Romy Xeno grew up in rural South Africa, surrounded by tranquil scenes of nature.
Coming of age far from the big cities, when the lights would dim all she could hear would be flora and fauna, as close to nature as she could get.
Moving to London at the age of 16, this astonishing clash of cultures fused her imagination into some intriguing shapes and colours.
A fascinating artist who dwells in extra-dimensional sound, Romy struck up a friendship with Sam Dust (LA Priest), who now acts as her producer.
Together, the pair have constructed a full album, with Romy Xeno using Xenoula as a name and pointer for her material.
Out now, it's a truly remarkable project, one that obeys no rules but its own. Here, Romy breaks down the new album for Clash...
- - -
- - -
Flying in her slip stream, up through the twister, winds spin round, collapse around the might of her wing span, and out into the sunshine, swirling we go.
Found a map with coordinates to Merilla Blue. Through lands of dying-earth in shades of grey. A space ship waits to fly seeds of hope to a new planet to grow. It’s her turning point so I’m leaving.
Not been to sleep yet, foggy brain, seeing bunnies through the shades and shapes. Early morning fog flat to the ground rising with the sun.
Floating on my back through a coral cave with mirrors in the roof. All the fish and planets move beneath me. Land up on a beach a volcano recently exploded, smell in nose high up to my cloud of love so full and brimming. Crust of a world I would save from a man’s indistinguishable craving to bring down, to slaves and diamonds, paper planes.
Dreams of prancing one with antlers, high of golden suns and echoes. A faulty claw, he escaped and ran for more, trembling the moment, a hero who had been given the chance to ride the tiny breath away, with a little boy on his back. Deep to ground with a big heart above the moon.
Why do they break their souls down, caged, grey, chained and held down. No hope for a life of green days, a family in their country. They were made to live in dark, fear of the next time they must give, to be kept alive, a life of poison to make money for the shackle keepers.
Two sisters stuck behind, under a stair case not in mind, giggle and sing when I come down but no one else is home.
Man in the moonlight, I see him only on a full moon, should I leave on a luna tide to find him or is this a trick, has my mind eclipsed.
Living over magic water. Energy at night. A grumble and a groaning ogre will bite as soon as you light a fire for music and sing with a wolf. Out late you hear them wishing as they skim stones across bubbles of the waves breaking, ion silver shores so bright.
- - -
- - -
'Xenoula' is out now.
Join us on Vero, as we get under the skin of global cultural happenings. Follow Clash Magazine as we skip merrily between clubs, concerts, interviews and photo shoots. Get backstage sneak peeks and a true view into our world as the fun and games unfold.