Emmeline is navigating her own sonic aesthetic as a lyrical polymath, fierce experimentalist and storyteller. Having grown up in a small village in West Yorkshire alongside her father, a poet and playwright, and her mother, who works in radio drama, she has always been fascinated by the power of words.
At the age of 17, she begun entering spoken word competitions unbeknown to her family and friends, and soon won a national slam. Studying English at university, she met aspiring producers and beat-makers at parties and began to layer her lyrics over Soundcloud beats, experimenting by rewriting the words of her favourite songs, and soon amassed a block of demos.
By November 2021, she clocked Fraser T. Smith, long-time collaborator and producer to Kano, Stormzy, Dave and Ghetts, at a gig, introduced herself, and asked whether he had any advice for the music industry. Fraser liked what he heard and arranged a meeting with Emmeline and his manager the following day, where they exchanged their creative influences, process and people they were inspired by. He sent Emmeline a beat, and she responded with lyrics within a matter of days.
Since then, Emmeline and Fraser have created music together at a breakneck pace, levelling up each other's limitations at every turn. Emmeline’s sophomore EP ‘Small-Town Girls and Soft Summer Nights’ is out now on 70Hz Recordings.
I’m not the same
We don’t share the same fate
I’m electric, caught in ribbons
Blinded by the grace of inspiration
And when that feeling hits
It’s all my skin and bone, pushing at the fingertips
That’s what she’d say
The prophet that I’m not
To voice the generation with the ego of the gods
Draped in parchment, and ink, magnesium and zinc
Vitamins and strung-out things to say
Pallid clear the sky tonight, I’m writing up the stars
Containing several strands of thought of how I’d talk to Mars
In my sleep, instead of simply counting sheep
I’d be running up the walls of the dream
WhenI was 17, and the lights began to fade
I thought it frankly cinematic, the colours I would grade
In the film they’d make of me, where I’d play myself
Beautifully, lucidly, dutifully
Honourin the hand, and honour at the heart
I wrote this one to let you know I’m blessed to play the part
That the timing’s always right, light’s always aligned
Close your eyes with me and watch yourself unwind
I’m not the same
We don’t share the same fate
I’m electric, caught in ribbons
Blinded by the grace of inspiration
And when that feeling hits
It’s all my skin and bone, pushing at the fingertips
That’s what she’d say
The prophet that I’m not
To voice the generation with the ego of the gods
Draped in parchment, and ink, magnesium and zinc
Vitamins and strung-out things to say
Pallid clear the sky tonight, I’m writing up the stars
Containing several strands of thought of how I’d talk to Mars
In my sleep, instead of simply counting sheep
I’d be running up the walls of the dream
WhenI was 17, and the lights began to fade
I thought it frankly cinematic, the colours I would grade
In the film they’d make of me, where I’d play myself
Beautifully, lucidly, dutifully
Prom night
Silk satin and bad Latin two-step
Lips on the porch with the school rep
Degrassi generation paint the sunset,
That’s what your son gets
Tatted on his left cheek
Sad cause his mother is a neat freak
A brush and a bruise and a cheat sheet
How’s the view from the back in the cheap seats?
Dressing to impress in a corset
Cause her mother said her waist could afford it
Her mother told her straight to report it
Slip into remission with a forfeit
A pretty little fool with a two-tone ring
Something ain’t right when the lemonade stings
But she wouldn’t wanna leave, in case her song gets played
It’s the colour of recluse on your mood ring
It’s how the waist takes place when you’re moving
And it’s just the kinda night where you do things
It’s the staring at the wall without a window
It’s the half price man playing Ringo
It’s the fucking and the fighting in the lingo
Date night, pink patterns and boys on the way
Get her back for nine so they’re already late
Dad meets boy with a fist to the face
So there’s a black eye tatted on his left cheek
Which is sad ‘cause his mother is a neat freak, repeat me
Annie isn’t okay till she’s had her midweek
And she dressed to impress in a five-foot train
Cause the boy on her arm was a Trip Fontaine
Runaway bride on a midnight plane
They’ll be coming on right with the same last name
Dressed to impress, five-foot train
Boy on her arm, Trip Fontaine
Runaway bride
She’s just a pretty little fool with a two-tone ring
Something ain’t right when the lemonade stings
But she wouldn’t wanna leave, incase her song gets played
It’s the colour of recluse on your mood ring
It’s how the waist takes place when you’re moving
And it’s just the kinda night where you do things
It’s the staring at the wall without a window
It’s the half price man playing Ringo
It’s the fucking and the fighting in the lingo
It’s the colour of recluse on your mood ring
It’s how the waist takes place when you’re moving
And it’s just the kinda night where you do things
It’s the staring at the wall without a window
It’s the half price man playing Ringo
It’s the fucking and the fighting in the lingo
Prom night
Silk satin and bad Latin two-step
Lips on the porch with the school rep
Degrassi generation paint the sunset,
That’s what your son gets
Tatted on his left cheek
Sad cause his mother is a neat freak
A brush and a bruise and a cheat sheet
How’s the view from the back in the cheap seats?
Emmeline:
It was a very good year for village girls, in sea green tights
When I built up that sequence right
Donned my actors cap, and bowed, to captains at the back
I’m here with a crown of flora and fauna
Born in disorder to West California
A golden girl in silver robes, with sceptre held to save the stone
They said play me the role you were born to play
What did they tell you of life, that Midsummer day?
The furies depend on your mightiest rage
Your time will be made when you take to the stage
It’s the comedy of tragedies, the error of our ways
Play it up to play it down and play it back again
Enter left to take a right and back around to take the night
Then straight on till morning,
I’m Peter Pan it’s like…
Golden lads and girls all must
Like chimney sweepers come to dust
Folk who grace the silver stage
With dying arms can never age
And music men with ballads bright
Are given wings with every night
And I with cheeks that softly blush
Like starry nights, am full of dust
Kojey Radical:
If I didn’t answer don’t panic I was busy, living
With my I-dos and I-didn’ts
Sold many good rhythms to my past life
I made many good riddance with my past life
Was a comedy of tragedies, baby play your part
Someone told me put the pen down, if you don’t make a mark
Wrote the ending like the start, greatness on arrival
If I died on my knees, I said I prayer for all my rivals
Karma kind of spiteful but I like her, she an Eiffel
Eye for an eye but if I miss then it was my fault
Romeo and Juliet, the kiss could be to die for
If I’m not remembered then I question what I tried for
Who do I provide for? Maybe I should lie more?
The medicine is sweeter if I hide it in a trifle
Maybe I should cry more, say what’s on my mind more
The list of all my problems is a mouthful and a mindful
Eating everything like a Peter Pan diet
Moment of silence while my thoughts get quiet
Emmeline:
Golden lads and girls all must
Like chimney sweepers come to dust
Folk who grace the silver stage
With dying arms can never age
And music men with ballads bright
Are given wings with every night
And I with cheeks that softly blush
Like starry nights, am full of dust
Kojey Radical:
If I didn’t answer don’t panic I was busy, living
With my I-dos and I-didn’ts
Sold many good rhythms to my past life
I made many good riddance with my past life
Was a comedy of tragedies, baby play your part
Someone told me put the pen down, if you don’t make a mark
Wrote the ending like the start, greatness on arrival
If I died on my knees, I said I prayer for all my rivals
Karma kind of spiteful but I like her, she an Eiffel
Eye for an eye but if I miss then it was my fault
Romeo and Juliet, the kiss could be to die for
If I’m not remembered then I question what I tried for
Who do I provide for? Maybe I should lie more?
The medicine is sweeter if I hide it in a trifle
Maybe I should cry more, say what’s on my mind more
The list of all my problems is a mouthful and a mindful
Eating everything like a Peter Pan diet
Moment of silence while my thoughts get quiet
Emmeline:
Golden lads and girls all must
Like chimney sweepers come to dust
Folk who grace the silver stage
With dying arms can never age
And music men with ballads bright
Are given wings with every night
And I with cheeks that softly blush
Like starry nights, am full of dust
Kojey Radical
Eating everything like a Peter Pan diet
Moment of silence while my thoughts get quiet
Emmeline:
Golden lads and girls all must
Like chimney sweepers come to dust
Folk who grace the silver stage
With dying arms can never age
And music men with ballads bright
Are given wings with every night
And I with cheeks that softly blush
Like starry nights, am full of dust
Baby’s hooked your mother cried, look into your mother’s eyes
Forward to the corner shop and take you to the Beetle Drive
Spare parts and broken wings, chrome hearts, marble rings
1 calling 2, for lost luck and other things
5 is for the head, 6 is for the body
3 is for the legs that you lost in the lobby
Singing baby’s hooked your mother cried, look into your mother’s eyes
Forward to the corner shop then take you to the Beetle Drive
She packs black and white dice, tight in the fist
Rolling her luck, with the flick of a wrist
Protecting her interests, saving her start
From body with a head and six legs but no heart
He’s a senior day-boy, the talk of the town
Who gambled his inheritance on seven short rounds
For the niftiest creature, of hard-shell wear
Rolling around, with its legs in the air
And so she hopped in the side door of a shoddy Type 1
Switching gears with her right hand, pushing luck with her thumb
Whilst he practised his steering, mending the bends
Paving the road with a gentle pretence
And tumbled through the back with a hand-drawn cigarette
Taking a card, placing a bet
Crossing his chest for the luckiest lady
Who rolls up a five to call it her
Baby’s hooked your mother cried, look into your mother’s eyes
Forward to the corner shop and take you to the Beetle Drive
Spare parts and broken wings, chrome hearts, marble rings
1 calling 2, for lost luck and other things
5 is for the head, 6 is for the body
3 is for the legs that you lost in the lobby
Singing baby’s hooked your mother cried, look into your mother’s eyes
Forward to the corner shop then take you to the Beetle Drive
Cause she, held faith in the holiday romance
And she, saved grace on the family birth plan
Cause he, choked blue on the pith of divorce
And now he’s older, and wiser, but full of remorse
Oh how they, clocked eyes back on Beetle street
On the, wrong side of a line to keep
Or the, strange tides of a family dispute
Where the money comes fast, else the loving falls loose
Oh when they, locked legs to the marching band
Took the long route back for the lack of a plan
With a short stop, nabbed a couple of sheets
A ball point pen with big belief
Say that six again, make my beetle friend
Make my life tonight, call my poor fate’s end
Say that six again, make my beetle mended
It’s legs outstretched and it’s head offended
Baby’s hooked your mother cried, look into your mother’s eyes
Forward to the corner shop and take you to the Beetle Drive
Spare parts and broken wings, chrome hearts, marble rings
1 calling 2, for lost luck and other things
5 is for the head, 6 is for the body
3 is for the legs that you lost in the lobby
Singing baby’s hooked your mother cried, look into your mother’s eyes
Forward to the corner shop then take you to the Beetle Drive
I make peace I make peace with the Beetle Drive
Please give me luck give me something to hold on to
Forward to the corner shop then take you to the Beetle Drive
I make peace I make peace with the die I release
Something deep, within me
Forward to the corner shop then take you to the Beetle Drive
The small-town girl, on the soft summer night
In the stadium light, saying maybe it’s time, to take my own advice
The small-town girl, on that bowling village green
With the big band swaying and the great Kite saying, that it’s time to let it be
If I lose another second of the memory
The day was young, to the late night’s envy
You held me up to see the sun, and showed me save face when the day wants done
A sundial checked, my east to west
A chalk red road, led Marsden’s best
Lemon-lime in Pantomime season, rhyme opposed to reason
The splitting of the sea was the gift that you gave me
Cause way to the power of three
With autumn’s face of split-pea Green Knight, I’m taught to steer the sky
Late air, with a hand to the chest
The radio’s wired like my mother knows best
Hear the whistle in the wind, that’s my home town
Hear the love songs play, while the sun falls down
The small-town girl, on the soft summer night
In the stadium light, saying maybe it’s time, to take my own advice
The small-town girl, on that bowling village green
With the big band swaying and the great Kite saying, that it’s time to let it be
Two by twos and (uh) school shoes
And(uh) she falls again, to ego bruised
As playground kicks the common myth, that life is what your youth depicts
Silver nights spent swept out on the beach, trading shells as secrets to keep
The deeper we seek, with our hands to the sea, held tight to the friends that are still with me
From, playing house in a summer dress
To, staying out till the summer left
A little life plays in montage seen my best days to music, been a
Strange time to be grown up, to be more now than I once was
Trade in for seventeen Fadeout to evergreen
And that small town girl With a pencil up her sleeve
Did she know back then what the big world meant?
Did she ever resemble me?
And those mental reservations
About times that you can’t amend
Are lost to the wind, till death do we say
Put an end to the play pretend
The small-town girl, on the soft summer night
In the stadium light, saying maybe it’s time, to take my own advice
The small-town girl, on that bowling village green
With the big band swaying and the great Kite saying, that it’s time to let it be
The small-town girl, on the soft summer night
In the stadium light, saying maybe it’s time, to take my own advice
The small-town girl, on that bowling village green
With the big band swaying and the great Kite saying, that it’s time to let it be
