There are some heartbreaks that linger long after the person who caused them has disappeared. For award-winning Americana/Folk-Pop singer-songwriter Randie O’Neil, that feeling became the inspiration behind her latest release, “Ghost of Me”, a haunting song about loss, loneliness and finding your way back to the part of yourself that can feel lost when someone walks away. Released today alongside its atmospheric new music video, the track finds Randie exploring the darker side of emotional abandonment while still holding on to the resilience that has become such a defining part of her songwriting.
The video was filmed at dusk in New Hope, Pennsylvania, a town with its own reputation for ghost stories, making it the perfect setting for a song about being haunted by someone who is no longer there. Walking through the fading light and shadows, Randie captures the searching quality of the song, while the visual echoes the emotional journey at its heart.
Randie has never been afraid to explore the experiences that shape us. Here, she talks about the personal story behind “Ghost of Me”, creating the video without her usual team, filming at dusk in one of Pennsylvania’s most atmospheric towns, and turning an experience of rejection and hurt into something hauntingly beautiful.
Tell us the story of this track. Why did you choose to visualise it specifically in this way?
I was literally ghosted on my birthday. I felt so empty and lost. You think you found someone, take that chance and they just can’t give it back.
What was the inspiration behind this new video (visuals, storyline, etc.)?
I just wanted it to be haunting, searching so we waited until dusk in New Hope PA (a truly haunted town).
What was the process of making the video?
I didn’t have my usual team so I took a chance and they were great. Two videos in one day. This was the end of the day dusk shot. Tried to emote as I walked. “Shadows know your name” is an angry line that he will get what’s coming.
There is something really infectious about a song that simply wants to make you feel good. With “Happiness Looks Good on You,” George Collins set out to do exactly that, deliberately stepping away from the more reflective and introspective territory that has characterised much of his songwriting to create a joyful, celebratory track steeped in vintage soul and Gospel influences.
Inspired by childhood memories of watching Soul Train, as well as a lifelong admiration for The Staple Singers, the song channels the warmth, optimism and irresistible spirit of classic soul. The accompanying video takes that nostalgia a step further, taking inspiration from Billy Joel’s wonderfully retro “Tell Her About It” and imagining Collins performing with a vintage soul band on a 1960’s television show.
Created in collaboration with visual artist Marta Vorontsova, the video brings together Collins’ love of classic music, his playful sense of humour and a distinctly old-school visual aesthetic. We caught up with George to talk about the inspiration behind “Happiness Looks Good on You,” the making of the video, his love of vintage soul and the process of bringing the two together.
Tell us the story of this track. Why did you choose to visualize it specifically in this way?
As I was reviewing my catalog and planning my latest album “New Ways of Getting Old,” I realized that many of my songs are reflective and introspective and that I had very few “happy” songs. This was surprising to me, as I am generally an upbeat and happy person! So I intentionally set out to write a happy song. From the outset, I knew that I wanted it to be a celebratory song with a vintage soul vibe and a Gospel choir. I used to watch the TV show “Soul Train” when I was young, and I loved the Staple Singers – I thought Pops Staples was the coolest old dude in the world! I listened to their music continuously while I was writing and recording “Happiness Looks Good on you.”
What was the inspiration behind this new video (visuals, storyline, etc.)?
I am a huge fan of Billy Joel, and he, like me, is also a huge fan of vintage music – as evidenced by his wonderful retro album, “An Innocent Man.” He has a video of a track from that album, “Tell Her About It,” in which he plays a singer backed by a soul band performing on The Ed Sullivan Show in the 1960s. I love that song and the video, and I wanted to do something similar for my song.
What was the process of making the video?
I have been working with an amazing visual artist, Marta Vorontsova, for several years – she has created many of my lyric videos, and her work is absolutely first rate. (https://www.instagram.com/_imagikali_/) So I sent her the track and my basic ideas and she got to work creating the video. It was an iterative, interactive process, and after a lot of back and forth we ended up with a video we could both be proud of – and that I sincerely hope my audience will enjoy!
There is something to be said for music that doesn’t immediately tell you what it is. In a world of genre tags, carefully curated aesthetics and songs apparently designed to make perfect sense within the first fifteen seconds, it is rather nice to encounter an album that seems perfectly happy to wander off and see what happens. No map or flashing neon sign saying this is the important bit, just a collection of ideas allowed to develop at their own pace. And that, in a nutshell, is rather what The Free States are doing on Love & Death.
The project of American songwriter Shaun Lyons, now based in Athens, Greece, The Free States has always been difficult to squeeze into one particular musical box, and frankly, why would you want to? There are traces of rock, soul, alternative music, experimental rhythms and a healthy appreciation of melody, but attempting to reduce all of that to a convenient label would miss the point. Lyons is interested in songs first.
“Definite” is a particularly good example. Built around the wonderfully human problem of being indecisive at a crucial moment in a relationship, it moves in 7/4, which is not generally the time signature one reaches for when trying to make uncertainty sound comfortable. But it works. There is an ease here that makes the unusual rhythm feel natural, while the song itself manages to be thoughtful.
Then there is the opening track “Most of All,” apparently born at three in the morning while Lyons’s electric guitar was lying beside him with the amplifier still switched on. Which is probably proof that sometimes the best songwriting advice is simply to leave the equipment where it is and see what happens. The song has a lovely sense of longing running through it, while strings, a refrain and a guitar solo give it a little more space and help distinguish Love & Death from the more guitar driven album that came before it.
Elsewhere, “Man the Baddies” brings considerably more muscle to the proceedings. What began around thoughts of war, friends being conscripted and the complicated question of what it actually means to move forward. It is energetic, rhythmically unusual and probably the heaviest thing The Free States have recorded, but there is no neatly packaged political statement waiting at the end of it. Lyons is more interested in the uncomfortable business of making decisions, which is rather more interesting than having the songwriter hand you a conclusion and ask you to tick a box.
Lyons has talked about songwriting as something that needs to happen before consciousness starts getting in the way, and there is freedom in that approach.
There is a similar freedom in the way the album was made. Recorded largely in Athens, with drums captured in several different rooms and vocals recorded together in another, Love & Death is clearly more interested in capturing a good performance than in constructing some immaculate sonic monument. Lyons makes much of the music himself, working with trusted collaborators when required, and there is something appealingly old fashioned about that. You have an idea, you make the record, you listen to it and you decide whether it works. Revolutionary stuff apparently.
Love & Death is an album that can groove, can rock and it can become rhythmically peculiar, it can pull back and allow a melody to carry the weight and it can occassionally make you wonder where on earth Lyons is taking you before realising that you rather like the journey. The Free States have remembered that the scenic route is where the interesting stuff happens.
There is a particular kind of magic in music that sounds familiar as well as entirely its own. Winchester 7 & The Runners understands that balance instinctively, drawing on the energy of garage rock, the melodic instincts of classic songwriting and the sun soaked spirit of surf music, while placing the unlikely sound of an electric tenor ukulele right at the centre of it all.
This is a project that is playful without being lightweight, carefully crafted without losing its sense of spontaneity and firmly rooted in the belief that a great song should still be able to cut through the noise.
We caught up with Winchester 7 & The Runners for this exclusive interview to talk about the creative thinking behind the project, the making of the music video and the inspiration behind “The World From My Bed”, and what lies ahead for the band.
Watch the Official Music Video here:
1. Tell us the story of this track. Why did you choose to visualize it specifically in this way?
The song started innocently enough. My family was talking about how much of current events my teen daughter learns about on Tiktok and its often dubious accuracy. I thought how much of a change that represents to our communications and how, generally, weak people’s innate critical reasoning can be. So, I started writing from a perspective of a “it was this, now it’s that” sort of thing.
But, that sort of song starts to sound like cranky old man shouting at clouds pretty quickly whereas I was more interested in the contrast than suggesting that one was better than another. I don’t know if you’ve heard this, but older news media has made its share mistakes of too – like how Dungeons & Dragons is deadly or that time when Martians invaded.
Anyway, with all of that in mind, I latched onto the idea that rotting in bed is also, these days, not the same isolated thing it once was. And there I had the title with a bridge written from an imagined perspective of my daughter’s.
So, we set out to shoot a video that borrowed some of those themes in a time travelly sort of way.
2. What was the inspiration behind this new video (visuals, storyline, etc.)?
Something you may not have picked up on is that the trunk on the album cover for our EP No Worse For Wear which is also shown in the video – as an aside, that’s the actual trunk that my great grandfather brought over with him from Northern Italy when he immigrated to the US – was previously seen in a video for our song “The Golden Age”. One in the back catalogue.
Anyway, in that one, Jack opened the trunk and got out a device that he used to time travel back to the ’50s to visit my grandparents on a vacation of theirs to what appears to be Atlantic City, in an effort to escape COVID lockdown. Hey, it was a nice thought!
In reality, we were all stuck together for the bulk of it as travel restrictions happened right after we all got together to record. So, at the end of “Waitin’ Here For You”, Jack finds his time machine again, after rummaging his way through the thing, and we all get a bit of a surprise. The video for “The World From My Bed” picks up from there with me (Win) shown stuck on a bed in some sort of time pocket with some surreal stuff happening just outside the window that I mostly ignore.
3. What was the process of making the video?
I wanted to create a video that built upon the prior video release for our song, “Waitin’ Here For You”. We shot the album cover while filming that video in the same session. We sat on the couch for some stills and then started to do our thing as the song played in a continuous shot.
“The World From My Bed” was shot right after that to keep some continuity.
The World is literally seen from my bed outside that time window, as I rot away with my uke, phone, and a good book. We then added some footage of feature vocalist Airinna Namara, who sings the bridge, in said window and got our video!
Keep up with Winchester 7 & The Runners on the Website
There is something inherently appealing about a band that refuses to take the obvious route. Winchester 7 & The Runners could have returned to the familiar territory of conventional guitars, familiar arrangements and familiar indie rock formulas. But instead, they put an electric tenor ukulele at the centre of the operation and built an entire musical identity around it.
On No Worse For Wear, that decision feels less like a gimmick and more like a statement of intent.
Across the EP, Winchester 7 & The Runners draw freely from sixties rock, surf, garage, classic pop and the more melodic side of alternative and indie rock. Yet the record is not an exercise in retro imitation. There is too much contemporary thinking in the songwriting, and too much personality in the performances for that. The result is music that can sound of the past in one moment and then distinctly of the moment the next.
Listen here:
Opening with Waitin’ Here For You, the band immediately establish their credentials. The drums have that wonderfully physical quality that makes you imagine the song being played in a crowded room rather than assembled entirely inside a computer. Guitars rise around the vocal, harmonies add colour, and the melody has enough lift to make the track feel instantly accessible. But beneath the upbeat exterior is one of the record’s recurring ideas: connection.
That’s where No Worse For Wear becomes more interesting than a straightforward indie rock EP. These songs are concerned with what it means to be human in an increasingly mediated world. Social media, algorithms, artificial intelligence and the changing economics of music all sit somewhere in the background, but Winchester 7 rarely approaches them directly enough to become preachy. Instead, they become the scenery surrounding the characters in the songs.
The World From My Bed is perhaps the clearest example. Its premise is immediately recognisable – that we have access to more information than any generation before us, yet somehow the simplest experiences can feel further away. The song’s invitation to step outside and watch the sunset feels almost radical in its simplicity. Musically, the track swings along with an infectious indie rock looseness, while Airinna Namara’s contribution adds another layer to an already engaging arrangement. It’s one of those songs that makes its point without appearing to be making a point at all.
Elsewhere, I’m Goin’ Down explores the more vulnerable side of the record. The darker vocal tone and grittier guitar textures create a sense of uncertainty, but the song’s melodic centre refuses to give in completely. There is still light in it, and that balance between struggle and hope runs throughout the EP.
Then comes Ballad of the Bishop of Eastwood, one of the record’s most intriguing pieces. Built around a dramatic stomp and an old-school rock groove, it has the atmosphere of a story being told after midnight. The vocals remain comparatively restrained against larger guitar textures, creating an unusual tension between intimacy and scale. It is a reminder that Winchester 7 & The Runners aren’t simply interested in writing catchy songs. They are interested in characters, scenes and little worlds.
The Talk takes that instinct in a more playful direction. Stop start rhythms, cheeky vocals and a particularly memorable hook give the track a loose rock’n’roll energy. It feels spontaneous without being careless, and the arrangement allows the personality of the project to come right to the front. Then 10 Easy Steps turns the volume up again.
Here, the band’s influences seem to collide in particularly satisfying fashion. There are echoes of sixties rock alongside the swagger of early 2000’s indie, while the electric ukulele gives everything a characteristically Winchester 7 twist. It has the kind of riff-driven momentum that makes it easy to imagine becoming a live favourite.
By contrast, The Way You Moved brings the EP towards a more reflective conclusion. With Jenny Conlee of The Decemberists contributing keyboards and Guy Page of Coach Party handling drums and mixing, the song introduces a softer, more atmospheric side to the project. There is some distortion and gentle psychedelic textures surrounding a surprisingly intimate performance. It is perhaps the moment where the emotional heart of No Worse For Wear becomes most apparent.
For all its references to technology and contemporary culture, this isn’t really an album about machines. It is an album about people trying to remain connected while surrounded by machines. And this distinction matters.
Winchester 7 & The Runners aren’t attempting to position themselves outside the modern world. Their use of livestreams, digital distribution, visual media and even the AI-powered Continuum Relay demonstrates precisely the opposite. They are embracing the tools available to independent musicians while asking what those tools should ultimately be used for. The answer seems simple: communication.
And that’s what makes No Worse For Wear such an appealing indie record. It has hooks without becoming disposable, ideas without becoming academic, and nostalgia without becoming trapped in the past. Most importantly, it has a recognisable personality. The electric tenor ukulele may be the unusual headline, but it isn’t the real story. The real story is songwriting.
Winchester 7 & The Runners understand that however dramatically the music industry changes, however sophisticated the technology becomes, and however many algorithms stand between an artist and an audience, a good song still has the ability to make somebody stop, listen and feel something. No Worse For Wear is a record built around that belief. And perhaps that’s why, beneath all the noise of the modern world, it sounds remarkably human.
Connect with Winchester 7 & The Runners on their Website
Some of the most important moments in a person’s life happen before anyone knows what they will become. A child displays an unusual gift, someone takes notice and a single act of encouragement can alter the course of a life. For John William “Blind” Boone, one of America’s great musical pioneers, that moment came when a former Confederate general recognised something extraordinary in a young boy and decided he deserved the opportunity to develop it.
“School for the Blind,” the third single from Kansas City composer and jazz organist Ken Lovern’sBlind Boone the Musical, tells that remarkable chapter in Boone’s story. Set in post Civil War Missouri, the song explores Francis Cockrell’s efforts to persuade the people of Warrensburg to help nine-year-old Boone travel to St. Louis to study music at the Missouri School for the Blind.
The accompanying video brings that history into the present, combining artwork from the project’s companion graphic novel with archival photographs, historical imagery and footage of the musicians recording the song.
We caught up with Ken to talk about the remarkable relationship between Cockrell and Boone, the importance of showing the community that helped nurture the young musician’s talent, and the creative process behind bringing this pivotal chapter of Blind Boone the Musical to life on screen.
Tell us the story of this track. Why did you choose to visualize it specifically in this way?
In the song “School for the Blind,” former Confederate General Francis Cockrell is convincing the town of Warrensburg, Missouri to help young John Boone attend the Missouri State School for the Blind in St. Louis.
After the Civil War, Blind Boone’s mother, Rachel Boone, finds employment in the home of Francis Cockrell. Cockrell is immediately taken with young John Boone. Boone is a cheerful, charming, and enchanting child, and he imitates bird calls and other sounds he hears. Boone plays the tin whistle and forms a musical group with the other neighborhood children. He is a very talented child with a lot of potential.
Cockrell becomes a champion for Boone, and arranges for Boone to attend the Missouri School for the Blind in St. Louis where Boone can study music. Cockrell convinces the town elders to help him finance the education and the train fare to St. Louis. In the fall of 1872, nine-year-old Boone travels alone 225 miles to St. Louis. While Boone only attended this school for a few semesters, this time was instrumental in developing his ability to play piano. Francis Cockrell was correct when he realized that Boone had talents that deserved cultivating, and he convinced an entire town to help.
What was the inspiration behind this new video (visuals, storyline, etc.)?
I wanted to show the musicians creating the music for this track, and I also wanted to tell the story of the town of Warrensburg supporting young John Boone.
What was the process of making the video?
I used images from the Blind Boone the Musical comic book and historical images to help tell the story. I was particular interested in trying to explain Francis Cockrell’s motivation in helping this child of a former enslaved person.
I used video images captured during the recording of the track to show the musicians. My intent was to weave the musician images with the historical images and comic book art to convey the captivating story of Blind Boone.
Keep up with Ken Lovern andBlind Boone the Musicalhere.
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