Hadley Roe’s music suspends the listener in a delicate stasis. Within its softly breathing electronic corridors, life slowly unfolds, reshapes, and drifts into new forms. On her new album The Inner Garden for Past Inside the Present, intimate details blossom into exultant melodies that stretch toward a disappearing horizon. It’s music made for quiet, inward moments. Roe draws from the spirit of her rural surroundings—its beauty and solitude—to craft an immersive sonic world. Swelling synths cradle fragile chord progressions, embodying the quiet strength and vulnerability at the music’s core. It feels small, magical, and momentous all at once.
The Inner Garden is out now on Past Inside the Present.
Foxy Digitalis depends on our awesome readers to keep things rolling. Pledge your support today via our Patreon or subscribe to The Jewel Garden. You can also make a one-time donation via Ko-fi.
I always like starting at the very beginning. I’d love to hear about some of your earliest memories of music and sound – are there certain things that stand out to you as memorable or formative from when you were younger? What are some of your first memories related to music?
I think my very earliest memories of hearing music were snippets of 80s & 90s radio hits drifting out of my parent’s tinny car speakers, while I was completely zoned out in the back as a child. I remember getting the ”chills” during certain moments of certain songs, and thinking to myself that it’s got to be one of the most powerful skills on earth to be able to write music that has that effect on people…
Later on in my youth, I had some really pivotal/memorable moments that would go on to shape my relationship with music for the rest of my life, such as the first time I heard Harold Budd’s ‘Agua’, and the first time I listened to Boards of Canada while I was high when all the weirdness in their music started making a strange sense to me…
The Inner Garden is described as a deeply personal and healing work. What was the creative process like for you? Did you find that composing the album helped you process unresolved emotions?
Regarding the creative process – for me, it usually begins with a simple drone or a couple of drones layered over each other. If I find myself getting immersed in the atmosphere of it – I’ll start adding some more melodic elements and focusing on the movement and flow of the piece. Somewhere along the way, the music tends to conjure up memories and thoughts and feelings about a certain subject matter, which in this case happened to be of a deeply personal nature.
I have a rare crippling mental illness which affects everything I do. I’ve done terrible things to people, and people have done terrible things to me, and nothing I ever do will resolve the deep-seated trauma that I have to live with every day… but composing this album definitely helped me process and make sense of some of the complicated emotions attached to it.
After finishing the album and sending it off to Cynthia (Past Inside The Present), I was bedridden for a few days with exhaustion and fatigue… so maybe I managed to exorcise something during the creative process, or I just simply overworked myself to the point of total collapse, who knows… Making music is undoubtedly cathartic for me, but it also stresses me out and takes a pretty toll on my health – mentally, physically, and emotionally.
You’ve spoken about struggling to write in a conventional verse/chorus structure. How did you arrive at ambient music as your primary mode of expression?
Well, I grew up listening to mostly pop-structured / vocal-driven music, so naturally, I tried to write ”songs”… but I never liked my own lyrics, and felt stifled by the constructs of the whole songwriting process. I’ve been a fan of ambient/drone music for some years now, but it was only fairly recently (when I became sick) that I attempted to create my own. I found that by creating these ambient soundscapes – I was able to completely lose myself within the sound, and be transported to a better place where I could forget my own troubles for a while…
It was a tremendous relief (and totally liberating) to realize that I didn’t need words to express myself and that all the various tones, textures, and frequencies contained within abstract ambient music made me feel calmer and more relaxed…
Your music captures a wide spectrum of emotions—melancholy, bliss, shadow, and comfort. Do you consciously aim for these contrasts, or do they emerge naturally as you compose?
I do believe that varying contrasts (dynamically, emotionally, stylistically, etc…) are very important in music, but I can’t say that I consciously aim for them. I mostly become aware of the contrasts that exist within my music towards the tail end of the recording process, when I’m at the stage of mixing the tracks and sequencing them into a nice dreamy flow…
Your work is deeply tied to memory, trauma, and healing. Do you view your music as a form of therapy, and do you hope it serves that role for listeners as well?
My music is definitely a form of therapy for me – the act of creating it as much as the end result. I honestly don’t think about a listener (specifically or hypothetically) while I create at all. Prior to this latest album, I never intended to publish my music at all or let anyone hear it. I created it purely to soundtrack my own meditations, and to help alleviate my own anxiety and pain.
When I did eventually publish my debut album, I was shocked (and still am shocked) to hear from various people around the world who reached out to tell me how both my music and my personal story really resonated with them, which is so lovely to hear. Whilst I try not to think about how my work is going to be perceived while creating it, I suppose I do have a certain hope (consciously or unconsciously) that someone out there will ”get it”.
Your use of field recordings grounds the album in nature. How does the natural world influence your sonic choices?
The natural world has a huge influence on the overall sound of my work. In my previous album (‘All That’s Left’) I used field recordings in a more subtle, textural type of way… I would transform field recordings (nature or otherwise) into layers of soft, ambiguous, ambient noise that swirled around in the background, but in this album (‘The Inner Garden’) I decided to leave them in a more raw and organic state…
I try to spend as much time as possible out in nature – walking or just sitting around and meditating. I can spend hours on end staring at flowers, cloud formations, and various bodies of water… but unfortunately, the dreary weather and harsh climate here in the UK quite often prohibits me from being outdoors in nature as much as I’d like…
Getting back to your question – I don’t really spend much time analyzing how nature affects my work, it just does… Maybe it’s something to do with the flow and movements that exist within it, and the cyclical nature of things. It’s so calming and mesmerizing when you find a quiet spot, and just close your eyes and listen…
“I Just Want to Get Better” and “Tears Had to Fall” have particularly evocative titles (to name a couple specific tracks!) How do you decide on your song titles, and do they reflect specific moments in your life?
Thank you. I just tend to title tracks after something I’m thinking or feeling during the process of creating them. Some of the titles are very personal and specific, whilst others are pretty vague. I grew up in a family that never expressed themselves, so I’ve never been good at talking about my feelings or communicating… but making music helps me to convey some of the things I really want to express, and my song titles are a part of that.
Your past album covers also evoke hazy, symbolic imagery. How do you see the relationship between your music and visual storytelling?
I’ve always been a fan of abstract visual art – in all mediums. I would really struggle to find (or create) a single image that tells you exactly what an album of mine is about, and what to expect from it, but I think I have a certain eye for images that connect to the ”feel” of my work, in a vague and ambiguous kind of way. Most of my past artwork choices have come to me almost by accident, as if they were just floating past and I happened to pluck them out of the air and use them. I don’t know if that makes any sense, but generally speaking – I love images that have a strong sense of atmosphere to them, yet remain abstract and impressionistic.
Are there any new directions or projects you’re excited to explore next?
I can’t make any future plans, due to my mental condition – I can only take things one day at a time. It’s the only way I’ll survive this… but I do have hopes and dreams. I’ve been chipping away at a couple of new albums, but it’s too early to say whether they’re any good at this point. I also did a short collaboration track with one of my favorite ambient artists, which is scheduled for release sometime this Autumn, I believe.
When I find myself inspired and excited to create new music – I tend to work pretty fast and efficiently and can churn out something decent in just one recording session, but when things aren’t going well – I struggle to even lift my head up, or look at a musical instrument. So yeah, it’s difficult for me to plan anything these days. I definitely hope to release more music though!
And, as always, to close – what are some of your favorite sounds in the world?
Drones – musical and non-musical, water trickling over rocks, soft breezes, rustling grass, ocean sounds, and empty room tones.
Foxy Digitalis depends on our awesome readers to keep things rolling. Pledge your support today via our Patreon or subscribe to The Jewel Garden. You can also make a one-time donation via Ko-fi.
