Lynney Williamson - 'LYNNEY'

There’s something quietly magical about an artist who can turn a small, everyday space into a universe of sound. And with her self-titled EP, Glasgow’s Lynney Williamson does exactly that; transforming the humble surroundings of her home recording nook into a glowing, synth-soaked dreamscape.

From the opening moments, it’s clear this is a project built on affection for a particular era of shimmering keys, dramatic melodies, and unapologetic emotionality. But rather than simply recreating the past, she filters those formative influences through her own lens. The result is a collection of songs that feel both retro-tinted and undeniably personal.

'I See You' bursts forward with infectious 80s energy, all bright hooks and buoyant momentum. There’s a playful, almost cinematic quality to it, like the opening credits of a coming-of-age film soundtracked by pulsing electronics and wide-eyed optimism. Myke Amor’s touch on production, paired with Fumez’s mix, ensures the track sparkles without losing its heart.

As the EP unfolds, the tone deepens. 'Lost' drifts into more yearning territory, its atmosphere tinged with late-night longing. There’s a romantic tension woven through the arrangement, giving it a sense of searching that leaves a lasting impression. Then 'Running Out of Time' leans into more dramatic storytelling, conjuring images of fantasy and urgency. And by the time 'Midnight Drive' arrives, the mood has shifted fully into after-dark introspection: conjuring headlights cutting through silence, city lights flickering past, with the music as companion.

With Evolution steering much of the production, the EP evolves in tone as it progresses, beginning with bright pop immediacy and gradually sliding into something moodier and more sensuous. It’s a subtle coming-of-age arc played out across four tracks.

If this EP is, as Williamson suggests, a reflection of her personality, then it’s one painted in vivid colours. 'LYNNEY' is an introduction to an artist unafraid to blend nostalgia with vulnerability, and who proves that sometimes the most expansive sounds are born in the smallest rooms.