Simon Talbot has long been a kind of strange musical reference point for me. But I know for sure that I keep coming back to his work. Maybe it’s just habit, or maybe it’s something much deeper — like those songs you do not like at first, but that somehow become part of your life and start connecting themselves to specific moments and people. When I found out he was releasing his twenty-ninth album, Colours (yes, twenty-ninth — that is not a typo), my first thought was pretty basic: “Wow, when does he even have time to write all this?”

The real answer is simple and almost mundane: Simon does not crank out an album every month. Many of his releases are made up of material written and recorded long before they’re released. In the case of Colours, everything was already finished back in the winter and spring of 2021/2022. So, there is no productivity magic here — he just seems to have a small archive of future releases sitting on his hard drive.

So now I’m looking at the title Colours and trying to guess what’s inside. At first, I admit, I thought it might just be another album with a conceptual name and a couple of solid tracks — like those trendy indie artists who enjoy naming things in a way that sounds deeper than it is. But then I remembered — this is Simon Talbot. Which means that even if he takes a simple idea, he’ll unfold it in a way that includes a personal story, specific tone, layered concepts, and a whole set of nuances. I knew it would be Simon — in that familiar degree of thoughtfulness, attention to detail, and almost intimate way of telling a story through sound. And it turned out the idea this time was actually much more interesting. The album is based on a very personal and rather sweet project: Simon asked his friends and family what their favorite colors were and why those particular colors stirred strong emotions in them. Then he took their answers and turned them into ten tracks, each one sounding like that exact color. Sounds a little absurd, but that’s part of Talbot’s thing — he often walks the line between total madness and a kind of brilliant simplicity.

To be honest, this kind of concept felt like it could either hit brilliantly or fall completely flat. A music album about colors, and from Simon Talbot, no less? Huh. At first glance, it sounds unexpected. Especially considering that his previous releases were almost entirely rendered in black and white — melancholic, restrained, often carrying a sense of internal chill, a kind of emotional distance. And now suddenly — Colours. The title alone already hints at a shift in mood, and I started wondering: what lies behind this palette? Another sharp turn, or just a new form for the same depth?

I spent a while trying to understand how something as subjective as color could be expressed through music. But then I thought — do we not all associate colors with emotions and memories? Maybe every time we feel sad, there is a quiet melody playing inside us in a deep blue hue, and moments of joy sound like a sunlit yellow chorus.

It feels like Simon plucked that idea straight out of the air and, without worrying too much about whether listeners would get it, turned it into a full album. While listening, I found myself trying to guess whose favorite color was behind a specific track and what emotions Talbot was trying to convey. Sometimes I hit the mark, and sometimes I was completely thrown off. And I liked that. In the end, is that not what makes music alive and interesting — the listener’s right to uncertainty, to their own interpretation?

Don’t Overthink It — Just Feel It

I can say for sure that everyone will find something of their own in this album. For me, it was Red that grabbed me right away — a track that practically explodes with drive and groove. The guitars cut through the air, the drums pound like a heart at its peak, and everything is soaked in the vivid, untamed energy of red. And that intensity stands out even more against the contrast that follows — Purple. Here, everything slows down, dissolves into the air. The main guitar line is melancholic and almost translucent, like the last color of a sunset.

In Green, Talbot takes another unexpected turn. The track blends grungy crunch with a tight, almost art-rock rhythm, and the vocals catch you with their brightness and strange sense of freedom. The harmonies rise and fall, creating the feeling that the song wraps around you — softly, but completely, like a vine in an old garden. And then there’s Black — here everything shifts again. There is fury, coldness, and a thick echo that breaks apart in your ears. The guitars sound like scattered thoughts you cannot quite gather. And the vocals — with a hint of theatricality and light, airy endings — add just the right touch of symbolism, turning the track into something nearly mystical.

I could not skip over Pink and Orange. They feel like a pair, but each with its own atmosphere. In Pink, the melody seems to lie in wait, ready to spring. In Orange, that leap finally happens — and you find yourself in a track where complex rhythms, expanded harmonies, and Talbot’s signature vocals come together and stand out. Maybe the key is that Talbot deliberately left a lot of room for interpretation, as if inviting each listener to find themselves in these songs.

So for me, Colours came across as less of an album in the traditional sense and more of a personal conversation with myself, where music becomes just a reason to reflect, to remember, to feel. Maybe in a week I will change my mind and say this is Simon’s most brilliant release. Or, on the contrary, I might decide the concept feels a bit overloaded. I do not know. But right now, it seems to me that the strongest quality of Colours is its openness and that strange sense of freedom that comes when no one tells you exactly how to feel — they just give you space. You decide what you hear here — lightness, tension, silence, explosion, nostalgia.

And here’s another thing — Colours turned out to be much more alive than I expected. It breathes sharper, moves faster, picks up pace more easily. There is far less of the thick, heavy slowness that marked Talbot’s previous albums, and there is something tender in his voice this time. Everything feels more dynamic, even bold at times — and that really draws you in.

I am thrilled by how Simon Talbot let this project quite literally come to life in color. This is not exactly a concept album in the strict sense, but rather a reflection of how the artist himself is evolving. And seeing someone who has spent decades working in half-tones and restrained registers suddenly decide to paint his album with every shade — that feels incredibly meaningful.

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