An intimate and expansive meditation on love, nature, time, and the metaphysical, Peter Doran’s latest album ‘All the World Is Running on a Mystic Code’ is a luminous, living prayer – one that doesn’t ask for answers, but dares to embrace the mystery.

Stream: ‘All the World Is Running on a Mystic Code’ – Peter Doran

In a world constantly seeking clarity, Peter Doran offers something far more essential: Wonder.

With All the World is Running on a Mystic Code, the Irish singer/songwriter opens the door to an inner sanctum of vulnerability and cosmic curiosity, where emotions swell and silence speaks. It’s a record that feels like a sacred ritual, one stitched together with memory, mythology, and the quiet awe of simply being alive.

All the World Is Running on a Mystic Code - Peter Doran — All the World Is Running on a Mystic Code – Peter Doran

Doran, whose voice carries the weathered grace of someone who has watched the world fall apart and find its rhythm again, isn’t new to crafting songs that linger. But All the World is Running on a Mystic Code is something else entirely. It’s his most ambitious work to date, texturally richer, thematically braver, and emotionally deeper. These are songs that float like prayers but hit like truth.

Opening track “Mystic Code” sets the tone immediately: Hushed acoustics meet swirling atmospherics, as Doran muses on life’s sacred order, or lack thereof. The production, sparse yet immersive, wraps around the listener like fog at dawn, beautiful, elusive, and impossible to hold.

At its core, this is an album about transition. It was born out of a moment of intense personal uncertainty, when Doran was awaiting news of his wife’s prenatal scan during the pandemic. That moment unfurls in “Clockwork,” a masterclass in restrained storytelling. The song walks the line between fear and faith with haunting elegance, mapping his emotional landscape against the literal streets of Mullingar. “You’re nervous at the other side of town, but our fortunes are changing,” he offers, less a reassurance, more a mantra. Every word feels earned. Every silence, deliberate.

What makes All the World is Running on a Mystic Code so arresting is not just the songwriting, it’s the sonic world Doran constructs around it. There’s a tactile quality to this album; you can almost feel the breath between verses, the wooden resonance of strings, the soft rustle of wind in the background. It’s no accident. With collaborators like Nicky Brennan (Picture This), Fiachra Kinder (Hozier), and cellist Gerard Toal, the record never overstates itself. It flows, pulses, whispers.

Songs like “Floodlights” and “Willow” shine with the kind of melodic stillness reminiscent of Nick Drake or Sufjan Stevens in his quieter moments. They are deeply visual pieces, painting the Irish landscape not just as scenery, but as a co-narrator. Nature isn’t background, it’s memory, metaphor, mirror.

Then there’s “Never Say Goodbye,” perhaps the emotional centerpiece of the record. With its maritime motifs and haunting refrain, “God bless the now and evermore,” it feels eternal, like something pulled from the bottom of the ocean or the edge of a dream. The accompanying filmic music video by Josh Wagner only deepens the experience, grounding the song’s ethereal qualities in elemental imagery.

But Mystic Code is not all hush and heartbreak. There are moments of experimentation and play, too. “Steamboat Captain,” co-written with local legend Jimmy Broder, veers into avant-folk territory, blending off-kilter rhythms with poetic surrealism. It’s a reminder that while Doran is often reflective, he’s never stagnant.

In fact, much of this album is about movement: The turn of seasons, the turning of wheels, the spinning of stars and lovers.

“The Lover’s Wheel” closes the record not with resolution, but with openness. There’s no neat bow here, no cathartic explosion, just a gentle turning back to the world, changed.

Doran’s voice throughout is a revelation. Neither forceful nor fragile, it moves with intention. It’s the kind of voice you trust, not because it’s perfect, but because it feels lived-in, human. There’s a quiet reverence to how he sings, like each note is both a release and an offering.

Complementing the album is a short film directed by Conor English, featuring intimate live performances shot around Westmeath. More than a visual companion, the film feels like part of the album’s DNA, another way into its world, another path through the forest.

Peter Doran doesn’t just write songs, he maps experiences. He names what we often can’t. And with All the World is Running on a Mystic Code, he reminds us that the real beauty of being alive lies not in understanding everything, but in being present with the mystery.

It’s an album that doesn’t shout. It doesn’t demand. It simply opens its hands.

And somehow, that feels radical.

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