Mountain 'Divine' ft. Femi Temowo

The session began with a phone on a piano lid and a short memo that held a melody, a feel, and not much else. March 2024. East London. Mountain sang the contour under her breath. Femi Temowo listened twice and reached for a guitar. A low figure answered the topline. Bass tucked in behind it. Drums found a pocket that carried weight without crowding the voice. No prebuilt packs. No quick-fix edits. A song moved from sketch to structure because the choices were calm and exact.

'Divine' is direct. The writing places self respect at the start and lets everything else arrange around it. Mountain wrote during recovery from surgery, a stretch of quiet that sharpened how she hears time. The images are small and clear. A window cracked for air. Sun across a table after days of grey. A message typed, erased, and left for later. The lyric keeps its shape because it avoids big gestures and lands on detail. The hook states the point, then gets out of its own way.

Temowo’s production treats the vocal as the lead instrument. Guitar lines respond like a conversation partner who knows when to speak and when to hold back. The rhythm section keeps an even gait. Nothing sprints. Nothing drags. When a take arrives with the right grain, they keep it. When shine starts to flatten feeling, they step away from the polish. The mix leaves breath in the edges, a touch of room tone, a trace of heat where the voice leans closer to the mic. Those choices make the record hold on radio and in rooms with imperfect acoustics.

Mountain sings like someone who trusts her line. Tone first, timing close behind. She does not overdecorate. She places phrases where the groove wants them and lets silence carry weight between them. The clarity is what carries. Consonants land without bite. Vowels keep their length. The performance stays present at low volume and steps forward when the system comes alive. That control is earned from years in rooms that do not forgive drift.

Context matters because it sets expectation. South London is the ground she stands on. Early radio play on BBC Introducing, BBC Radio 1 and Jazz FM signaled that the work would travel. Support runs with Sister Sledge, UB40 and Soul II Soul supplied pressure and pace. Playlist placements on Jazz UK and New Music Friday extended reach. “Divine” does not chase that history. It behaves as if history is useful only when it teaches you what to ignore. The track sounds classic without leaning on retro cues. It sounds current without borrowing whatever is passing.

Structure keeps the floor. Short intro. Verse that sets terms. Hook that lands clean. A lift that raises temperature without shouting. An exit that lets the feeling ring rather than forcing a final flourish. The song is built to be placed. It works early in a DJ set to define tone. It works in the middle of a live show when attention is at its highest and you need a chorus that sticks without gimmicks. The instrumental stands on its own because the harmony carries sense without the lyric.

What the lyric says is simple. Care starts with yourself, or it frays. Love arrives with warmth worth leaning into, but warmth can burn if you stand too close for too long. These are plain truths delivered without sermon. They feel lived because the images come from days that most people recognize. Open the window. Put the phone down. Go outside when the light appears and notice that you feel different.

Production details keep earning their place on repeat listens. You can catch harmonic decisions that nod to jazz without turning the track into a lesson. You can hear the drum placement that keeps the low end tidy. You can hear a guitar voicing slide one fret and release tension in the line. The center never moves. The voice stays in charge.

It helps that Temowo is a musician with long memory and clean instincts. His credits reach from Amy Winehouse to Dee Dee Bridgewater, The Roots and Soweto Kinch. On 'Divine' that experience shows in restraint more than display. He plays inside the song rather than on top of it. He creates room for a singer who can carry a chorus without raising her voice.

The result is a single that feels useful. It suits a quiet morning and a late drive. It sits in a kitchen with low speakers and still makes sense. It holds a mid sized room because the pocket never loses its step. You can hear the work that went into making it sound unforced. You can also feel the confidence of two people who met once, built something true to the sketch, and knew when to stop adding.

Mountain has written stronger songs as her circle and craft have grown, but 'Divine' marks a clear point. This is the sound of a writer and singer choosing clarity over noise and finding a collaborator who understands that choice. The record does not strain for impact. It arrives with steady hands. It holds. And when it ends, the room feels a touch brighter, as if someone has opened the curtain half a foot and let the day in.