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Words: Em Tobin Images: Katy Bedford (@katwattle) Charlotte Meade by Katy Bedford Charlotte Meade’s music is visceral, steeped in nostalgia, pinpointing a moment suspended in time, held still for reflection before redirection. What Meade understands is the alchemic transmutation of memory, the salty lick of sweet summer oceanic waves, the veil of green and smell of rain before an afternoon hailstorm, a prophecy buried beneath the hardwood floorboards of a childhood home. Charlotte Meade’s...

I doubt I’ll ever expect their debut album to finish; I’ll always be wanting, and anticipating another wash of emo-inspired shoegaze noise to start and enamour me for a further three minutes.

For me, the week was mostly spent running between Fortitude Music Hall, tiny rooms, carparks and whatever venue I could get to before the next set started.