An emerging force in the nu-jazz and UK soul landscape, MADELEINE is a singer, songwriter, and producer whose sound bridges progressive electronics and classic songcraft—drawing from the worlds of Flying Lotus and Kiefer while carrying the melodic warmth of writers like Lianne La Havas and Stevie Wonder. Backed by support from BBC Radio 2, Jazz FM, and Wordplay, she’s also built a formidable reputation as a sought-after session musician, touring internationally as a keyboardist for artists including Olivia Dean, Nubiyan Twist, and Rachel Chinouriri. We caught up with MADELEINE to talk about the evolution of her artistry, the realities of life on the road, and the ideas shaping her current chapter—most notably her album Earth Cry.
Thank you for agreeing to speak with Occhi Magazine. You’ve built a career as a keyboard player for artists like Olivia Dean, Jorja Smith, and Rachel Chinouriri—what did those rooms teach you about restraint, groove, and serving the song, and what did you have to unlearn to fully step into MADELEINE as the main character?
It’s been amazing working with these artists, and I’ve really learnt so much. With a lot of these projects you’ve mentioned, really holding down the grooves and nailing the part is key to making the show, and I absolutely love that! Every element really has its place within the arrangements. One of the biggest takeaways for me has actually been seeing how much people truly back themselves and believe in their own artistry – it’s taken me some time to really step into my own and feel confident with it. So if anything, I’ve had to re-learn being myself and having the confidence to believe in my artistry, because sometimes the shift from being more in the background can be kind of crazy! I’m really loving using my voice again and having the full creative freedom to express myself.
You describe your sound as intergalactic, dystopian soul. When did you first realise that was your true sonic language—and what personal or cultural moment pushed you toward that world rather than a more “traditional” soul path?
I grew up on a lot of more traditional soul, jazz, and classical, which has been fundamental to my playing. But I really started to expand my horizons when I first discovered Brainfeeder. Wow, that honestly blew my mind. First hearing music from Flying Lotus’ ‘Cosmogramma’ in 2010, was crazy. I’ll also never forget hearing Burial for the first time; it was such a spiritual and otherworldly experience for me. And then honestly, Hiatus Kaiyote, their writing and sound choices, and more hip-hop-leaning artists like J-Dilla, Erykah Badu! I mean, the list goes on, but this era of musical discovery was beyond exciting for me and really opened my eyes to pushing the boundaries.
I’d say it was more of a personal moment that pushed me towards that world, mostly just starting to realise this kind of music existed, and the feeling of pure joy it gave me. That kind of burning fire of excitement you get in the pit of your stomach. A real enlightening moment for me was when I started writing the first song I ever released as MADELEINE, which was ‘Can I Feel Enough’. I started producing it in the lockdown in my bedroom, and I just knew that was the kind of direction I wanted to go in.
Earth Cry is positioned as a cry for consciousness and care—for the planet and for people. What was the first lyric, image, or headline that made you think: “I have to make a project that speaks to this”?
I think the title-track really shaped the direction of this project for me. This song is talking about the outcomes of global warming that we’ve started seeing in our daily lives. Oceans rising, forests burning, it’s all images we’ve started seeing with our eyes. Earth Cry is a direct warning to save the planet. The lyrics in this track really speak about these issues, and it’s a call to repair the damage before it’s too late: “Can we learn to abandon our selfish hate? Repair all of the damage with tides of grace. She’s screaming for her ocean; we cannot waste it” [Earth Cry].
During the writing process, I was playing with loads of spacey, synth sounds, and the ideas of ‘Earth Cry’ really started to come into the light. I started to imagine that this song was really like a warning to us humans, but from this galactic, dystopian realm. To save the planet, before it’s too late.
You’ve said this EP picks up from 2023’s Sun Daughter. What’s the emotional or philosophical bridge between the two projects—what did Sun Daughter ask, and what does Earth Cry answer (or refuse to answer)?
I love the idea that Sun Daughter is this beautiful, warm opening into a world, through the EP itself [and slightly rough around the edges as that project was very DIY]. Earth Cry feels like it comes from Sun Daughter, but it reaches much further into a world I was only just discovering before, both sonically and lyrically. While I was making Earth Cry, it was incredibly visual for me, and I kept imagining these colder, blue tones, and making this a reality in the artwork was crazy.
In some ways, it’s almost like an A and a B side, and the B side is like a darker, more in-depth, galactic deep-dive into the world of MADELEINE. Earth Cry explores similar sonic worlds, but everything feels more carefully crafted, and I’ve been able to spend more time on this project too. I think I’ve been able to be more honest and direct in my lyrics too, and it’s felt really special to spend more time in this creative space. It’s where I’m happiest!
You self-produced, wrote, and arranged Earth Cry, with additional production/mixing from Lewis Moody and Will Heaton. What parts did you insist on owning completely—and where did you deliberately invite outside hands to challenge your instincts?
Normally, the compositions & arrangements are crafted by me through the production, before I get someone else involved for the mixing process. The additional production is really the final sprinkles on top, to push it even further to completion, sometimes as little as adding a shaker here, or a delay trail there. I’ll always sit in with mixing engineers, and I try to make it collaborative, which is fun. I also want people to have space to do their thing too, so I try to encourage their creativity from them too. The mixing process is crucial for me – where all the elements sit in the mix can really affect the way a song is perceived, and it’s a really big part of my process in getting the songs over the line.
Of course, another important part to mention is bringing in live musicians, who really help me realise the ideas and bring the music to life. Earth Cry, the title track, was mostly produced in my bedroom, and it was a demo when I went to the studio with my trio – the only layers we recorded at the studio were the drums, and some additional chordal bass guitar parts, but predominantly this track is bass synth, which I played. The rest was all recorded at home. But the process is always different – Don’t Lose Yourself was mostly a live studio recording, instrumental-wise. We tracked the drums, bass guitar, and Wurli together in the studio, and I then went and produced the track, adding all the synth & vocal layers in later, either at home or in my bedroom. It’s a mixture of DIY and studio recordings. Keeping the playing live, from myself and other musicians, really helps to highlight human instinct at the forefront.
The EP balances organic textures with an electronic, London cityscape interpretation. In production terms, what counts as “organic” to you—instrument choice, performance imperfections, field recordings, harmonic language—and how do you stop the electronic elements from sterilising the emotion?
More traditional-leaning instruments, like a Wurli, a live drum, and the human voice, feel more organic to me. Leaning more into the synth/galactic hemisphere and using more futuristic sounds, or more dubby production techniques feels more electronic and left-leaning. But I’ll always have at least one of these more organic sound palettes at the base of the production, and build everything else around it. Also, nothing is every too crazy processed, so the emotion played in each part really has space to shine through. Every part you hear is played live, so the emotion can never be lost.
On ‘Meet My Soul In The Water’, you collaborate with harpist Marysia Osu. Why harp—what does it unlock emotionally that synths or keys can’t? And how did you make sure the harp didn’t become “pretty decoration” but a real narrative voice in the track?
The harp has such depth to the sound; of course it has REAL strings, which have never found their way into my music before, and there’s something so incredibly moving about hearing the harp played (especially by Marysia Osu). This track actually went through so many different versions and was a real labour of love, because I just felt like something was missing. One day I realised there was this higher frequency space that felt a little empty, and my wonderful friend Marysia Osu came to mind.
We chose to keep the harp quite dry, as there were already so many synths and effects on the vocals, and it brought the track together instantly. It was so beautiful working together, I was holding back tears all the way through the session because all there’s something so powerful about real-stringed instruments.
You describe the song as a wandering dream state. What specific production decisions created that sensation—tempo, swing, reverb space, sound design, harmonic ambiguity—and what did you remove to let the dream breathe?
The way the harmony moves through itself feels dream-like to me. It’s sort of chromatic at times, but also very functional and grounding, and there are moments where you’re not certain where it’s going to land, and then it just lands and opens up for the first time at the Chorus. The Wurli part is where this track all started, which is super melodic, and it kind of feels like ripping water. There’s also quite a lot of spacey, synth sounds that we used to really lean into this feeling of a dream-world. We layered the live drums with electronic drums to feel more warm and low-endy, and I just really spent time crafting the sounds to fit around the vocals.
You shared that the chorus has a dual meaning: total devotion (“take the air from my lungs…”) and letting go (the flow of water). How do you write lyrics that hold contradiction without collapsing into vagueness—what’s your method for keeping the meaning sharp?
I really love the idea that the music is open to interpretation – we all hear music in our own way. Sometimes I even look at my music and notice something different, depending on what kind of day I’m having or things I might be going through.
The music feeds into us in different ways. If anything, I think this song is really about someone who’s completely entwined with someone else, and they give them absolutely everything, their entire being, to this person. But then at the end of the chorus, there’s this release; maybe they’re able to have some clarity; maybe giving themselves completely to someone isn’t what they want, and they realise they need to find the idea of being whole on their own. Also, leaning into the idea of flowing water, you truly can’t define the flow state of this.
We simply move between, over, and through each other, like souls passing in the night. This song is really about souls meeting in an otherworldly place.
You’ve said your lyrics often blur the line between your personal life and the world around you— nature, politics, the dream world. When you’re writing, how do you know when a lyric is honest symbolism versus you hiding behind metaphor?
I love drawing upon images and metaphors as a vessel/writing tool, because I’m super visual in my mind and really see images and colours when I’m writing songs. There’s something extremely therapeutic about it for me, and often the blurring of different experiences in my life find their way into my music. I guess you can’t know for sure, but that’s the beauty of it.
Your influences span Flying Lotus, James Blake, Salami Rose Joe Louis alongside Ego Ella May and Sampha. When you’re producing, what are the “non-negotiables” you take from those worlds— rhythm, low-end design, vocal intimacy, harmony—and what do you consciously avoid to keep your sound from becoming referential?
Honestly, I would say the harmony is where most of my writing starts, and it’s deeply rooted in my love for chords. This is, in some way, the most ‘non-negotiable’ for me, and it really directs the movement of the songwriting, as well as rooting it in that more future-soul space. It’s a mixture of how much I’ve absolutely rinsed artists like Marvin Gaye and Stevie Wonder, with more left-field Brainfeeder influences like Salami Rose Joe Louis. But who’s to say how much these influences manifest? I’d hope my own personal style is most prominent in my music. Most importantly, I really try and keep everything as instinctual as I can. I definitely don’t like to overthink the musical choices I make, because sometimes the first thing you come up with is the best. I honestly go with what I think sounds good and make sure it’s something that I can really feel.
With support from Jazz FM, BBC Radio 1/Introducing, The Line of Best Fit, Jazz re:freshed, plus festivals like SXSW (2025) and the upcoming Brick Lane Jazz Festival, We Out Here, Shambala—what does growth look like for you now? Is it bigger stages, deeper experimentation, sharper messaging—or a new risk you haven’t taken yet on record?
Growth is so many things to me – if you imagine each person is like a tree, and each branch represents a different part of ourselves. For my music, I’d love to reach more people who really connect with it and can honestly just enjoy it in their own way. I’m feeling so blessed & excited to be performing at We Out Here this year, on the Saturday on the Big Top Stage, and also Shambala on the Friday at The Next Stage! An absolute dream of mine to bring my music to these festivals. Something I’m extremely excited to start pouring myself into is more writing and continuing to push myself and be even more intentional in my writing.
Follow the artist via the links below:
Listen to Earth Cry here
MADELEINE photos by Ginger Dope
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