Somewhere on a Greek island, in the middle of a hot summer, Tin Fingers set up their instruments in an old carpet factory. Four days. No long discussions, no endless takes. Just heat, sea air and the quiet pressure of time. The songs had already taken shape: written over three concentrated months by frontman Felix Machtelinckx on guitar, piano and vocals, now they simply had to breathe.
Those days on Hydra quietly shaped ‘Balconies’, the Antwerp band’s third album. There was a rhythm to it: recording in the morning, swimming in the afternoon, returning to the songs as the light softened. Fingers got sore, takes happened quickly, and decisions were made on instinct. Years of playing together made it possible to move fast, trusting first impulses instead of chasing perfection.
The title acts as a guiding image. A balcony is a place to pause and look out, to watch the world pass by without fully stepping into it. That perspective runs quietly through the album: hotel rooms, passing landscapes, brief encounters, and the feeling of always being slightly on the move. Not heavy, just observant, like keeping notes while travelling.
Chance also found its way into the process. During the Hydra sessions, another recording was taking place nearby, with Maggie Rogers contributing backing vocals to a project for the Dalai Lama. The band briefly asked her to record a spoken-word intro, but the interest was not mutual. The voice that eventually opens the album appeared later, on the flight home, when Machtelinckx struck up a conversation with an American journalist seated next to him. Somewhere between departure and arrival, ‘Balconies’ found its opening.
Back home, the songs kept that summer feeling. Sometimes loud, sometimes reflective, always moving. ‘Balconies’ sounds like a band capturing something in real time: a few warm days, a shared space, and the decision to simply press record.