Sheffield-born, London-based musician Samuel Virgo talks exclusively to Imminent Infinity about finding joy in uncertain times, knowing when to leave a song alone and why making music on his own terms matters more than keeping up with an algorithm.
There is something quietly defiant about calling a record Laughing in the Wilderness. The title holds two seemingly opposing ideas together: isolation and enjoyment, uncertainty and a determination to make the most of whatever comes next. For Samuel Virgo, that tension is not just a clever phrase. It reflects the way he sees his life right now.
“The world is a wild place and I am just having as much fun as I can [in] it,” he tells Imminent Infinity. “However, like anything there’s something quite lonely and uncertain about the idea of being in the wilderness, but laughing suggests you’re still finding moments of joy in the middle of it all.”
He expands on the thought: “Life can be confusing, uncomfortable and sometimes quite isolating, but there are still moments where you feel completely alive. To me, it’s about finding your own sense of happiness even when you don’t necessarily know where you’re going.”
That sense of trying to make something meaningful out of uncertainty provides a useful way into his latest project. Released on 23 October 2026, Laughing in the Wilderness brings together two EPs, Virgo and Virgo II. Although they arrived separately, Samuel says he never thought of them as unrelated releases.
“It was always the case from the beginning. That was my plan from the start. It was clear when I started I was looking at the songs as part of a bigger picture rather than individual releases.”
A sound that refuses to stay in one lane
Virgo’s music crosses indie rock, post-punk and hip-hop, but the movement between styles does not seem to come from a desire to demonstrate versatility. It is more straightforward than that: those are the sounds he lives with, and he lets them find their way into the songs.
“It’s quite natural for me. I’ve always listened to a lot of different music, so I don’t really approach writing with one particular genre in mind. I might start with a guitar idea, a drum pattern or even just a lyric, and see where it takes me.”
His independence stretches beyond the writing. Samuel wrote, produced and engineered the project himself, giving him the freedom to follow those ideas without needing to settle on a single musical identity. It also means making the difficult decisions about when a track is finished.
Our Slip Away review explored the strength of the writing beneath its understated arrangement. The song went through numerous rewrites, but Samuel’s answer when asked how he knows a song is finally telling the truth is less about perfection than perspective.
“For me, a song starts to feel right when I stop questioning every little decision and can just listen to it as a whole. Sometimes stripping things back helps you realise that the strongest part of a song was there from the beginning. You just have to get out of its way a little.”
It’s a thought that will be familiar to anyone who has spent too long adjusting an arrangement or second-guessing a recording. Sometimes the work is not adding something else, but recognising what the song already has. It’s a theme that also surfaced in our conversation with Rosie H Sullivan about finding the magic in imperfection.
Words, truth and the things we leave unsaid
Several songs on the project examine the gap between what happens and how people understand it. On The Word, something as small as a single word becomes capable of changing the meaning of a conversation. Samuel says there was no one dramatic incident behind it.
“I think it’s interesting how much weight we can give to something as small as a word. One thing said at the wrong time, or something left unsaid, can completely change how you understand a situation or another person. There wasn’t anything specific other than everyday conversations I have with people.”
ICU takes that interest in interpretation in another direction, looking at distorted narratives and the ways truth can become difficult to recognise. But Samuel does not draw a hard boundary between what is personal and what is happening outside his own life.
“I think the two are quite connected. Even when I’m writing about something happening in the wider world, I’m still approaching it through my own perspective and experiences.”
Those experiences have been shaped by two very different cities. Samuel grew up in Sheffield before making London his home. He does not suggest that every song can be traced back to a particular street or place, but neither does he see his upbringing as something left behind.
“I think Sheffield will always be part of how I see things. Growing up there gave me a certain perspective, and I think that naturally finds its way into my writing, even when I’m not consciously referencing it. London has definitely exposed me to different people, for better or for worse, and therefore different experiences come from that.”
Asked whether loud, energetic music makes difficult feelings easier to express, he gives perhaps the most enigmatic answer of the conversation.
“Nothing is deliberate and there are no accidents. Whatever is expressed gets expressed and anything else is left to chance.”
There is a certain consistency in that response. Rather than pinning every feeling to an explanation, Samuel appears content to let the music carry some of the meaning for itself.
Making music when everyone wants more content
Of course, the freedom to make whatever music you want exists alongside the less romantic business of getting people to hear it. Independent musicians today are often expected not only to write and record but also to promote, post and stay visible. Samuel is well aware of that pressure.
“There’s so much to keep up with, and sometimes it feels like you’re expected to be making music, creating content and promoting yourself all at once,” he says.
Yet he is clear about the limit he wants to put on those demands. “I’d rather take the time to make something I genuinely believe in than release music just because I feel I need to keep up with everyone else.”
He is not dismissing the importance of an audience. Quite the opposite: he wants people to connect with the music, but believes that connection is more likely to last if the work has an identity of its own. There is a difference between wanting to be heard and changing everything about yourself to make that happen.
What success really looks like
By the end of our conversation, Samuel is looking beyond this release. He wants to tour more, play bigger stages, travel through music and collaborate with artists he admires. Just as importantly, he wants to build a community around what he is creating — a sense of connection that also came through in our Bambambinos interview.
“For me, it’s being able to make music on my own terms and have it reach people who genuinely connect with it,” he explains. “I want to look back in a few years and feel like I’ve grown as an artist without losing the reasons I started making music in the first place.”
That ambition says something about what Laughing in the Wilderness is trying to communicate. Samuel hopes listeners will hear more than a collection of songs or a particular style of production. He wants them to find a little more of the person behind it — and perhaps something of themselves, too.
“If someone finishes listening and feels like they’ve discovered something about themselves as well as me, then that’s a great feeling.”
Perhaps that is the most convincing answer to the album’s title. The wilderness does not have to disappear before you find something worth celebrating. For Samuel Virgo, the point is to keep making music, keep finding connection and, where possible, keep laughing along the way.
