Mark William Lewis

Live music

Saturday 26 September · 22:00

Mark William Lewis creates soundscapes that evoke the past and present of pop, indie, and ambient, yet sound new and relevant. His short, simple, direct songs create an open dialogue with the listener, blending soft jazz, DIY Steely Dan sophistication, and the lost romance of Lewis Baloue.

There is something perverse in creating soundscapes that recall countless things, whether from the past or present of pop, indie, or ambient, and yet sound new, but new as a relevant experience. That has been Mark William Lewis's existence, an existence made public a few years ago, who built a name on the streets of London and, worldwide, accumulated millions of streams of his music. There is something relatable in the atmosphere he creates, perhaps because his songs—short, simple, exemplarily direct—tell us something particular about emotions. For songs that close under such a cloudy mantle, it is fascinating how Mark William Lewis manages to create such an open dialogue with the listener. His demons are ours, his ride toward an alleged redemption is relatable to what one feels when listening to his music. It helps to have the ease of soft jazz, the sophistication of a DIY Steely Dan, or the lost romance of a Lewis Baloue. Put this in line with the pop musings of Dean Blunt, Mica Levi, Coby Sey, and there is something assertive about Mark William Lewis existing at this moment. Returning to the perverse side, if it is something we already know, why do we fall in love so easily with his songs? Why, playing without secrets, can they exist in suspension, as if they made us believe that a hyper-personal journey—we think, or we perceive when hearing what he sings—could be something universal? At a time when there are no more well-kept secrets, Mark William Lewis, despite his millions of streams, still sounds like a well-kept secret. It shouldn't be; his songs deserved to be out there on the streets, haunting and consoling our problems. Because they serve both situations. They are songs that make us believe that, one day, the world will still be too small for them, even if they remain, or make it seem, that thing of a well-kept secret. Whatever happens, it's good that Mark William Lewis fits in our aquarium. Seemingly not, but that way there is more space for his music to enter our hearts. AS.