Gavin Greeneway

Back in the Golden Age of the Hollywood epic, composer Miklós Rózsa lavished much scholarly research on his scores for Quo Vadis (1951), Ben-Hur (1959), El Cid (1961) and others, gracing those movies with music that had as its wellspring authentic (or at least authentic-sounding) melodies from the period. For Ridley Scott's revival of the Roman epic, Gladiator, Hans Zimmer eschews such learned academia in favour of his own more contemporary, wall-of-sound approach (honed to perfection on movies like Tony Scott's Crimson Tide). In truth, no one is quite sure what Roman music sounded like, and Zimmer's unscholarly rock music background is temperamentally better suited to Scott's all-action movie anyway.

It’s impossible not to become infatuated with soulful pop princess Gavin Turek. The LA Native is always clad in a hand-made 70s fringe dress (designed herself in every color) and armed with the best dance moves you’ve ever seen. It’s easy to draw comparisons anywhere from Tina Turner to Beyoncé but really, Gavin is her own force to be reckoned with. Performing always came natural: she grew up with a father who played piano and tagging alongside her mother, who toured coffeeshops singing gospel. Her origin story goes like this: at age three, a teeny tiny Gavin interrupted her mother mid performance, took over the mic and to the astonishment of the audience, finished the song for her. She knew every single lyric, word for word, and whoa, that girl could sing. Suffice to say, a star was born.

Katie Gavin’s debut What A Relief taps into the unguarded self-possession and homespun pop sensibility of singers like Alanis Morissette, Fiona Apple and Ani DiFranco, and uses their tenacity as a north star for Gavin’s own trek towards self-discovery. “This record spans a lot of my life – it’s about having a really deep desire for connection, but also encountering all the obstacles that stood in my way to be able to achieve that, patterns of isolation or even boredom with the real work of love” they say.

Gavin James Already on his way to becoming one of 2015’s international crossover-stories, Gavin James is a 22-year-old artist who grew up in a Dublin suburb. The son of a postman, music was arguably in Gavin’s blood: his maternal great-grandparents were both famous Irish Opera singers. James began playing guitar at age eight. After years of playing Jimi Hendrix and Led Zeppelin covers in the garden shed, he joined a band while in his teens and, upon drawing the short straw, was drafted as its singer.

Katie Gavin’s debut What A Relief taps into the unguarded self-possession and homespun pop sensibility of singers like Alanis Morissette, Fiona Apple and Ani DiFranco, and uses their tenacity as a north star for Gavin’s own trek towards self-discovery. “This record spans a lot of my life – it’s about having a really deep desire for connection, but also encountering all the obstacles that stood in my way to be able to achieve that, patterns of isolation or even boredom with the real work of love” they say.

Gavin Friday's much-awaited new album, Ecce Homo, his first in over thirteen years, is being released via BMG. It is a work that heralds a fuller, more sonorous form of expression for this ever-evolving artist, one that transcends the prescribed conventions of genre, breaks new ground and brooks no compromise. Where loss, filial grief, remorse and existential disquiet were the more conspicuous tenets of Friday's 2011 release, Catholic, the presiding spirit of Ecce Homo is altogether freer, less shackled, and sovereign - indomitable, too.

Gavin Friday's much-awaited new album, Ecce Homo, his first in over thirteen years, is being released via BMG. It is a work that heralds a fuller, more sonorous form of expression for this ever-evolving artist, one that transcends the prescribed conventions of genre, breaks new ground and brooks no compromise. Where loss, filial grief, remorse and existential disquiet were the more conspicuous tenets of Friday's 2011 release, Catholic, the presiding spirit of Ecce Homo is altogether freer, less shackled, and sovereign - indomitable, too.

Music often casts love as a game of absolutes: Heartbreak is the end of the world, and evil exes are obstacles to be overcome, rather than people to look directly in the eye. Life’s not really like that, though, and it’s rare that a songwriter truly tries to sift through the gray areas of quotidian romance in search of meaning.

Music often casts love as a game of absolutes: Heartbreak is the end of the world, and evil exes are obstacles to be overcome, rather than people to look directly in the eye. Life’s not really like that, though, and it’s rare that a songwriter truly tries to sift through the gray areas of quotidian romance in search of meaning.