A Cinematic Evening with Finlay Burrows and Ike Goldman.

By Hard of Hearing on May 26, 2026

We spoke with Finlay Burrows and Ike Goldman about their songwriting, old gallery catalogues and a shared love of Brian Wilson.

Finlay Burrows by Nina Winder-Lind | Words: Grace Palmer

Sitting in the hull of a boat moored along Canary Wharf, two singer-songwriters take the stage on a quiet March evening. As part of Theatreship’s guest events, the evening featured a solo performance by Finlay Burrows of The Cindys and a debut London show by Ike Goldman. Introduced by Bathtime Events as “champions of golden-aged blue-eyed soul”, both artists ushered us into worlds of silver screen scale. With ‘60s pop influences and sophisticated musical arrangements, Finlay and Ike make the stage their lectern, unveiling the stories closest to their hearts. Despite offering distinct musical styles, their friendship radiates throughout their performances. The two first connected in a serendipitous search for the original cast recording of Stephen Sondheim’s ‘Company’, a chance encounter that continues to resonate, culminating in an evening imbued with a rare kismet quality. I spoke with Finaly and Ike about their unique songwriting processes, eclectic inspirations, dream venues and performances and their shared admiration for a certain Beach Boys legend.

The Filmic Introduction: Finlay Burrows

Finlay Burrows is no stranger to the stage. As the singer/guitarist for The Cindys and a touring member of Naima Bock’s and Nina Winder-Lind’s bands, he is well-accustomed to performing live. Despite writing songs for many years and performing solo at work-in-progress events, he notes, “I’ve spent most of my life picking up the guitar and playing other people’s songs.” Presented at Theatreship was a compilation of songs Finlay had written in lockdown, which he adapted over time, including one he had composed the previous week. In his own words, “It’s a really varying span of stuff.” Moving seamlessly from piano balladsto sprawling guitar melodies and a touch of bluesy harmonica, his set is diverse, genre-defying, and untethered. Yet there remains a consistent thread throughout, a proclivity for storytelling, a filmic charm reminiscent of Harry Dean Stanton’s wandering Travis in ‘Paris, Texas’. As such, there appears to be two selves (or, as stated on the night, “two wolves”) to Finlay Burrows: one that allows him to “do guitar solos and jump around and play power pop”; the other that embraces the “’60s, ‘70s singer-songwriter pop side”. Mentioning his recent songwriting contribution to The Cindys, ‘(I Just) Can’t See You’, Finlay notes that having both his solo and band projects allows him to “indulge in both these interests”. In songs like ‘Sitting in My Room’, performed that evening, his pop sensibility rings true, offering us a passport to love and youthful exuberance. Though these two selves might seem opposite, they encompass a versatile performer, capable of traversing genres with considered skill and charm.

For Finlay, constructing a new song rarely starts with a specific melody, chord progression or lyric; it often begins with walking. “I realised it quite early on as a teenager. When I’m walking, that’s when ideas come to me. I’m in my own world, singing to myself.” At other times, inspiration arrives when he sits down at the piano and waits for the “melody and chords to come out”. When asked if this lingeringprocess affords him more freedom, Finlay partially agrees: “Yeah, but maybe it makes me less prolific because I’m not gonna sit down and just write a song. I just kind of wait till it comes.” Whether or not there is truth to this claim, the results of the contemplative approach are worth the wait. Written a week before his Theatreship performance, ‘Big Long Goodbye’ is perhaps the standout track of the evening. Alone on stage, with only a guitar for company, Finlay constructs a narratival epic, to whispers of “he’s such a good storyteller” amongst the audience. Whisked into the world of “Jim and Athena” and the tales of a lowly bus driver, ‘Big Long Goodbye’ lifts us from London’s chaos and invites us down its dusty desert road. Supported by a simple three-chord progression, this track is a charming lamentation on hope, reflection and the ennui of human experience. While Finlay may think that his unhurried approach to songwriting makes him less prolific, the songs showcased at Theatreship suggest otherwise.

Finlay Burrows by Nina Winder-Lind

For someone whose musical style ranges from folk and rock to musical theatre and country, his inspirations are equally varied. Tasked with choosing a particular performance from history he would revisit, Finlay’s answers are as dichotomous and balanced as his music. He first names The Band’s The Last Waltz as a worthy contender, praising the “infinite amount of great musicians on stage”. Moments later, he suggests any Velvet Underground performance: “Different, but in the same ballpark of having a good time and rocking out.” This duality is at the heart of Finlay’s process; approaching each song uniquely, with an unmistakable desire to have a good time. ‘Finlay’s Ear’, written in 2024 with friends, encapsulates this passion for music. The most personal of his songs from the evening, that song is imbued with wit and irony. With its infectious hook, it is hard not to share in the joy that radiates from a Finlay Burrows performance.

As much as Finlay is the songwriter, he is equally the storyteller. He explains, “If I get a narrative, I know what is going to happen in the song, rather than making up something abstract.” Citing figures such as Bob Dylan, Harry Nilsson, Randy Newman and Brian Wilson as key influences along with pop icons like Gene Pitney and Lou Christie – jokingly grouping, “anyone who uses major seventh chords” – it is evident that the wide-ranging performer has a wide range of influences. Yet, what marries them together is they are “good story song people.” Beyond his musical inspirations, Finlay mentions the New York Museum of Modern Art’s ‘The Family of Man’ Catalogue from 1954 as a prominent resource for his writing. “I go through it a lot,” Finlay reveals. “These photos are in sections like childhood, old age, city, countryside, and I sit with them for a while. I’m making up stories in my head as to who the person in the photo is, what’s going on with their lives.” There’s a hint of Ansel Adams’ style in Finlay’s world-building, as seen in the performances of ‘You’ and ‘Letter to a Friend’. Just as Adams captured the American West, Finlay’s songs are vignettes of times gone by – moments of people and places existing only within his songs, just out of reach.

Wrapping up our discussion, I asked what we can expect next from Finlay. In jest, he mentions an upcoming performance at Theatreship which is 15 minutes away. Aside from that, he feels, “The logical thing would be to record some of my music, which I’ve never done.” Finlay is someone who thrives performing live and acknowledges “I’ve done more of live than recording.” He does, however, “really enjoy getting into the studio, so hopefully there is more of that in the future.” One of London’s finest singer-songwriters, Finlay Burrows, is an artist whose songs are a filmic world unto themselves. Concluding his set with ‘Matinée’, Finlay draws the curtain call on his Theatreship performance, leaving us looking forward to further performances down the line.

Ike Goldman by Ike Goldman

The Theatrical Second Half: Ike Goldman

Glasgow-based singer-songwriter Ike Goldman defies easy categorisation. Marking their first London show, the Theatreship performance conjured a world far beyond the stage, full of demolished theme parks, musings on Disneyland and heartfelt odes to Brian Wilson. Composed of upbeat, sweeping piano melodies with acoustic, guitar-driven tracks, Ike’s set is infused with biting humour and confessional songwriting. Backed for the night by Otis Jordan (drums), Della Dolvinsky (bass) and occasionally Finlay on guitar, Ike transformed Theatreship’s cosy performance room into a West End spectacle. While the set featured songs from their latest record, ‘Kiki Goldman in How I Learned to Sing for Statler and Waldorf’, Ike shared that most of the evening’s tracks were fresh additions totheir repertoire. For Ike, songwriting isn’t about introspection. Or rather, it is less about self-reflection and more about the things they like. On writing ‘Kiki Goldman’, they admit, “I don’t know if I have a process, I don’t tend to have anything in mind.” Their music traverses eras, people and objects, seldom anchored to a specific reference point. “Sometimes I’ll read something that gives me a thought,” Ike states, “but often I usually just start saying something and go from there.” This natural spontaneity, paired with lyrical wit, gives tracks like ‘Reflection on a Landy’ and ‘Pad with a View’ their distinctive charm. Watching Ike at the piano, one cannot help but notice something of Randy Newman in their balance of bold piano melodies and imaginative storytelling.

Tasked with recommending a song for new listeners to begin with, Ike delivers a characteristically unexpected answer: “None of the ones that are currently available – I’d tell them to e-mail me. That’s better.” This reluctance is partly due to the time it takes them to complete each record. Although Ike has been uploading their music online since 2022, amassing a vast catalogue, they consider the earlier stuff “old news.” As Ike puts it, “I really like my old albums, but that’s not somewhere to start. It’s not representative of my current stuff.” Attendees at Theatreship were fortunate to experience a myriad of new material, each track revealing another transitional stage for the musician. Still, this is not to say that Ike’s earlier works should be overlooked. Performed near the close of the set, ‘Land of Tomorrow’ (a highlight from their previous record) is an atmospheric wonderland, full of rich instrumentation. As the song builds in tempo, Ike invites us into the world where their music is born, bringing us into “the land of tomorrow”.

With plush red seats and an intimate stage, Theatreship is seemingly the perfect setting for an Ike Goldman performance. Yet, Ike’s grand musicality and cinematic flair could easily fill the mainstage of the Sondheim Theatre as much as they could the smallest screening room in the remotest town. When asked about their dream venue (ignoring constraints of time, place and feasibility), they immediately answer “the crucifixion of Christ,” a suggestion they swiftly retract: “I don’t like it, I want to take it back.” Instead, they offer the Titanic, wryly acknowledging “it’s a lot of disasters I’m going for.” Ultimately, Ike lands on a more grounded wish: “None of them, or maybe a basement Halloween party in America – I like those shows.” Though there was no Titanic-level catastrophe aboard the Theatreship that evening, Ike’s performance would be a worthy balm for such an event. Between each track, they pause to introduce, reflect and joke, turning the performance into more than just a showcase of songs, the musician drawing back the stage curtain in honest self-portrait.

One influence recurs throughout the evening, found in the music, the stories and perhaps, if you look hard enough, in presence. Beach Boys founder, Brian Wilson (beyond being a source of inspiration for both the evening’s performers), is an essential component of Ike Goldman’s set. Alongside songs like ‘Half a Xanax/Brian Phone’ that address Wilson directly, Ike has embarked on an ongoing project dedicated to the Beach Boys member. “The original concept was to do a biopic album, inspired by things like musical theatre. Sort of like the intended Prefab Sprout biopic album for Michael Jackson.” Over time, the project has evolved, with Ike revealing that it has become less a tribute to the musician and more entangled with their own identity. “I’ve cared about Brian Wilson for a long time,” they recognise. “To a big degree, he can have a strong effect on my mood. Not just my music, but reading about him, his life.”

Ike’s music is not simply a pastiche of ‘60s rock-pop, but rather a response to the emotional and artistic force of a character beyond his musical output. For Ike, the biopic album is now, “More about me than it is Brian Wilson. The first half is this biopic; the second half is Brian and me essentially discussing the first half.” Working on this biopic album alongside more personal material has had an indelible effect on Ike’s songwriting: “When you take any one topic, you can ultimately find a way to write a song about anything. There are times when you want to write about something you’re feeling. It’s very easy when the scope of a thing is a whole person’s life, to find any way to apply yourself to them, or at least Wilson in my case.” From this close unity emerge songs that feel both surreal and deeply personal, forging a dialogue between two distinctive, yet somehow intertwined, artists.

As our interview draws to a close, Ike puts out a call: “Release my album”. Having recently finished their previous album project, Ike now eagerly awaits its release. “I made this demo, which I have a couple of tapes of. Now I just need somebody to hear it.” On the night, they performed two of the songs from this forthcoming album, showcasing Ike’s lyrical ingenuity as they transform abstract subjects into personal reflection on selfhood and life in all its unpredictability. Ike Goldman is a rarity amongst singer-songwriters, unafraid to venture into the unconventional. Blending theatricality, melody, and a touch of the bizarre, Ike Goldman’s live performances are a unique, theatrical joy.