With a soulful, whiskey-soaked voice and a knack for vivid storytelling, Jon Allen has built a devoted following, amassing over 40 million streams and working alongside legends like Sir Paul McCartney and Mark Knopfler. Now, he unveils his most ambitious project yet—Seven Dials, an album steeped in the grit and drama of 18th-century London.
At the heart of this record is White Gold, a striking new single that transports listeners into the shadowy world of the era’s illicit sugar trade. More than just a historical tale, the song serves as a metaphor for desire, addiction, and the dangers of chasing something that could ultimately destroy you. “It’s about living on the edge—where the stakes are high, and every moment feels like a gamble,” Allen explains.
Blending folk rock, British roots, and rugged alt-country, Seven Dials captures the raw energy of a city teetering between survival and desperation—its themes eerily reflective of modern times. In this interview, Jon Allen takes us behind the making of the album, from the inspirations that shaped its evocative storytelling to the process of bringing its narratives to life on stage.
White Gold takes us deep into the gritty underworld of 18th-century London. What drew you to this setting, and how did you go about researching the black-market trade of that era?
I got hooked on this time period after a visit to The Bow Street Museum, located on the old site of the Bow Street Magistrate’s Court and Police Station. Standing in those old cells, reading about the Bow Street Runners—the first professional police force—I was fascinated by their fight against crime in such a lawless city. That’s where I first heard about the illicit sugar trade, often called White Gold. The phrase just stuck with me—it felt like the perfect title for a song.
You describe White Gold as a metaphor for desire, addiction, and high-stakes living. Was there a personal or modern-day connection that inspired this theme?
Definitely. 18th-century Soho was wild—you had to stay sharp to survive. And honestly, modern-day London isn’t so different. It’s still a place where people chase success, love, and money, sometimes at a huge cost. Whether it’s wealth, drugs, or relationships, temptation is everywhere. I wanted to capture that eternal struggle—how ambition can drive you but also destroy you.
The song really captures both the allure and the danger of chasing something intoxicating. How do you translate that kind of emotion into music and lyrics?
It all started with this gritty guitar riff that instantly set the mood. Then, Adam Skinner added these dark, brooding strings that made it even more intense. Lyrically, I approached it like a movie scene—I imagined a thief waiting at the docks for a shipment of stolen sugar, the tension of that moment. From there, I played with different perspectives, pulling the listener into the character’s temptations and moral dilemmas.
Your album Seven Dials is steeped in the desperation and survival instincts of old London. What made this time and place the right backdrop for your storytelling?
18th-century London was a city on the edge—overcrowded, unpredictable, and dangerous. Life could flip in an instant. That felt very relevant to modern London, where people are still hustling to carve out a life. If you look closely, crime and corruption are still lurking just beneath the surface. The past and present aren’t so different.
The themes of struggle and resilience in Seven Dials feel really timeless. Did you find any surprising connections between that era and today?
One of the biggest parallels is survival. Then and now, people were grinding—trying to make a living, get ahead, or just stay afloat. The wealth gap was massive, crime was everywhere, and bending the rules was often the only way to get by. London has always been a city of extremes, where success and failure exist side by side.
When writing a concept-driven album like this, do you start with the historical narrative or the emotions you want to convey?
It’s a mix. Sometimes a historical detail sparks an idea, but emotion is the real driver. I want the listener to feel the desperation, the thrill, the danger—not just hear a history lesson. The challenge is blending fact with feeling in a way that resonates.
Your sound is a mix of folk rock, British roots, and alt-country. How did you shape the sonic landscape of Seven Dials to fit its themes?
I wanted the album to feel raw and organic—something that felt both timeless and urgent. We recorded using a lot of analog techniques to capture that warmth. Musically, I drew inspiration from British rock bands like The Faces and Free—bands with a bit of grit. I also layered in some symphonic elements to give certain songs more scope and drama.
Your vocals have been compared to Paul Rodgers and Paolo Nutini. Are they influences, or do you draw from other artists as well?
I love singers with raw, soulful voices. Joe Cocker, Ray Charles, and Van Morrison were huge influences for me too. There’s something about that unfiltered emotion that just hits differently.
You’ve worked with legends like Sir Paul McCartney and toured with Mark Knopfler. Did those experiences shape this album in any way?
Absolutely. Working with musicians I’ve admired for years was inspiring—and really validating. One of the biggest lessons I took from Mark Knopfler was the power of restraint—knowing when to keep things raw instead of over-polishing. Writing with Paul McCartney was mind-blowing. Seeing how he works through a song, how he problem-solves creatively—it was a masterclass.
You’re hitting the road with The Luna Kings for a European tour. How does playing these songs live change your connection to them?
Playing live brings a whole new energy. There’s a rawness and spontaneity you just can’t get in the studio. Some songs take on a different feel—maybe a little rougher or more urgent—and that’s exciting. It keeps the music alive and evolving.
Do you approach storytelling differently in a live setting versus the recorded versions?
Yeah, for sure. On the album, it’s all about atmosphere and detail. But live, it’s about energy and connection. Sometimes I’ll strip a song down to its bones, or we’ll extend a section and let the band really dig in. The goal is to make it feel real and in the moment.
With an album so rooted in history, have you thought about incorporating visuals or stage elements to enhance the experience?
Definitely. We’re looking at using projections or stage design to create a sense of place—maybe old London street scenes or shadowy imagery that fits the mood. Anything that makes the audience feel like they’re stepping into that world.
How does Seven Dials compare to your previous albums in terms of ambition and execution?
This is my most immersive and concept-driven album yet. The storytelling is more deliberate, and musically, it’s more adventurous. I also think it’s my most cinematic work—I really wanted it to feel like stepping into another time and place.
What do you hope listeners take away from White Gold and the album as a whole?
I just want them to feel something. Whether it’s excitement, the groove of a song, or just getting lost in the story—I want it to pull them into that world and make them connect with the struggles and emotions of the characters.
Looking ahead, do you see yourself continuing with historical narratives, or are there other themes you’re eager to explore?
I’m always drawn to stories with depth, whether they’re historical or not. But there’s something powerful about using the past to reflect on the present, so I could definitely see myself continuing down that road. That said, I like to keep things open—who knows where the next album will take me?
