brit awards

Joining the likes of FKA Twigs, Addison Rae, and Jade who discovered the only way to survive 2025 was to dance, Londoner Rose Gray is saving rave 120bpm at a time with her infectious take on 90s underground EDM meets turn-of-the-millennium pop. Currently swapping clubland for La La Land to write the follow-up to debut album Louder, Please, life for this BRITs 2026 Critics’ Choice nominee is about to move a whole lot faster over the next 12 months.

Somewhere deep in Hackney, pre-drinks are flowing; soon a stroll by the canal will lead a group of friends to a former warehouse where its throbbing baseline bleeds into the night. As glasses are filled someone hits play on the soundsystem and whilst chatter rises in anticipation, Rose Gray utters the word ‘Damn’ and a whopping dose of techno breakbeat lifts the pre-club ritual like a Bat-Signal to revellers everywhere the party has just begun.

“Playing so many shows last year made me understand the importance of making people feel good… it’s magic. It’s like being a
conductor, I have to work on the energy I’m receiving as well as what I’m giving out. It’s powerful stuff.”

Five thousand miles across the Atlantic, the real Rose’s head may be buried in writing the follow-up to her debut album Louder, Please but between sessions, wild nights out with her North London crew remain at heart. “I’ve always loved going out and still do when I can. My friends put on nights, they DJ, they’re the nightlife of London! Last year I didn’t have time to go clubbing as I used to; I was playing instead, behind decks, or on stage. It was interesting to be on the other side of it,” she recalls down the line from Los Angeles, where she is spending a month reuniting with co-writer Justin Tranter (Lady Gaga, Chappell Roan) plus Swedish producers Mattman & Robin. Oh, and preparing to play just a small show… a Grammy party. “The guests probably won’t know who I am!” Rose laughs, “But there’s a creative energy with so many talented people in such proximity. I make really good music when I’m here, so it’s become like my second home.”

A hedonistic explosion of uplifting electronic escapism, last year’s debut Louder, Please throbs with the euphoria of freedom, falling in and out of lust, love, and everything in between. Moving the listener through each room of Rose’s own dance-pop universe, it is like a portal to Y2K Ibiza with feet firmly pounding the dancefloor in 2026. Mixing electro into deep house and early hours techno with the shimmer of Light Years-era Kylie’s diamante pop, Rose’s club space is where all concerns, doubts and fears are left in the worry room, before tucking the ticket in your wallet, shoe, or bra to later forget. “My music is feel-good, but it’s also introspective. I make it because I need to,” she explains. “My lyrics can be deep, but they’re cushioned in beautiful synths and strings.”

You can see numbers moving on social media but to have three thousand people singing songs back to you is like yeah, this is real.”

For this reason, Rose has captured attention of the BRITs’ Critics’ Choice panel; hidden depths behind high-end production, affirmations offering a much-needed dose of dopamine right now, and a whirlwind year of massive shows, shutting down festival tents, and one-in-one-out club queues. “If I’d told myself a year and a half ago, I was gonna be a BRIT nominee I don’t know if I’d have believed it was possible,” she says, “everything was happening so gradually.”

It may seem roses came up in a short space of time, but this success story arrives no sooner than a decade in the making. Creating music and singing in her local jazz club, Rose dropped out of college upon being offered what seemed a good record deal before realising it was not. “Trusting the process has become a theme for my entire career really,” she says. “Before the album’s release I was frustrated, my career didn’t feel secure, but I just kept making music and pushing through. I’m glad it’s all worked out. It’s reassuring to know the resistance I built and force I had to get the album out was all for a reason.”

After finding her people on nights out at London’s Colour Factory and working at warehouse party Fabric, Rose began channelling her love for musical theatre and classical vocal training by exploring her voice over experimental tracks. Early song ‘Save Your Tears’ features a sample from Primal Scream’s Screamadelica, and her storytelling truly comes alive through the album’s ‘Hackney Wick.’ Something which is creeping into the current writing sessions. “I’m falling back in love with my voice, experimenting with what it can do. Yesterday I wrote a song I’m so excited about; we’d been working on it for hours then Mattias and Robin started playing these ethereal chords, real ‘Like A Prayer’ vibes. This beautiful song from industrial heavy club beginnings came together in the last 25 minutes of the session. I love being in the studio, you never know what can happen, things can switch up really quickly.”

It’s a sound which won’t be confined to the studio for long. Having played no fewer than 79 shows last year, including supporting Confidence Man and a summer riding out electrical storms on tour with Kesha, Rose is excited to get back on the road. “Playing so many shows last year made me understand the importance of making people feel good… it’s magic. It’s like being a conductor, I have to work on the energy I’m receiving as well as what I’m giving out. It’s powerful stuff.” You might even say the record’s huge club banger ‘Wet & Wild’ became unwittingly prophetic. “There were some crazy shows; I was doing a live PA at a party called Howl on one of the hottest days of the year, condensation was dripping onto me, and my decks were soaking wet.” When Rose’s travels took her to South America towards the end of last year, that heat reached fever pitch. “The shows in Brazil blew my mind, I didn’t know people could party like that. I got recognised, people waited outside my hotel, they knew the record back to front… it was mad, I felt like Madonna! You can see numbers moving on social media but to have three thousand people singing songs back to you is like yeah, this is real.”

Then there was that album cover. Inspired by images of 90s beach scenes, Rose affectionately calls it ‘The Scream.’ Edvard Munch is not so much turning in his grave as joining the rave with fans around the world recreating the sleeve and tagging Rose into their Instagram stories alongside photos of Hackney Wick buses – an act of solidarity she’s happy to share. “I’m not departing the Louder, Please world just yet, I want to stay there a while longer, but I have so much more to say; I’ve been travelling so much, meeting so many new people… my life has really changed so there’s a lot to write about.”

Rose might currently be a Londoner in LA, but the BRITs new Manchester home is familiar territory. “I love my rave, so when I think of Manchester, I wish I could have gone to the Hacienda. I’ve played some wicked shows in the city; Gorilla in October was a very good show. To me Manchester’s like the dance capital of the UK.” The only place missing from Rose’s world right now? A chill-out space: “In the 90s there was always a chillout room serving juices, light snacks with trip-hop and cushions,” she says. “In Berlin they have this, but it should exist in the UK too, everyone needs to take a break sometimes.” For now, the comedown will have to wait. With shows in Australia, Europe, London, USA, and Canada before festival season, that’s a mighty number of pre-drinks to crank up the volume on. But with album number two in the offing, Rose is ready; let the party commence.

This feature appeared as a beautiful printed article, in The Rodeo magazine’s official BRIT award special edition zine, published February 2026.

From life in Fife to winner of BRITs’ 2026 Critics’ Choice award, Jacob Alon’s ascent, they say, has been “mad in beautiful ways.” Carrying their childhood self with them on their meteoric rise, their divine-meets-physical world of debut album, In Limerence proves it isn’t always the loudest voices which get heard, sometimes it’s those who climb quietly with grace.

It is 10.30pm under a Texan moon. Below the spotlights of Austin’s Creek and Cave backyard stage, Jacob Alon is mid-discussion with the sound tech. Furrowed brows suggest something’s amiss before Jacob’s dulcet Scots burr offers the gentlest apology: “We’ve tried everything and just can’t make it work,” they tell the audience down the mic. Landing in the heart of music industry bedlam that is South by Southwest where genres collide as they bleed into the air, tonight’s Scotland Showcase is no exception as the rock band next door unintentionally drown Jacob out. “I’d been awake for 30 hours and was looking forward to the show, so when it didn’t work, I was so
disappointed,” Jacob recalls sadly, one afternoon twelve months later, before filming their debut Graham Norton TV performance.

“Softness and vulnerability can be bold and powerful; I’ve found sometimes the quieter you play, the more people listen.“

Clearly the noise of support for Jacob’s world has grown louder, only this time they are cutting through it their own way. Whilst aggravated punks yell frustrations of injustice, Jacob takes down the opposition like a daisy in a gun; delivering their soul-bearing storytelling with heavenly delicacy. Yet, recalling Nick Drake, Jeff Buckley, or Patrick Wolf with a dash of glitter or feather here and there, their enchanting stage presence is anything but understated. “In the face of hatred and violence, tenderness can be radical, so I wonder if others are feeling that” they consider of their growing appeal. “Softness and vulnerability can be bold and powerful; I’ve found sometimes the quieter you play, the more people listen. I treasure those moments where space is held for that;
it’s beautiful because it requires more from a collective of people to come together to maintain a still order, rather than giving in to chaos and entropy. To hold and be in that moment makes something so worthwhile for everyone. It’s literally a conversation with the audience.

Audiences have certainly taken notice. With only a week’s warning, Jacob – a barefooted vision of Icarus wrapped in scarlet with pants of golden plumage – found themself following in the footsteps of fellow Fifer KT Tunstall, performing debut single ‘Fairy In A Bottle’ on Later.. with Jools Holland. “I was given a chance; it was surreal but special; like climbing inside a TV screen” they recall. Since then whether passing instruments around secret campfire sets at festivals, European shows with Olly Alexander, or George Michael duets with Kae Tempest on tour, Jacob’s life has become as rousing as their performances – on stages always adorned with flags of Palestine and the Trans community. “Our world is so abrasive and brutal right now, I want to scream” they say. “Maybe what I do next will be charged with that anger. Recently, in some moments of despair, I’ve been listening to Nirvana’s In Utero. It’s so cathartic, I’m finally angry enough to understand it.”

“I didn’t think this world had any space of belonging for someone like me; especially where I came from, there’s a limit for how high you should dare to dream. Now it’s like I’ve broken through about 15 ceilings.

Now, awards from Rolling Stone to becoming shortlisted for Scottish Album of the Year and a Mercury prize have paved way for a BRIT award. “It’s so lovely to have the recognition,” they say. “I didn’t expect this sort of music to find a place in the mainstream, but I’m grateful it has.” News of the BRIT prize came when environmental concerns led Jacob on a failed hunt for a universal vape adapter to the Ibrox stadium. “On my way home, feeling defeated by capitalism, consumerism, and corporate greed, I heard this distant chant – hundreds of Rangers fans spilling out of the stadium. I ran to the station to avoid a train packed with football supporters. My manager called telling me I’d won. It was quite dramatic.”

Growing up in Fife meant less drama. A place with little opportunity for aspiring musicians, Jacob turned to music only after exploring other ambitions, including a career in medicine. “I’ve learned there’s other ways to heal people; music has helped me a lot. It might not be invasive life-saving procedures, but it’s what I can do,” they say. When the pandemic hit, it became time to re-evaluate life decisions; Edinburgh beckoned. “I’d decided ‘fuck it, I’ll just make music for myself, live in this van, work to get by and live honestly doing something I love,’” they recall.

It was there, as lockdown began to lift, Jacob stumbled across a group of musicians on the street standing two metres apart; they were at once welcomed into the circle of trust with open arms. “This group of lovely people, old folkies, all ages, were singing songs and passing around a guitar, sanitising it between players. They waved me over and asked me to do a song. They were so receptive and encouraging; my first real audience.” With restrictions easing. Jacob joined them for sessions at Captain’s Bar to test new material. “That’s where I learned to love performing and be less afraid of giving and losing myself in the moment.”

Losing yourself pervades In Limerence. The heartbreakingly fragile pay-off at the end of ‘Confession’ seamlessly blends into a soaring powerful vocal alongside the Bright Eyes guitar of ‘Elijiah.’ It captures a liminal fantasia which lingers hours after awakening; a dream which wrestles with limerence’s spell of reimagining the idea of someone outside of reality. Recorded with producer Dan Carey (Fontaines D.C., Grimes), quick experimentation is taken to new levels; reflecting the blurred lines of Jacob’s friend Rory’s blended watercolor artwork, the perfect amount of glitchy imperfection keeps it honest. “Dan’s a musical force, working with him was the greatest joy,” they say. “We hit it off immediately, sharing curiosity about physics and math… he’s so funny, I trust his instinct; we’ve become great friends.”

Helping their mum move house at the time of recording, like unearthing hidden treasure, Jacob discovered a collection of unlabeled video tapes capturing a young Jacob in animated conversation. Just as the album reveres youth, purity, innocence and wide-eyed wonder, it formed the basis for Jacob’s favourite track, ‘Home Tapes’ – a natural connection to the ‘Zathura’ story from their childhood. “Witnessing these threads of limerence offered an explanation to those early attachment styles. It felt right to include that idea of memory and suspended longing within the record.” Entirely improvised, Jacob selected audio clips from nine hours of footage, giving timestamps to Carey who triggered the samples whilst Jacob played guitar. “It was born in a moment of magic; afterwards we laid on the studio floor to listen; I cried, it was like I’d healed something wounded in me.”

If they could time-travel, telling young Jacob about the year they’ve had, how would they react? “I didn’t think this world had any space of belonging for someone like me; especially where I came from, there’s a limit for how high you should dare to dream. Now it’s like I’ve broken through about 15 ceilings. In moments of surrealness like playing on Graham’s show tomorrow, I’m going to take my younger self with me, show them around, have fun and appreciate the moment.”

If 2025 was a roadmap, Jacob’s inner child will need to buckle up for 2026. Having just announced a London Roundhouse headliner to give In Limerence one final send off before laying it to rest, more ceilings will surely shatter as Jacob dials up the volume for those at the back. “I’d love to keep fighting the good fight, use my voice for activism and use this platform for good,” they say. It should come as no surprise; after all, it is the quiet ones you have to watch.

This feature appeared as a beautiful printed article, in The Rodeo magazine’s official BRIT award special edition zine, published February 2026.