From Röyksopp to Joanna Newsom – a playlist of transformational music that feels like sun once the rain has stopped.

Is there a single word to describe the feeling of sunshine after rain?

Older, near-forgotten words in the English language capture something of its liminal essence. The Victorians referred to a rainbow as a “bow of promise”. It used to be that people called that one single sunbeam that breaks through thick cloud a “messenger”, the golden beam through shafts of grey a portent of things to come. The ancient 7th century word “gleen” referred to a sudden burst of warm sunshine, possibly related to the old Scandinavian word “glene” for a clear patch of sky. Then there’s “gleeny”, for when it’s intermittently sunny – that transitional weather that’s full of surprises and uncertainties with a hint of hope.

Hope. Such an important word. When the rain stops, the sun fights its corner. You can taste the air, and rays of sunlight in a rain-drunk world are filled with hope.

Here, then, is a playlist of music to echo sunshine after rain. A time of transformation; a veil of clouds pierced by golden shafts of good things to come.

Röyksopp – So Easy

Such a classic, and so well-named. It can be hard waiting for a mood to lift, or for the sun to come. Yet, when it does, it feels… well, how Röyksopp said it would feel.

Erik Satie – Gymnopédie No.1

If you listen to any track by 20th century composer Satie and don’t immediately think of Paris, black and white photos, music and art studios, leaning against a balcony railing to reflect on the street below, then the world is absolutely not the place it should be. Heart that piano; hear how, in the spaces between notes, it wells with nostalgia and becomes gorged on reflection. A mix of light and shade in one’s inner and outer being; a symphony in the musical equivalent of a collage of photos in faded colours and monochrome.

Vangelis – Abraham’s Theme

I find it impossible to choose just one track by Vangelis. His music soundtrack made Bladerunner what it is. He is a damn genius. And with that first piercing drawn-out note, like a song of whales, or a golden beam of light springing from the clouds as a messenger, he touches on that feeling of a world in stillness, fragile flowers weighted with dew, lifting their faces to the sun.

Joanna Newsom – Sprout and the Bean

Oh, incredible Joanna Newsom! A voice like embroidered silk, like the ribbons and bodies weaving in a May pole dance. Witness how her songs weave tapestries of all the things might have been, with motifs of milk and flowers and dancing bears. In Sprout and the Bean, Joanna plucks drops of rain from with the witchery of her harp, and her hallowed voice is sun after a spring shower.

Eliza Rickman – Pretty Little Head

The silver voice of Eliza Rickman will hold you spellbound. Plucked strings tug at the heart, tinkling, tiny but fierce like dew. And this song echoes the death of Marie Antoinette, with a lush Crowdfunded video to match. Death represents transformation in the Tarot. For me, hope is life and death intertwined. Backwards and forwards meet at the crossroads. Rain and sun each have the power to nurture and kill, and must work together as one. Hence, to me, a song of death – and one sung so prettily – is a perfect way to welcome sunshine after rain.

The Fifth Dimension – Aquarius Let The Sunshine In

Finally, it would be rude not to include The Fifth Dimension’s masterpiece. This incredible track was originally written for the 1967 rock musical Hair and when it gets to ‘Let the sun shine in’ the hairs on my arms shiver in delight and stand up in salutation.

This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius, darlings. Also: This rather feels like two songs in one, which is a Brucie Bonus.

Esoteric practice to welcome sunshine after rain

Take a moment to open a window or step outside and lift your face to the sky. Acknowledge the rain and sun and all they symbolise to you.

Drink deep, you seedling, you child of flowers. Have a glass of water and moisturise and/or apply sunscreen, hydrated like all hell and ready to bear the gaze of the eye in the sky.

Main photo: Eliza Rickman