September sun slopes in the kitchen window, fadge fries gently on a griddle pan, birdsong seeping through the window and one last lazy bee stirs itself from a cardboard crate of apples, there’s the clink of a spoon, a mug radiating warmth. Nothing’s happening but there’s loads going on.
Summer Visitor, third album from collaborative, multidisciplinary reeling/spooling guitaretc duo Whin, springs sprightly onto a branch, flitting in like a greenfinch at the birdbath in a summer drought. Robert Dallas Gray and Martin Henry’s previous Whin collaborations evoke quiet, domestic, homely space where the creaks of chairs, crawling children, whispered thanks and secrets shift through the interpolations of guitars and other instruments. Summer Visitor hugely expands these scales, both outwards and inwards, to transportive effect.
An opening of fingerstyle and Nick Drake-style High Folk gives way to turbulent billows of reverbed guitar as Jill O’Sullivan’s spirited, colourful fiddle playing finds us rapidly in unconventional territory. City Haiku, Hours and particularly Euston Parakeets obliterate distinctions between tuneup and performance – players’ playing resolving in and out of itself, suggestions of the reveries in Jim O’Rourke’s early 00s rock albums, of Mahar Shalal Hash Baz, of Woo or Arthur Russell’s Instrumentals, of the sun suddenly breaking through on a grey day when you’re out walking the dog.
Lots more singing. Martin Henry’s fragile sweet/sour lyrics noticing little birds in the bushes, small changes in atmosphere, fragmented half-heard conversations and memories. Fritz Welch’s understated, tone-perfect percussion like the sound of cords rubbing against each other on a night walk home, like keys and coins pressed together in a pocket. And huge emotional shifts, So It Goes and Solstice both expansive tilts at depicting churning existential interiority and stirring, hopeful new days to come. Then a cavalcade of the everyday in miniature.
“Yeah, let's go for another one.”
A breeze rustles beech leaves on a branch in a forest, the dog runs down the stairs, there’s a big moon out slightly occluded by a half a cloud. You are passed a warm drink. A string slightly buzzes as you start to play.
In your bed, the rain on the roof, all around.
Colm Linnane, September 2026
Credits
Music and instruments by Robert Dallas Gray, Martin Henry
Vocals and lyrics by Martin Henry
Violin on By the Low Water and Solstice by Jill O’Sullivan
Additional vocal on By the Low Water by Phil Eaglesham
Drums and percussion on City Haiku, Dancing Cairns, Euston Parakeets, Solstice and Monty by Fritz Welch
Synthesizers on City Haiku by Craig Mulholland
Double bass on Hours by Stevie Jones
Guitar on So It Goes by Dylan Baldi, and additional vocal by Kim Grant
Photos by Martin Henry, layout by Robert Dallas Gray
Recorded at home 2025–2026 by Whin and contributors
Thanks to: the Henry family, the Mellan family, the Dallas Gray family, and all of our contributors