For Williams, playing the inaugural edition of a festival carried its own significance. She spoke warmly about the privilege of helping shape the identity of something entirely new, praising not only the carefully curated line-up but also the industrial surroundings that reminded her why she always enjoys returning to Northern Europe. What stood out most, however, was watching the audience gradually surrender to the performance.

“You can’t always really tell who knows you before you walk on stage. Unless someone is wearing your shirt or singing the words, you don’t really have any idea if anybody knows what you’re doing. To see a crowd gradually kind of come into your world and get on side over the course of the set is lovely.”

It proved to be an especially fitting moment to perform. Just one day earlier, ‘Solstice’ had finally been released after more than a year of quietly existing only in Williams‘ own world. Like many artists, she admitted that living with songs for so long makes it easy to forget that everyone else is only just beginning that journey. Reading comments about album tracks that had never been released as singles was therefore an oddly exciting experience.

“It’s kind of lovely that now it’s out in the world and it belongs to everyone else now. It’s not just mine anymore. It stops being mine as soon as it presses go on that release date.”

Although she knows her music will never appeal to absolutely everyone, what continues to amaze her is the intensity of the connection it creates among those who do embrace it. Rather than indifference, she encounters listeners who describe her work with remarkable warmth and gratitude. That relationship between artist and listener lies at the heart of ‘Solstice’ itself. Interestingly, the album didn’t begin with a title or even a clearly defined concept. For a long time it simply existed as a collection of songs. Only later did Williams recognise the common thread running through them. Love and loss emerged as the two emotional poles around which everything revolved. Between those opposites, she found a fitting metaphor in the changing seasons, where darkness slowly gives way to light before inevitably returning again.

“We cycle between them. It is about change and it is about transition. It’s about that grey area between the two as well. You don’t always know you’re even doing it.”

While those themes originate in her own experiences, Williams is careful not to let her songwriting become so personal that it excludes the listener. Her own emotions merely provide the starting point. The real challenge lies in expressing feelings that are deeply individual in a way that becomes universal. She smiled while describing just how painstaking that process can be.

“It’s hard to describe a feeling in a few words. It takes me ages. But I want people to listen to it and go, ‘I know this feeling.'”

Judging by the stories fans continue to share after concerts, that approach has clearly resonated. People regularly tell her that her music helped them through difficult moments or simply made them feel less alone. Those conversations remain among the most meaningful aspects of her career because they mirror the role music has always played in her own life. Whether she needs comfort, perspective or simply company, music has always been there.

“I use music as a tool all the time… The idea that people use my music in that way as well is incredible.”

Looking back on the years since her earliest releases, Williams sees someone who was still discovering her own voice in every sense of the word. She had barely sung in public before releasing her first EP, making vocal confidence something that could only develop through experience. Today, that confidence extends well beyond singing. She no longer feels limited by subject matter or musical expectations. Instead, she trusts both her own instincts and the audience that has continued to embrace every new direction she explores.

“If I try something that I want to try, people will come with me. And that’s really cool.”

That trust also shapes her approach to live performance. While audiences often describe the concerts as heavier than the records themselves, Williams believes the difference comes less from changing arrangements than from the physical reality of amplifiers, movement and shared energy inside a room. For her, performing gradually becomes less about analysing lyrics and more about surrendering to an emotional state. As she put it with a smile:

“There is nothing more cathartic than kicking on your guitar pedals.”

Despite the immersive atmosphere her concerts have become known for, Williams insists there is surprisingly little theatrical trickery involved. Smoke and lighting certainly help, but she believes intimacy is created through restraint rather than spectacle. Her goal is not to overwhelm audiences but to gently draw them into another space for an hour, allowing everyday concerns to quietly fade into the background.

“You could be playing in front of a thousand people and it can still feel close and intimate… They kind of forget the rest of life for a bit and come to me and feel whatever it makes them feel.”

As ‘Solstice’ begins its own journey through listeners’ lives, Williams remains grateful not only for those who buy records or attend concerts, but equally for those who simply recommend the music to a friend. For her, that shared enthusiasm has always been one of music’s greatest strengths. Long after the release date has passed, that’s ultimately what she hopes remains: songs that no longer belong solely to their creator, but become companions for everyone willing to step into her world.

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