt “A Common Turn” after about 20 minutes of talking. He was so immensely kind about them all, boosting my confidence enough to make me go home and tell Will [Doyle] that I would give him all my savings to make an album with me. He gave me work during the COVID lockdowns, and we’ve worked on a few different things together. Working up toward that full-length! Fingers crossed we get to do that soon.
I know I talk a lot about the Canadian residency, but I don’t think I would be a professional musician now were it not for that specific time, with that specific group of people. I would not have had the confidence to put the first album down, wouldn’t have had the confidence to trust myself that the second would come.
Flyte, “Little White Lies”
Will from Flyte was my other song-a-day pal. He has such an ease with songwriting (to be honest it was quite annoying how good he is and how easy he seemed to find it) and also such a good way of gently teasing the work ethic out of me that we ended up doing a good couple of weeks of songs a day before burning out.
This song absolutely fucks me up. It makes my eyeballs fizz and my heart jump to my throat when the bridge comes in. I have excellent memories of also playing it on full pelt and dancing around the kitchen to it during the first few weeks of lockdown.
