By Ed Harrington

I have been paying close attention to the turbulence of testing times, attempting to decipher our place between the material and the digital world. My debut album, Spark Adaptation, released in early 2025, opened itself as an evolving diary of desire and wonder, harbouring desperate darkness alongside torrenting electropop energy. The singles Supernatural Lovers and Found Souls and Lost Gods, released ahead of the album, seemed to summarise its day-and-night idiosyncrasy. From dinosaurs flying through space and colliding with supernovas to heartbeats held against mazes of mirrors, the album created the space I needed to propel my explorations.

My second single from the album, Loved One, was accompanied by my poem Stuff, released under my alias Seismic Nought. Both the song and the poem explore the turmoil of an identity crisis linked to societal pressures: the feeling of not being accepted for who you truly are by the forces and anxieties around and within you.

The poem states: “Stuff is what saves us – but stuff bumps and slumps around waiting for its bus, dress-stressing in its own looks/love – knowing and not.” The central message of both the song and poem is an encouragement to break through these struggles regardless: to state your virtue boldly and recognise that you are loved. As the song says: “We want to be free from form, and so do the ones we want. When they tell you you can’t belong, tell them you are a loved one…”

This synchronicity between poetry and music drove me to focus more deeply on poetic form as an intrinsic creative outlet. Inspired by world events and human suffering, I began challenging what I saw as complacency in the face of global horrors unfolding in our ultra-connected lives, particularly the ongoing devastation in Palestine.

Through Seismic Nought, I began creating a new body of poetry, including The Child Meat Crawlers, which was a direct response to what I perceived as the destruction of lived-in areas and the killing of children during the early stages of Israel’s military campaign in Gaza. Later, I wrote The Missile Finds the Child, exploring what I see as the disturbing distance between modern warfare and human empathy. The poem reflects my view that the use of advanced technologies, including AI-assisted military systems, highlights how removed many of us have become from the realities faced by people caught in conflict, while governments continue to make decisions shaped by geopolitical interests.

I also responded to the UK government’s decision to designate the protest group Palestine Action as a terrorist organisation. In my view, this decision highlighted contradictions around Britain’s role and responsibility in relation to the conflict in Palestine. My poem A Smile That Postered Peace addresses those involved, attempting to appeal to their humanity while reflecting on what I see as the consequences of political choices and inaction.

These feelings of disappointment and the need for action eventually manifested themselves musically in my single Prisons, accompanied by my satirically surreal, AI-assisted collage Cruisader, which provided the artwork. Earlier this year, I also released the three-track EP Comfort Bullet, which travels through a sequence of emotions — from dystopian bewilderment to strange synergy, then revolutionary inspiration. The opening and title track, Comfort Bullet, navigates like a ghost through a clownish colonial-capitalist abyss, with flashes of light emerging through the chaos. At its centre, I found what I see as a state of mutual protective lobotomy — a shared acceptance of systems that can disconnect us from our own instincts, identities, and compassion.

The chant at the end of the song transitions into the inner voice of a lone voyager in a magical galactic realm through the track Asta/Astra. Here, the traveller recounts a journey of discovery through the guise of a mystical, time- and space-shifting being, exploring a liberating relationship with this entity and the vast openings for reflection found within the cave pools and crevices of distant planets.

The final track, Atrium, turns its attention towards present-day apathy, exploring what I believe are the dangers of indifference in the face of an ultra-capitalist endgame. The song reflects my concern that our current circumstances can cause us to lose connection with our sense of identity, and that without resistance we risk becoming passive participants in systems shaped by the interests of the super-wealthy and powerful.

The song’s crescendo urges listeners to break away from systems that attempt to control or define them, and instead to embrace their own authenticity, creativity, and individuality.

Excited to be releasing new music again, I am preparing the release of my new single Unicorn Stallions. Continuing my exploration of the supernatural, the song takes a wide-eyed approach to observation and transformation, aiming to contribute to a growing feeling of emancipation — one that I see as being environmental, societal, and spiritual in its entirety.

Through Cosmic Gloss and Seismic Nought, I continue exploring the space between sound, poetry, technology, and the human experience: searching for new ways to understand where we are, where we are going, and what it means to remain authentic within an ever-changing world.

The Jewish Museum Cancels Two Jewish Artists Descended from Holocaust Survivors for Supporting Palestinians

Sponsored content. The World Art News (WAN) is not liable for the content of this publication. All statements and views expressed herein are opinions only. Act at your own risk. No part of this publication may be reproduced without written permission. © The World Art News