This week we’re diving into a gloriously profound soundscape in the shape of Sami Fitz‘s new album Some Hills Were Once Islands. Recorded in London, New York, and Reykjavik, this impressive collection of ten tracks asks listeners to look inwards and hold space for grief, hope and resilience. In order to understand this record on a deeper level, we asked this London-based British-American musician about the challenges of pouring one’s soul into music, the unexpected moments of clarity, the beautiful connections made through the songwriting and recording process, and the necessity to embrace imperfection. Beyond the album, Sami Fitz also shares insights into how her classical training and experiences in live performance influence her artistry. So without further ado, let’s dive into Some Hills Were Once Islands.
Welcome to Unrecorded! For those who aren’t familiar with Sami Fitz, can you introduce yourself?
Hi, I’m Sami. I’m a musician whose work is rooted in exploring the depths of human emotion. My sound blends ambient, experimental, and folk influences—through layered sound and vocals, I aim to capture fleeting, raw moments that reveal the beauty of life often left unspoken.
My journey has been shaped by contrasts—classical voice training gave me structure, while my time immersed in New York and London’s experimental music scenes opened me to the freedom of spontaneity and emotional depth. Music, for me, is a way of stepping into the heart of emotion and letting it unfold naturally.
My debut album, Some Hills Were Once Islands, reflects this deeply—it’s an exploration of living through the loss of my father during the pandemic and the suicide of a close friend. Alongside my music, I also practice and teach sound meditation. Through my music, I strive to create a sound space where people can connect with and embrace emotions that are complex, raw, and difficult, yet ultimately transformative.
Let’s dive right in and talk about your new album Some Hills Were Once Islands. What inspired the title, and how does it reflect the themes of the album?
The title comes from the idea that nature and feelings evolve over time—what was once isolated can eventually become connected. That imagery resonated deeply with the themes of the album, which explores grief, hope, and resilience as fluid, ever-changing experiences. Grief can feel like an island, something solitary and disconnected, but as time passes, it becomes a part of a larger landscape of emotions. It reflects the journey of finding connection and meaning in the wake of loss.
How did crafting these songs help you navigate your own experiences of loss, grief, hope, and resilience?
Writing these songs became a way to sit with my emotions, to process them without rushing or thinking it was somethign to get through. The process was cathartic—it allowed me to hold space for my emotions, especially during the loss of my father and a dear friend. Grief can feel overwhelming, but creating these soundscapes gave me a way to explore it in layers and also understand how it was connected to the universal loss we all experience. As the songs unfolded, they brought moments of unexpected hope and clarity, reminding me that grief and joy can coexist.
The album was recorded across London, New York, and Reykjavik. How did these locations influence the project?
Each location had its own energy that subtly shaped the music. London brought a sense of structure and introspection, while New York’s pace and rawness gave certain tracks a sense of honesty. Reykjavik, with its wide-open landscapes and stillness, created space for the more meditative and expansive parts of the album. These places weren’t just backdrops—they felt like collaborators, each offering a unique lens through which the music could emerge. I also chose these places due to the influences they already had in my sonic language. I was deeply influenced by British music and Icelandic music growing up.
As well as various locations, you had several collaborators. What was it like working with Albert Finnbogason, Leo Abrahams, and Shahzad Ismaily? Anyone else to mention?
Working with Albert, Leo, Alex, and Shahzad was transformative. Each of them brought something deeply personal and intuitive to the process. Albert has this incredible ear for songwriting, musicality, and space, which helped give the album its atmospheric and structured quality. Leo is so talented—his ability to craft harmonies and layers added so much depth to the songs. He also brings such warmth to the experience of creativity. He allows for artists to emerge as themselves – which is so unique. He’s also wildly creative and encouraging. I trust his ear immensely – plus sometimes he would do something I was thinking without even talking about it. Those moments can feel quite magical. Shahzad has a way of bringing magic into any room he enters. His approach to recording is unique and is the basis of how I create. His flexibility with creativity allowed the songs to develop in a very raw, emotional place. I also want to mention Seb Rochford, Darren Clark, Katie Tavini, and Magnús Trygvason Eliassen, whose contributions brought so much richness and dimension to the recordings.
What was the most challenging aspect of creating Some Hills Were Once Islands? How did you overcome it?
The biggest challenge was allowing myself to be vulnerable. These songs were written during a time of personal loss, and it felt risky to be so open. There were moments when I wanted to pull back, to make things easier to listen to—or easier to create. Overcoming that meant trusting the process and the people I was working with. Their belief in the project helped me stay true to the emotional core of the album.
I’m naturally quite shy and tend to hold my emotions close, but facing such profound loss forced me to open up and let people in. It was a transformational period for me—this album became a space for emotional and spiritual growth. In many ways, it soothed the wounds of my childhood and helped me process feelings I had been hiding for so long.
I hope this music allows others to experience that same release, to feel deeply, and to move through difficult times with hope. It’s a reminder that even in our most vulnerable moments, there’s potential for healing and connection.
What advantages do you think your background in classical training brings to the creative process? And do you think it can sometimes get in the way?
Classical training gave me a strong foundation in technique and discipline, which is invaluable when navigating complex arrangements. It also helped me understand the emotional power of dynamics and performance. But there’s a flip side—it can sometimes create a fear of imperfection. Part of this album’s magic came from embracing spontaneity and imperfection, letting the creaks and breaths remain as part of the story.
You’re also an experienced live performer. How does live performance influence your connection to the music and your audience?
Live performance is where the music becomes something alive and shared. Every audience is different, and that energy feeds into how I play and connect with the songs. There’s something intimate and unpredictable about performing live—it’s a space where I can experiment, respond to the moment, and feel the immediacy of connection with the audience. It’s a reminder that music isn’t static; it evolves each time it’s performed. I’m actually terrified of it but I’m getting more and more comfortable with the experience.
What do you hope people take away from this album?
I hope listeners find space in the music to feel whatever they need to feel—whether it’s grief, hope, or simply stillness. The album isn’t about offering answers but about holding space for emotions to unfold naturally. If it helps someone slow down and connect with themselves or the world around them, then it’s done its job.
What else do listeners have to look forward to through the end of 2024 and into early 2025?
There are a few exciting things in the works. I’ll be performing live in 2025 – along with my sound meditations around London. There’s always new music bubbling beneath the surface—I’m already thinking about what’s next. I expect another album by the end of 2025. I think I have a lot more to say and create.
You can also find lead single ‘Changes’ in our Shades of Pop playlist.
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