Back in April, Pete Lawrie Winfield returned with his first new single as Until the Ribbon Breaks in half a decade, marking a new era for the art-pop musician defined by positive changes in his personal life. “I’ve never written from a place of love,” he shared of the Lucius-featuring “Everything Else but Rain” upon its release. “I always gave myself an out by creating these dystopian, ‘isn’t it all fucked?’ observations.”
As of this week there have been two follow-up (and equally collaborative) tracks which match this upbeat, glass-at-least-half-full perspective, with the grounded alt-R&B jam “Nature Mother” dropping yesterday. Paired this time with songwriter Emoni Wilkins, the single prods through themes of humanity and our connection to our celestial home over soulful keys and crashing ride cymbal.
It’s no wonder, then, that for Winfield, a perfect day in his adopted hometown of LA feels largely defined by exploring all the wonders—both natural and man-made—of the city and finding new ways to capture its essence both in his music and through photography. You can hear the new single below, and read on for words and photos provided by Winfield detailing his perfect day in LA.
As a kid, I used to find it really frustrating that my friends could wake up late—especially later when “shaking off a heavy one.” Luckily these days, I really value that time. Los Angeles has such beautiful light bookending the days, and after almost eight years here, I’m still so amazed at how cinematic and mysterious this city feels first thing in the morning. Photography has been such an amazing meditative tool for me over the years. I can really lose myself trying to capture something in a new way.
So at the crack of dawn, after a very strong black coffee, I often grab my trusty Fuji and let my uniquely scruffy pitbull Huxley lead the way. He’s a rescue, a nightmare, and truly my best friend. My neck of the woods, Silverlake, has so many hidden staircases, hills, and winding roads that we never seem to walk the same route twice.
When I return, caffeinated and hopefully with a few new pictures, it’s time to feed the animals. I’m lucky enough to live in a strange little cabin/treehouse where it often feels that I live more in the mountains than in a major metropolitan city. At some point earlier this year I started to get daily morning visits from an incredibly friendly squirrel. Mr. Crisps has since become a regular part of the family and now has no issue asking for food and eating it from my hand.
Sometimes I feel like more of a handyman than a musician or filmmaker. Without fail, on any given day, some piece of equipment, an instrument, drum machine, or camera always needs fixing or modifying. I love this time and actually get a little excited when something breaks on me. I grew up watching my dad and both grandfathers fixing things with their hands in the garden whilst listening to music. Lately my soundtrack for these (sometimes long) tasks has been audiobooks—it’s been a really amazing way for me to reconnect with reading.
On this day it was two jobs in the garden: finishing the build of a live performance space and re-finishing/customizing a vintage Akai sampler using spray paint. The book keeping me company was Going Zero by Anthony McCarten. Black Mirror meets Blade Runner—so far a great tech thriller. Very apt for our current times!
I like to change my creative space as much as possible and let the environment lead the ideas as much as possible. Music is my first love, and I’m constantly looking for new sounds, new ways to manipulate them, new ways to think about how they all fit together. The synth museum in Highland Park is such an inspiring place to get lost in. I’ve never been a technical producer, I prefer to press things until something magical happens—happy accidents, if you will. I can't imagine a better way to spend an afternoon than surrounded by the analog goodness at the synth museum. They even let you bring your laptop and record the mess you make.
To round out the day, it’s time to walk the pup at the second magic hour of the day, camera in tow. LA turns into a classic LA noir at night. It just comes alive, and there’s always a story in the photographs. I never get tired of that red sky at sundown or the headlights downtown. I’ve been experimenting with long exposures lately, and it's a great way to learn patience and teach Huxley how to sit and wait!
