By cave Sometimes, the universe cues the soundtrack of our lives in the most unexpected ways.
I wasn’t expecting to have my breath taken away that Tuesday evening. I was simply watching Dagelijkse Kost, letting Jeroen Meus lull me into culinary contentment with a Georgian chicken in garlic sauce. But then—there it was. A whisper of a song in the background: fragile, melancholic, haunting. My fork hovered mid-air. I scrambled for Shazam.
Hold Me Now, it said. Artist: Floris Francis Arthur. I didn’t know the name. Yet somehow, it already felt personal.
Curious and slightly spellbound, I sent Floris a message, asking where I could find his albums on vinyl. I expected a link, maybe a polite thank-you. Instead: “Come pick them up at my place in Ghent.”
Two days later, I was ringing his doorbell, greeted by the very voice that had drawn me in. We chatted briefly—me, a little starstruck; him, warm and gracious. I left with two records under my arm and the surreal sensation of having stepped into someone else’s liner notes.
That was the beginning.
Listening to There Never Is And Never Was A Masterplan and Little Did I Know felt like uncovering an emotional journal stitched together with piano chords and hushed vocals. It’s music that doesn’t ask for attention—it quietly earns it. The themes are heavy: longing, anxiety, trying to make sense of a fractured world. And yet, there’s always light flickering between the shadows.
There Never Is And Never Was A Masterplan (2023)
With his first solo album as Floris Francis Arthur, Floris De Decker takes a radical turn.
Where he was once known for energetic indie rock and playful space pop, here he chooses a sober, intimate approach. The record feels like a diary: raw, honest, and unembellished. The tracks are built around voice, piano, or guitar, with minimal production and subtle touches like homemade percussion or layered harmonies.
The themes are heavy but sincere: anxiety, depression, destructive love, and the search for grounding in a chaotic world. Tracks like Hold Me Now (with backing vocals by Lara Chedraoui) and Love Like We Used To cut deep but linger thanks to their melodic power.
The influence of artists like Sufjan Stevens, Daniel Johnston, and Conor Oberst is noticeable, yet Floris crafts a voice of his own.
It’s not an easy listen, but one that rewards with beauty and recognition. It’s not a background album, but one that invites you to sit down and truly listen.
Little Did I Know (2025)
With his second album, Floris Francis Arthur shows more ambition and versatility.
Little Did I Know is a natural successor to his debut, but with broader sonic textures and a fuller sound. The lo-fi bedroom folk gives way to richer arrangements, a full band, and even orchestral elements. Still, the melancholy and vulnerability of his voice and lyrics remain central.
The songs were partly conceived in Tenerife, where Floris reflected on life and his position as an outsider. That birthed gems like It’s Love Again, a playful yet delicate opener, and What We Don’t Know, in which a children’s choir and bossa nova rhythms blend into something touching and unique. Waiting For America flirts with Beatles-esque bombast, while Apocaholism Now lingers with its tongue-twister title and haunting melody.
What makes this album so powerful is the balance between light and dark. The lyrics remain introspective, yet the music dares to sound bigger. It’s as if Floris is now presenting his inner world with more confidence.
https://www.discogs.com/release/34254208-Floris-Francis-Arthur-Little-Did-I-Know
Together, these two albums form an impressive diptych on vulnerability, growth, and artistic freedom. There Never Is And Never Was A Masterplan is the introspective confession, Little Did I Know the revelation. Floris Francis Arthur proves himself not only a gifted songwriter, but a master of translating emotion into music.
I’ve since read that Floris once fronted bands like Team William and Cloudy-Oh — playful, experimental, outward-facing. But under the name Floris Francis Arthur, he turns inward, crafting something deeply intimate and timeless.
His collaboration with Lara Chedraoui (of Intergalactic Lovers) adds yet another dimension. Just voice and piano, weaving familiar songs into something weightless, melancholic, and oddly healing.
And to think it all started with a cooking show. 🙂
These two records now live on my shelf, but more importantly, they live somewhere deeper—in that soft, private space where music becomes memory.
I can’t help but think: if background music can move you like this, maybe nothing in life is ever really “background.”