There is something perverse about creating soundscapes that remind us of so many things, whether from the past or the present, from pop, indie or ambient, and yet still sound new, but new as a relevant experience. This has been the existence of Mark William Lewis, an existence made public a few years ago, who has made a name for himself on the streets of London and, around the world, has accumulated millions of streams of his music. There is something relatable about the atmosphere he creates, perhaps because his songs are short, simple, and exemplarily direct, telling us something particular about emotions.
For songs that close themselves off under such a cloudy blanket, it’s fascinating how Mark William Lewis manages to create such an open dialogue with the listener. His demons are ours, his ride towards supposed redemption is relatable to what you feel when listening to his music. It helps to have the ease of soft jazz, the sophistication of a DIY Steely Dan, or the lost romance of a Lewis Baloue. Put this in line with the pop ramblings of Dean Blunt, Mica Levi, Coby Sey, and there is something assertive about Mark William Lewis existing right now.
Returning to the perverse side of things, if it’s something we already know, why do we fall so easily in love with his songs? Why, playing with no secrets, do they manage to exist in suspension, as if they make us believe that a hyper-personal journey—or so we think, or so we understand when we listen to what he sings—could be something universal? At a time when there are no more well-kept secrets, Mark William Lewis, despite his millions of streams, still sounds like a well-kept secret. It shouldn’t be that way; his songs deserve to be out there on the streets, haunting and comforting our problems. Because they serve both purposes. They are songs that make us believe that, one day, the world will still be too small for them, even if they remain, or reveal, that well-kept secret. Whatever happens, it’s a good thing that Mark William Lewis fits in our fishbowl. It may not seem like it, but that way there’s more room for his music to enter our hearts. AS

Ashley Plomer is a Singer-Songwriter, Producer & Performer from the UK. He writes with guitars, piano, woodwind and percussion.
After emerging from Sheffield’s experimental DIY scene, he relocated to South-East London where he has been making idiosyncratic, existential pop music since 2023. He writes about the everyday fabric of his life; his experiences working in schools, factories and supermarkets; the anti-mould paint on his walls; the hacked Lime bikes, lost woodpeckers and building sites that circle his house. His songs draw inspiration from Emo, Progressive Metal, Soundscape and the long-form television operas of Robert Ashley.
He digitally self-released his debut singles ‘Tankfull’ and ‘Shame 2’ in 2024.