From Newcastle to London, Imogen and the Knife crafts raw, orchestral ballads that cut deep, exploring love, identity, and the stories that shape us.

Cutting to the core of love in all its multifaceted glory with her orchestral, grungy ballads, Imogen and the Knife is one to watch this year. Her latest release, an extended version of debut EP “Some Kind of Love”, strikes a delicate balance between personal and relatable: grounded in her northern heritage and recurring dreams, the tracks offer thoughtful reflections on womanhood, family, and the joyful, painful love that binds it all together.

We caught up with Imogen to discuss how she forges connections with listeners, the importance of nurturing local music scenes, and the inevitable intertwining of personal and musical identity.

For those unfamiliar with your music, can you tell us who you are, where you’re from, and about the music you make?

Hiya, I’m Imogen, ‘Immy’, ‘Im’, ‘Imagine’ if you heard it wrong. I’m from Newcastle now based in SE London. I make music as Imogen and the Knife which at the heart is soulful songwriting, sometimes grungy, sometimes orchestral, sometimes massive, sometimes tiny - wherever the mood takes it.

I’ve read that “the knife”, among other things, is a reference to the surgical procedures you’ve undergone – how has it felt to incorporate something so personal into your artistic identity?

My relationship with my body and pain is something that underpins all my work, as it does my life, even if just subliminally. It’s so intrinsic to the way I experience the world that it only made sense to incorporate it, boldly, into my artist name. It’s an empowering reclamation of the surgical knife for sure, but it’s also a joining together of my identity. I feel whole now. It’s weird!

This vulnerability is apparent across your music – you navigate love, relationships, and dreams with both tenderness and grit. What have you learned from being so open in your songwriting?

Thank you. I’ve never really been any other way with it. But I have learned that songs that I didn’t hold back on are the ones that seem to connect the most. We’re all human and want to be reflected a human experience. I do tend to allow things to ruminate before writing them, so I don’t get preoccupied with the specifics of my own experience but instead explore the feelings, colours, and images it conjures up. That way I’m hoping to allow people into the experience as their own. Not just listening to my story but in fact thinking about their own lives. I think that’s what makes a successful song. It’s what I’m striving for anyway.

Your latest release, “Some Kind of Love, Extended Suite”, is an expanded version of the original “Some Kind of Love”. What motivated you to release these extra songs, as well as the demo of the title track?

I had the two extra tracks floating around my head and notebooks the whole time I was making the EP, so it felt like they were a natural part of the same world. Albeit perhaps more introverted and intimate. It felt good to return to my basics on these tunes. To release them as they were written with not much overthinking, just trust. That’s kinda how they were written too, in some sort of trance at the piano. I also wanted to release the demo because I felt like the song had two lives. One in which the production rooted the song in the dream world it came from, and the other allowing it to sit in its true tenderness and sadness.

In “If It Won’t Talk of Rain”, a particularly compelling line is “what’s a voice of the north if it won’t talk of rain” – it’s delivered with a striking bittersweetness that feels somewhat brooding yet defiant. How has your upbringing in Newcastle shaped your musical identity today?

I’ve spoken about this a lot, how Newcastle has a culture of song and storytelling, so music and singing was part of my make-up from a very early age. It’s also impossible to know if I’d be still making music if it weren’t for the encouragement of the music scene up there. If It Won’t Talk of Rain is a special song for me because it was the first time I’d been able to articulate the feelings around my upbringing as a proud Geordie and musician, and what this meant as a young girl choosing to leave home and how I continue to navigate that kind of torn identity. Musically and spiritually, Newcastle, my childhood, my heritage, are in my veins when I’m writing, and so shape every song, even if not specifically the subject matter.

What are your ins and outs for 2025?

INS - snatched suits, trans rights, a free Palestine

OUTS - coriander (I have the soapy gene), fascism, Farage, Section 21

Is there any music you listened to growing up that’s still having an impact on you, be it personally or as an artist?

I was fed on The Beatles, Bowie, Lindisfarne, Carol King, Kate Bush, Pink Floyd, and Prince as a kid so they’re just in there all the time working the lobes. Would be wrong and uncool of me not to include Britney in there too.

With an upcoming support slot for Lucia and the Best Boys and spots on various UK festival lineups, what else can we expect from you in 2025? What are you most looking forward to?

New music, for sure. More collaborations in the works. I also just produced a project for somebody else for the first time which I’m super excited for people to hear. Another OUT for 2025, imposter syndrome - you are a producer honey, don’t let the boys take up all the space xxxxx

Start Listening To: Imogen and the Knife