Start Listening To: Memory Of Jane

Memory Of Jane’s debut album finds light in the dark.

South East London-based artist Maïlé, who records as Memory Of Jane, makes music that drifts between dream and reality, light and shadow. His debut album Unsinking The Cypress expands on the promise of his earlier work, blending electronic textures, jazz roots, and pop experimentation into a deeply personal yet expansive statement. Written in the wake of creative blocks and mental health struggles, the record captures a renewed sense of playfulness and freedom without losing its emotional weight. We spoke with Maïlé about collaboration, symbolism, and why duality has always been at the heart of his music.

For those unfamiliar with your music, can you tell us who you are, where you’re from and about the music you make?

My name is Maïlé, I’m 23 and based in South East London. I grew up mostly in the French countryside, which is where my passion for music began. I have been writing songs from a very young age and over time my sound has evolved a lot, though it still carries many of my early influences. I would describe what I make as atmospheric and emotionally textured, blending electronic, ambient, jazz, indie, and experimental pop.

Unsinking The Cypress feels both deeply personal and conceptually rich. At what point did you know this was going to be more than just a collection of songs?

I had been building up a large folder of demos for a while after my first EP “In The Double”. One of the tracks on that EP, “So Pacific”, came from my very first session with Oli Bayston in his East London studio. There was such a natural synergy between us that we decided to collaborate on my debut album. Oli really helped turn this project into something more than a collection of demos. Together we honed in on a sound that felt playful yet emotionally deep, which really brought the concept to life.

The album draws from a wide mix of influences, from Aphex Twin to Radiohead to The xx. How did you balance those inspirations with your own musical identity?

Honestly, one of the hardest things for me has always been connecting my music to that of artists I admire. When I write, I never base it on something I’ve heard but rather on what I want to hear. I understand that for outside ears it’s easier to find comparisons, and naturally I end up using sounds that are familiar to me. But I think comparing myself to artists like Aphex Twin or Radiohead feels like a stretch. While there may be similarities, I doubt either of them would hear much of themselves in my work. My process always leads me somewhere unique, and I’m never listening to other music while I’m writing. I just let ideas flow freely.

You’ve said this record is about rekindling joy and freedom. How did you hold onto that playfulness while working through heavier subject matter?

A recurring theme since my debut EP has been the idea of opposites: light and darkness, sleep and wakefulness, and so on. My music naturally reflects that, sometimes dark and melancholic, other times light and playful. Every concept comes from the sounds themselves rather than from a plan I set in advance. I also find it interesting that I often write more playful lyrics over melancholic songs, and darker lyrics over playful ones. That contrast happens naturally and feels like two sides battling and supporting each other at once. In some ways it is a good metaphor for my life.

Much of the album was made in close collaboration with Oli Bayston and Harvey Grant. What did they bring to the process that changed the way you work?

Working with Oli was an incredible experience that really made the demos feel fresh and connected. Both Oli and Harvey are extremely talented musicians, not just in playing instruments but in composition too. Collaborating with them was deeply inspiring and helped shape these songs in a big way.

Your trip to Costa Rica clearly had a big impact on you and the album’s title. Can you describe that moment with the Cypress trees and why it resonated so strongly?

Yes, I spent two months in Costa Rica in the summer of 2023, but for me it was more about re-centring myself after a very difficult year of mental health struggles and creative block. Being surrounded by rainforest and wildlife helped me remember there is more to life, and more importantly, it rekindled my inspiration. As for the title, I was drawn to the symbolism of Cypress trees. Growing up in France I remember long drives past rows of them, always perfectly aligned, and I found them fascinating. In Greek mythology they represent both death and longevity. To me, imagining a Cypress tree emerging from water and escaping the underworld felt very connected to what I had been going through personally.

The record moves between night and day, light and dark, dream and reality. Was that duality a conscious choice from the start, or did it reveal itself as you worked?

I think that duality revealed itself over time. Songwriting and producing is my therapy, and I work on something new every day. It often feels like sleepwalking, as if my dreams are becoming real or my darkness is becoming light. There are always two sides to my music, and framing it as duality has simply been the easiest way for me to put that into words.

You come from a background in jazz and filmmaking. How do those disciplines shape the way you structure and visualise your music?

Jazz taught me how to improvise, trust my instincts, and play with other musicians. It also gave me a sense of composing and arranging without limits, which will always be part of my music. Filmmaking has also been a big passion since I was young, whether it was making stop-motion videos about a clay blob living underground or creating skits with my friends. I’ve always had a visual mind, and even though music eventually took over, I still imagine visuals and stories alongside the sounds I create, even if they do not always make it into reality.

The title track is your most expressive vocal performance yet. What was going through your mind when you recorded it?

To be honest, I’m not really sure. My lyrics and vocal melodies usually just float over the instrumental, and things happen quite naturally. I could have been thinking about anything, even something mundane like whether I left the oven on. Once the song was finished though, its meaning became very clear and tied in with the theme of the record, which is why it became the title track.

There’s a strong undercurrent of optimism running through the record, even in its more melancholic moments. Was that a conscious act of defiance against darker feelings?

For me it is definitely optimistic because I’ve always been an optimistic person. Although the album comes from a dark time in my life, it is about breaking free and turning the page. I don’t see it as defiance against darker feelings but rather an acceptance of them and an understanding of how they can help me grow.

You mentioned wanting to be revered by your peers. Who are some contemporary artists you look to for inspiration or feel a kinship with?

It is not so much about being revered. I think what music needs today, in a time when so much is changing and anyone can pick up an instrument and write songs, is to really learn from each other and strive to create something unique. What inspires me most now is collaboration and hearing music that feels not necessarily modern, but new and raw. I hope my music can give people that same feeling of hearing something they haven’t experienced before. Some artists I’ve been listening to recently are Chanel Beads, Nourished By Time, Baby Rose, Tirzah, and Alex G.

What do you love right now?

Travelling, long walks, writing, drawing, coffee, fried plantain, oysters, drinking Guinness, playing Catan, and the obvious one, music.

What do you hate right now?

Oof. Fascism and apathy, especially the numbness that comes when everything feels overwhelming. People stop caring, stop resisting. I hate the normalization of cruelty and the pressure to keep smiling through it. Also algorithms. And bad coffee.

Name an album you’re still listening to from when you were younger and why it’s still important to you?

This is a tricky one to answer because there are so many, but right now I would say Kate Bush’s “The Hounds of Love” or Stevie Wonder’s “Innervisions”. Both are incredible records I have loved for years and still return to when I want a taste of those sweet nostalgic juices.

Looking ahead, what do you hope people carry with them after spending time in the world of Unsinking The Cypress?

I hope people enjoy it while it exists, because I cannot promise the next project will be anything like it. I also want listeners to connect with it in their own way, without treating my words as the definitive meaning. I love when people find their own interpretations, and I hope the album inspires other artists in their own work. More than anything, I want people to expect the unexpected and leave feeling excited about what comes next.