The Melancholy Hours Captures the Beauty of Fleeting Moments on “SunSeekers”

Photo by James Patrick Smith 

Italian-born, East London-based composer Thomas Bagnoli, recording under The Melancholy Hours, has released “SunSeekers,” the latest preview of his forthcoming 2027 album, Notes from the Sea.

The instrumental track was inspired by the familiar sight of people gathering to watch the final moments of daylight, with Thomas Bagnoli using the experience as a starting point to explore presence, impermanence, and the instinct to follow the light.

Built around analog tape loops, layered guitars, and experimental sound manipulation, “SunSeekers” reflects The Melancholy Hours’ texture-driven approach to composition. Rather than relying on traditional song structures, repetition and gradual sonic changes guide the track, allowing imperfections and subtle shifts to become part of its character.

The release also draws from Thomas Bagnoli’s time traveling alone through the Canary Islands. Landscapes, photographs, and experiences collected during those travels became an important creative foundation for Notes from the Sea.

“With ‘SunSeekers’, I hope people connect with the music and find something personal in it,” Thomas Bagnoli explains. “The song is about following the light, noticing your surroundings and allowing yourself to be present for a moment.”

“SunSeekers” follows the September release of debut EP In Saudade, a collaborative project with Arthur Pegis of Monochromatic Visions that incorporated elements of shoegaze, dream-pop, and synthesizer-driven music.

Notes from the Sea will expand further into instrumental territory across eight compositions. The forthcoming album was mastered by Simon Scott of Slowdive and will also feature a vocal collaboration with Alex Argot.

With live performances also in development, “SunSeekers” marks the beginning of the next chapter for The Melancholy Hours and offers an early look at the atmosphere and ideas shaping Notes from the Sea.

Photo by James Patrick Smith

“SunSeekers” began with the observation of people following the last light of the day. What about that seemingly ordinary ritual made you want to translate it into music?

When I travel to the Canary Islands, chasing the sun and finding a quiet, isolated place to watch the sunset has become a kind of daily ritual for me. That moment of the day is probably the most meditative part of my day. It allows me to detach from everything, be present, connect with my thoughts, and feel grateful for where I am and for everything around me.

Those moments and experiences tend to stay with me, and sometimes they naturally find their way into the music. With “SunSeekers”, the feeling of following the last light of the day became one of the things that shaped the piece. It isn't about describing a particular sunset, but more about capturing something of what that moment means to me: being completely present, stepping away from everything else, and allowing yourself to simply experience it.

Your compositions rely heavily on analog tape loops, repetition, and the unpredictable nature of sound manipulation. How do you determine when a piece has reached its final form, particularly when the recording process itself plays such an important creative role?

That’s a great question. I don’t usually start recording with a clear idea of what I want the finished piece to sound like. A lot of the time, melodies and ideas just come naturally while I’m playing, and I record those first. From there, I start adding layers, experimenting with different instruments, tapes, and sounds, and gradually see where the piece takes me. I usually like to keep the original melody quite present, even as the piece develops around it. The recording process becomes part of discovering what the music can become, rather than trying to follow a structure that I have already decided on. I’ve never been particularly drawn to fixed structures, so this more unconventional way of working feels natural to me. I also like to approach each release differently. I’m constantly exploring new sounds, instruments, tape machines, and other equipment, so every record becomes a learning process. I can keep experimenting for quite a long time, but eventually I reach a point where the piece simply feels right. If adding more layers makes it too busy or starts taking it away from the original melody, that’s usually when I know it’s time to stop.

You spent a month alone in the Canary Islands, and those landscapes became an important influence on Notes from the Sea. Did that period of solitude change how you approached composition or how you understood your relationship with music?

This is quite a deep question for me. I’ve been living in London for almost 11 years now, and when I decided to go to the Canary Islands, I was going through a very difficult period in my life. I felt like I needed to disappear for a while, step away from everything, and reconnect with myself.

I think an experience like that creates its own landscape in your mind, and that’s probably what I was trying to get into with the album. Of course, the places I was surrounded by, the landscapes and everything I experienced there influenced the music, but I think I was really trying to translate something that was happening internally. In a way, the experience eventually liberated me from a lot of things from the past, without me being consciously aware of it at the time.

When I came back, I just started recording and approaching music in my own way. It felt very natural. I recorded a lot of ideas without really knowing where they were going, and then gradually collected the ones that felt right and could work together coherently as an album. I don’t think the solitude necessarily changed my approach to composition in a conscious way. It was more that something had shifted internally, and that naturally came through in the way I started making music afterward.

I’ve kept going back to the Canary Islands ever since, whenever I feel I need that distance again. It’s almost become a habit, because I always seem to come back with something new, an idea, a feeling, or simply a different perspective.

Your debut EP, In Saudade, incorporates shoegaze and dream-pop influences, while Notes from the Sea moves toward longer, more experimental instrumental compositions. What inspired that creative shift, and what did you discover about yourself while making the album?

I think the transition from In Saudade to Notes from the Sea happened quite naturally. In Saudade was still very much connected to summer, nostalgia, previous trips, and past relationships. The demos were recorded by me and were quite rough ideas, usually starting with layers of guitar loops and drum kits. In a way, it was still an extension of the way I had been working with Monochromatic Visions.

I then developed those ideas together with my bandmate Artur Pegis. We share a flat in London where we also have our own small studio with all our equipment, so it was a very natural and collaborative process. He helped turn those rough demos into something that felt more like complete songs by adding synths and bass.

There was still a connection to the kind of music we were making together at the time, when we were starting to explore more experimental territory and blend different genres. I was also listening to a lot of HTRK, Slowdive, Windy & Carl, and Bowery Electric, which naturally became part of that period too. So for me, In Saudade still had the last bit of that band-related influence in it, even though the initial ideas were already coming from my own work.

After the Canary Islands trip, things naturally started moving in a different direction. When I came back, I began working in a much more personal way, without really thinking about traditional song structures or where the music was supposed to go. Notes from the Sea became a much more direct exploration of my own approach, experimenting with sounds, recording methods, and ideas and seeing where they would take me.

I think that’s probably what I discovered while making the album: that I could develop my own approach and methodology without needing to fit the music into something else. It felt like I was finally figuring out what The Melancholy Hours could be on its own.

Having Notes from the Sea mastered by Simon Scott of Slowdive is a significant connection to the musical world your project inhabits. What did that collaboration bring to the finished record, and how are you approaching the challenge of translating these intricate studio compositions into live performances?

Slowdive has been one of my favorite bands since I was a teenager, and their sound has probably influenced me more than any other band. I remember seeing Simon doing a short ambient live set in East London a few years ago, and I realized he was also releasing his own music, which had a sound quite close to what I had in mind for Notes from the Sea.

That made me think he could be the best fit for the album. When I was looking for someone to master it, I wanted someone who would understand the direction I was taking but also bring their own perspective. Simon did exactly that. His contribution made the album feel more coherent, and he focused on a lot of small sonic details that really helped bring out the best in the recordings. Having the opportunity for him to listen to my demos and eventually work on the mastering was a real privilege, especially considering how much his work has influenced me over the years.  

When it comes to translating Notes from the Sea into a live setting, it’s quite tricky now because I’m not physically able to reproduce the new album live in its current form. Most of the tracks I perform are therefore from In Saudade, as the guitar parts work more naturally with backing tracks. There is one piece from Notes from the Sea that I use at the beginning of the set. I improvise over the track and create an additional live loop, while manipulating it with effects and granular tape sounds. I like having that element of improvisation because I’m not simply reproducing the studio recording but allowing the piece to develop differently during each performance.

I’m also currently experimenting with modular synths as another layer for the live shows. I’m still figuring out how that could work, but I think it could make the performance more interesting both for me and for the audience. I’d like the live show to feel more like an audiovisual performance. I am having visuals projected behind me that connect with and help describe the music, while keeping the stage itself very dark and avoiding having lights directly on me. I don’t really want the audience to be focused on watching me perform; I’d rather they get immersed in the music and the images. I think that would feel much more natural for this project.