Curiosity as Rhythm: Soul Surge Meets Steam Down

Photography by Jimmy Ifeanyi What happens when curiosity meets community? At Soul Surge Meets Steam Down , that question was was answered in abundance. The in-conversation with Ahnansé and Afronaut Zu, moderated by Soul Surge founder Anthony Olanipekun aka Tony Supreme — felt like a gentle collision of frequencies: words, rhythms, and lived experience. When asked about why he started the series, Tony described the gathering as “born out of curiosity,” a response that held the views of both a seasoned critic and zealous fan. And every member of the audience upheld the same vision when it came to music, instantly forming a shared experience that was unique from beginning to end. The format was simple but powerful. Two artists, surrounded by peers and listeners, spoke about process, intention, and the spaces between. As their conversation unfolded, it became clear that Steam Down  see themselves as bigger  than artists. The way they operate, collaborate and fashion can only be likened to a self-sufficient ecosystem. Since its founding in 2017, Steam Down’s #SDWEEKLY sessions, now stationed in Peckham Levels, have been sacred ground for London’s sonic explorers: improvised, open, collective. That same ethos shaped the night — no script, just flow. Photography by Jimmy Ifeanyi Between reflections, the group’s new album, I Realised It Was Me , was played on vinyl, filling the room through bespoke speakers at Mason & Fifth’s Westbourne Park branch. Each track felt alive in analog. You could feel people listening with their whole bodies nodding, swaying, sometimes closing their eyes as the bassline bloomed or a horn line dissolved into silence. Playing the album this way was a “ritual”, according to Zu. In conversation, Ahnansé and Zu traced the album’s journey from sketches to completion, revealing how Nate Ricketts (drummer) became a quiet architect behind the scenes despite being one of the youngest members in the cohort. His contribution was both technical and structural, shaping how the record balanced its dual nature: the raw energy of live improvisation and the clarity of considered production. The pair described the recording process as translation and communication — a way of capturing the communal electricity of #SDWEEKLY within the controlled chaos of a studio. That same duality defines I Realised It Was Me . The record feels both spontaneous and polished in the same instance. Listening, you hear a conversation between instruments and vocals in way that sounds so obvious but deserves mention. The overarching inspirations are drawn from near and far, with Ahnansé touching on his musical journey playing various genres across West Africa whilst Zu touches on his Nigerian roots and Afrobeat playing a vital role in his offering. With the incorporation of Jazz, Soul and Punk/Rock elements, it’s an album that embodies Blackness in its entirety.  Photography by Jimmy Ifeanyi One of the most electric moments came just before Tempest . After the echo of the piano keys faded out on the opening track, Martians , the room held its breath Ahnansé and Afronaut Zu began speaking. They told how the bulk of the instrumentals for the album were recorded in just two days aboard a boat-turned-studio, floating on water while cables, mics, and cables hummed in the hull. That story reframed the urgency and tension in Tempest  itself. On the inverse, we see how a funny story comes together with talking at the end of the song references the boat rocking, when all was still.  Elsewhere, Conflicted  unfurls like slow motion. Layers of sax, synth shading, and skittering percussion both dance and wrestle one another for dominance for just over 8 minutes.  And on Reflection  (featuring Summer Pearl), the record opens up: airy chords float against a bass pulse that never overpowers. Together, these tracks show how the album balances density and space, tension and release — and how the “boat-studio” tale is less gimmick and more metaphor: everything here was made in motion, under constraints, and in conversation with environment. There are layers of meaning in how the album was presented at the event. To hear it played on vinyl while its creators unpacked the how and why gave each song new depth. The medium really  mattered: analog sound, room acoustics, the physical act of listening. It reminded us that Steam Down’s music has always existed in community, despite the fact that I Realised It Was Me is their first project on streaming platforms. By the end of the night, the boundary between artist and audience had dissolved. What started as a Q&A became a collective meditation. The crowd conversed, reflected and added energy back into the circle. You left with the sense that the album and perhaps Steam Down as a concept, is less a finished statement and more a living question. I Realised It Was Me  isn’t a debut that tries to prove, rather, it simply exists. It hums with curiosity, the same force that brought this event into being. To witness that curiosity made manifest, in sound and dialogue, was to remember that music at its core is presence and meaning over performance. Photography by Jimmy Ifeanyi