Dancing in fringe and moonlight, British singer/songwriter Luca Wilding makes a dramatic return with “Leonine,” a luminous dream-folk reverie that carries grief in one hand and liberation in the other – tenderly transforming memory into music and loss into light, with a rhinestone cowboy and a heart full of hope.
Stream: “Leonine” – Luca Wilding
He parks his battered Ford pickup at a roadside motel, a small suitcase riding shotgun. Inside it lies not a change of clothes, but a dazzling pink cowboy getup – pearl snaps, fringe, embroidery, and a yellow necktie – a costume brimming with promise and memory. There’s a faded photograph tucked inside as well: A woman’s smiling face, long gone, but never forgotten. He slips into the outfit, steps out beneath the night sky, and begins to dance – a man chasing dreams not just for himself, but for the love he lost.
This is the tender, bittersweet world of Luca Wilding’s “Leonine”: A luminous dream-folk reverie that carries grief in one hand and liberation in the other, transforming memory into music and loss into light. The British singer/songwriter turns loss into movement and sorrow into song, crafting a piece that aches with longing even as it radiates warmth and release. Capturing the fragile, fleeting spark of life that persists even in the shadow of grief, “Leonine” is at once devastating and life-affirming – a reminder that though some dreams may fade, the pursuit of them still fills us with purpose, heart, and meaning.
In that liminal space between heartache and hope, Luca Wilding finds his voice and soars.
Said it was a lonely thing
The kerosene flicker upon his skin
He used to dress in the drive
when the heat got bad
And heavy the moonlight laughed
On his starred-up face
Made it kinda hard to change
As he read her address in the lilac rain
And then he’d talk about
the messages he had sent
And all that I would repent
Guess I was born that way
Atwood Magazine is proud to be premiering “Leonine,” the sweetly stirring first single off British dream-folk artist Luca Wilding’s highly anticipated third EP, Ocean Mother (due early 2026). Set to release September 4, 2025, the track arrives with a stirring music video directed by Aisha Schliessler, who translates Wilding’s tender reflection into vivid cinematic form. “Leonine” finds Wilding reemerging with his most ambitious and affecting work to date – a bittersweet reverie on friendship and loss that extends the poetic, soul-stirring promise of his past EPs To and Book of Fate into brighter, more expansive sonic territory.
“For me, ‘Leonine’ is about the duality of memory – the sharp pain of loss and the strange, almost overwhelming joy that emerges when words start to bloom from the ashes in your mouth,” Wilding tells Atwood Magazine. “It is about the movement of grief – at first jagged, heavy, impossible to carry, but slowly becoming softer; more luminous.”
He continues, “It was written about a close friend of mine. It began as a simple expression of heartbreak, but as time passed it started to change, to gather pace, as the memories of his life came flooding back to me. In the end it wrote itself; what it gave back to me was a dreamlike recollection of the strange and singular magic he brought into my life, and for that, I am most grateful.”
So I said leave us nothing
Oh Leonine!
All bathed in morning
Cutting the line;
Then shaking the dust
From the binders twine
That lay about his hands
He said I talked to god
In a box car yard
Then he wrung out his braids
On the boulevard
Saying time ain’t no healer
for a stricken old heart
Oh, now we’ll never speak again
Wilding’s words illuminate the dual currents flowing through “Leonine.”
The verses are hushed and haunting, filled with fragile imagery: “Said it was a lonely thing, the kerosene flicker upon his skin… He used to dress in the drive when the heat got bad, and heavy the moonlight laughed on his starred-up face.” The song’s world is built from flickers and fragments, from delicate recollections that hover like half-lit memories. Yet the chorus is expansive, invigorating, and full of release: “So I said leave us nothing, oh Leonine! All bathed in morning, cutting the line…” Here the music swells with emotion and raw energy; guitar lines stretch wide, percussion rattles and rolls, and Wilding’s voice rises with searing intensity. In this contrast, we feel grief’s jaggedness soften into radiance.
Starring James C. Burns as the Rhinestone Cowboy, Aisha Schliessler’s music video builds on this contrast, extending the song’s themes into a vivid cinematic narrative.
The older man’s pink cowboy outfit is more than costume – it is armor, inheritance, and promise, a way of carrying memory into performance. When he dances outside the motel, his movements sync with the track’s transformation: The drums pick up, the electric guitar grows bolder, and Wilding’s vocals become an all-consuming force of warmth and wonder. For a brief, dazzling moment, sorrow becomes freedom.
Yet the story ends not with triumph, but with bittersweet absence. Arriving too late to the talent show, the man finds only an empty room, the janitor stacking chairs in silence. His dream has slipped past him, but the journey itself – the dressing, the dancing, the daring to step into the light – is its own kind of victory. As viewers, we are left with a poignant reminder: Sometimes we miss the stage, but the act of chasing what matters still gives meaning to our lives.
“Working with Aisha has been a real gift,” Wilding says of the collaboration. “Her style felt so perfectly aligned with the visual world I imagined for the EP that I immediately knew we had to work together. Aisha’s filmmaking has this rare quality of being at once intimate and expansive – she has this incredible way of weaving atmosphere and emotion into her work, so that her films feel so utterly alive. That’s exactly how I wanted ‘Leonine’ to feel – not just a film, but a fragment of memory made visible.”
Together, song and film form a world of their own: One where grief dances in fringe and embroidery, where memory wears boots and a necktie, where sorrow finds fleeting, fragile joy in motion.
So baby don’t you leave that way
It was shoulder to cheek
in his room we prayed
Then in the ocean of air
that we breathed that night
He told me I’d done alright
With eyes ablaze
There he talked his dreams to sleep
And while they broke his crown
I held onto his sleeve
I would’ve given my heart for him
Oh man!
Oh man he must be free
In many ways, “Leonine” feels like a threshold moment for Wilding.
Following the acclaim of To and Book of Fate – celebrated by The Independent, CLASH, BBC 6 Music, and Atwood itself – Ocean Mother promises to expand his dream-folk into even more cinematic, resonant terrain. With this stirring return, he transforms the jagged edges of grief into a cathartic, resonant reverie, singing not just for himself, but for those we’ve lost and those we still hold close.
So I said leave us nothing
Oh Leonine
All bathed in morning
Cutting the line;
Then shaking the dust
From the binders twine
That lay about his hands
He said I talked to god
In a box car yard
Then he wrung out his braids
On the boulevard
Saying time ain’t no healer
To a stricken old heart
And now we’ll never speak again
What makes “Leonine” so moving is the way it mirrors our own struggles to carry memory and meaning forward. It reminds us that life rarely unfolds in perfect timing: That sometimes we arrive after the curtain has closed, or miss the chance we thought we were preparing for. And yet, even in disappointment, there is dignity in showing up, in daring to try, in honoring what came before us by moving boldly into the present. Wilding’s song lingers as a gentle challenge – to keep stepping into the light, even if the room is empty; to keep dancing, even if no one is watching; to keep loving, even when loss has hollowed us out. In this way, “Leonine” is not just a memorial, but a manual for resilience.
“Leonine” is dreamy and heavy, fleeting and infinite – a testament to memory, love, and the fragile freedom we find in pursuing what matters, even when we falter. Let this song hold you in its tender glow, a bittersweet hymn for grief, friendship, and the beautiful weight of being alive. Stream Luca Wilding’s latest work of art exclusively on Atwood Magazine!
So leave us nothing
Oh Leonine !
You once were a love of mine
And I was the voice in the night divine
I knew that he would never call
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Stream: “Leonine” – Luca Wilding
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