SHOPFIRES
Neil Hill
Some albums are made to dazzle. Others, like "We Are Not There But We Are Here", seem to simply exist quietly, honestly, and deeply, as if they’ve always been with you. Shopfires, the recording project of British songwriter Neil Hill, returns with a collection that’s both delicate and self-assured, weaving stories of memory, youth, distance and affection through the hazy light of jangly guitars and softly whispered melodies.
Released via Subjangle Records, the album draws on Hill’s roots in the West Midlands, evoking a very British emotional landscape, all crumbling council estates, unsaid feelings, and the space between what we meant to say and what was left hanging. This is nostalgic pop, yes. But not in a way that feels staged or curated. There’s no pose here, no retro gloss. Just lived experience, processed through humble arrangements, subtle reverb, and lyrics that often hinge on a single phrase. “There is beauty in sadness and reflection” he tells us and we’d agree. That quiet melancholy is not theatrical here. It’s earned.
Musically, the album embraces an unhurried, lo-fi intimacy that feels both instinctive and thoughtful. Tracks like “I Will Remember You” and “I Could Murder You” build their emotional weight through repetition, delicate layering and unexpected turns. You think you know where they’re going, and then they land somewhere slightly softer, or slightly sadder. The guitars often shimmer in the background like streetlights in drizzle, while vocals barely rise above a whisper, not from shyness but because that’s where they feel truest. It’s music with time to breathe. Music that doesn’t explain itself too much, yet still feels like a conversation with someone you trust.
What’s striking is how much of this project is shaped by restraint. Hill prefers to let the music speak for itself, even choosing not to include personal photographs for this article. That choice, like his songwriting, reflects a gentle detachment from self-promotion and a deeper devotion to honesty. Built in the small windows of time between work and family life, his songs are never rushed. “If it all ended tomorrow, I’d be okay with my humble achievements” he admits but that humility hides a quiet conviction: whatever he writes, he writes first for himself.
We caught up with Neil to talk about the stories behind "We Are Not There But We Are Here", the limitations that fuel his creativity, his bond with Subjangle founder Darrin Lee and what keeps Shopfires gently flickering forward.
We Are Not There But We Are Here by SHOPFIRES (out via Subjangle Records)
The Basement: Neil, congratulations on We Are Not There But We Are Here! What a beautiful, tender record. Do you remember where you were emotionally or mentally when you began writing it?
I think I approached this album with a little more cohesion. Thematically the songs, or at least the evocation of the songs, exist in a particular place and time for me. I was thinking back to the kids I knew growing up on a deprived council estate in the West Midlands. It wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision to have the songs reside in that landscape. It all came about quite naturally. Words and phrases appeared as if highlighted from an unfinished draft of a ‘coming of age’ novel. They offer an insight if not the complete story. In the end, I’m just another working class musician working around the edges. Always an outlier, never quite fitting in, seeing things, it felt to me, differently to everyone else at the time. And to a certain extent I still feel that way. I guess there is more of me in this album than the others.
The Basement: There’s something incredibly intimate in the way your melodies unfold. Almost like they’ve been written to be overheard late at night. How do you approach the act of songwriting? Is it structured, instinctive, or something else entirely?
A lot of the music I make is both instinctive and accidental. I am not the most gifted of musicians. Luckily I fell into a style and method of playing, which people seem to like, despite my limitations. On this new album I’ve deliberately scaled back the guitar lines to reveal more of the song. In the past I had a propensity to overplay the melodies. Packing 3 or 4 guitar lines into one song. I don’t feel I need to do that now. Although some of the recent singles still do have multiple lines seeped in reverb and delay.
The Basement: You’re based in Leicester, a city with a modest but fascinating musical undercurrent. What’s life like for you there, outside of music? And does the city seep into your songs, in one way or another?
Leicester is my adopted city. Having moved here over a decade ago. Born and bred in the Black Country. I am definitely more west than east midlands at heart. Originally from West Bromwich, I spent a number of years living in Birmingham before leaving for a slightly quieter city. The music I make resides squarely in my formative years. Particularly on the new album, where a number of the songs reference locations I knew as a young man, albeit obliquely.
The Basement: People often describe your sound as melancholic, which fits but I’m curious, do you see it that way? Or is that just how others frame it, while for you it’s simply what feels natural?
I think melancholia comes naturally to me. It can be a curse at times. There is a beauty in sadness and reflection. In broken and lost things. Juxtaposed with bright chiming melodies the words do appear occasionally dark and nostalgic. Although I don’t dwell on the words too much. A number of the songs have very few of them. Sometimes songs are built around just one line of lyric. On the track ‘Beware of Oncoming Traffic’ the line ‘now and then we would be friends, when I ignored all the things you said’ came first and the song kind of coalesced around it. A number of the songs appear fully formed and require very little alteration. I try not to overthink it. If listeners want to describe the sound as melancholic I’m OK with that.
The Basement: There’s a warmth and purity in your production that recalls the feel of classic UK indie labels. Do you feel a connection to labels like Sarah, Factory, or Creation Records, consciously or unconsciously?
I guess if you reside in the indiepop world comparisons to labels like Creation, Sarah, et al, is to be expected. I come from West Bromwich, the hometown of the Sea Urchins so there is a very tenuous connection. I see an affinity but I don’t make one. I did follow these labels in the 80s but I wasn’t an obsessive. My music tastes were many and varied and still are. I didn’t really return to indiepop until I started Shopfires really. But when I did finally return it felt natural and right.
The Basement: Tell us how you connected with Darrin Lee and Subjangle. How did that relationship start?
Darrin Lee from Subjangle approached via email a mere 10 days after I’d posted Summer Bruises on my newly activated Bandcamp account. Asking me if I had any more songs and if I did, did I want to put out an album on his Subjangle Label? At first I thought it was a spam email or something. I then googled Subjangle and found myself after a couple of refined searches on Darrin’s Janglepophub website. Where lo and behold there was a very positive review of Summer Bruises. My plan at the time was to release a few digital singles each backed with an instrumental and basically scratch an itch I’d had for years. Obviously Darrin had other ideas.
The Basement: I love how your songs feel unhurried, like they have time to breathe. Do you think this reflects something about your process, or even your life pace?
My limited musical ability and technical know-how kind of dictates how the songs turn out. I have a full time job and a family. So I snatch time here and there to piece the songs together. I’m never in a hurry to finish a track but ironically the songs do come together quite quickly. I enjoy repetition so I guess there is a comfort and familiarity in the sound which is both joyful and pleasing to the ear.
The Basement: Looking back at your earlier material, it seems like there’s a gentle evolution rather than a drastic shift. Do you feel your sound is slowly refining, or do you ever imagine doing something completely different one day?
I feel there has been a subtle incremental shift on this release, which was very organic and natural and not something I had to force myself towards. It’s been described by a few people as having a more mature grown up sound. Which I guess is true, although I’d shy away from calling it a serious album. There is still plenty of humour and playfulness in there. I did take a couple of risks with a few tracks moving away from the Shopfires signature jangle. But not too far.
The Basement: What does the project “SHOPFIRES” mean to you now? Is it a vessel for everything you want to express, or is it part of a broader creative life you’re still shaping?
Initially Shopfires was an exercise in proving to myself that I could write a half decent pop song. As time has gone on, I have concluded that I had it in me to write many more half decent pop songs. If it all ended tomorrow I’d be OK with my humble achievements, but I feel there is more to come. There will be no great reinvention. There will be continuing subtle incremental change.
The Basement: And finally, what’s next? Are there plans for live shows, future releases, collaborations or are you taking things as they come?
There are no plans at present for any live shows. Although I have been offered the odd support slot, it would be difficult for me to replicate the sound of Shopfires live on my own. As for future releases, there may be compilation of songs old and new of my other musical project Neuclouds in the offing. Watch this space. As for Shopfires, they will be back at some point in the not too distant future.
The Basement: Really appreciate you taking the time to share your world with us, it’s been a joy!
