Annesofie Salomon is a Copenhagen based singer-songwriter and musician. Years ago as a geography and literature student, Salomon left school to find her own way. “I wanted to just write about nature, and to do that in a way that was personal as well as scientific.

According to the press release, Her writing soon transformed into paintings and sculptures with the natural world as their focus. Salomon applied to the Art Academy and was rejected, retreating to her studio by the ocean to work more and re-apply the next year. Again, she was rejected. After four applications, four rejections, and five years gone, Salomon carried her sculptures from her studio and dropped them into Copenhagen Harbour. “I think I was mad. I dumped it all in the ocean. Somehow it wasn’t working; writing about limestone, or using it.” With five years gone and nothing to show, she shed her skin again and retreated to the countryside to work on a farm and train horses.

We introduced her with the track “Soft Dreams”; “All Things” is the new song which is out now via TAMBOURHINOCEROS. Watch the official video below.

Salomon introduces the story behind the song: “When I was in my late twenties I found out that I have—and always have had—a few diagnoses. This new awakening shed a lot of light on memories from my childhood, teens and even adulthood, and it led to years of trying to fix myself with therapy and medication.

When I turned 30 I was numb. My mind, which had always been in motion with too many impulses, was suddenly still. I was told that this reaction, feeling like a numb, medicated zombie, would pass. That feeling never came.

I remember a specific autumn day when I was at the beach with my dog. Since my dog loves to swim, I have forced myself to become friends with the sea—the sounds, the smell and the feeling when overlooking it—but on this day, I couldn’t even hear the waves, I couldn’t catch any smells, I didn’t feel a thing. I was completely numb, and over the following days I said goodbye to Ritalin.

I felt like I was coming out of a coma. I welcomed back the noise in my head—the constant inside banging, the impulses—but I also welcomed back my friend, the sea—the smell of the ocean and the sound of the waves. I welcomed back never feeling really still again, but at least feeling something.