Stillness Holds The Fire is a quiet, midnight record—music made for the hour when the noise drops away and the heart finally speaks.

Born out of prayer, ache, and long pauses rather than polished certainty, this album lives in the space between breath and belief. It is jazz-inflected and blues-soaked, but never busy. The piano listens as much as it plays. The saxophone doesn’t rush to explain itself. Silence is treated as an instrument, not an absence.

These songs are not declarations. They are vigil lights. They sit with doubt without trying to fix it, and they trust that something holy still burns even when everything looks dark. This is music for empty churches, late kitchens, hospital corridors, long drives, and the moments when faith feels more like endurance than triumph.

Stillness Holds The Fire doesn’t ask you to be cheerful, certain, or resolved.
It asks only that you stay.
That you don’t move on too quickly.
That you hold the note, hold the word—
and let what remains be enough.

StillnessHoldsTheFire

Stillness Holds the Fire

Unsearchable

Echoes of the Eternal

The Weight of Glory

Mercy in the Midnight

Beneath the Ashes

The Hidden Face

Closer Than My Breath

Shadows Bend Toward Light

Where Silence Meets the Sky

Songs in an Empty Church is a collection of late-night pieces written for spaces that remember prayer long after the people have gone home.

This album lives in the hush between echoes: a piano bench still warm, a saxophone holding a breath a second longer than expected, dust motes drifting through stained glass light. It draws on jazz, blues, and gospel language, but strips them back to their bones—no applause, no congregation, just sound and silence in conversation.

These are not performance pieces. They are listening pieces.
Music for when the building is empty but not abandoned.
When faith feels quieter, darker, more questioning—yet still present.

Improvisation moves slowly here. Melodies linger. Notes are allowed to ache.
There is space for doubt, reverence, grief, grace, and the kind of hope that doesn’t shout.

If you’ve ever sat alone in a church after everyone has left—
or believed something deeply without needing to explain it—
these songs already know you.

SongsInAnEmptyChurch

Deep Blue Hours

This Is Church: Gospel Jazz Revival 1 is not a tribute to the past.
It is a revival in motion.

This album sits where gospel truth meets jazz freedom—where testimony swings, prayer improvises, and the Spirit is trusted to move without a running order. These songs draw on the deep wells of church, blues, and jazz, but they refuse to be boxed in by nostalgia or polish.

Here, gospel doesn’t shout—it grooves.
Jazz doesn’t perform—it listens.
Revival doesn’t wait for permission—it arrives quietly, then changes the room.

Piano, saxophone, voice, rhythm, and silence work together like a congregation that knows when to speak and when to stand still. There is space for joy, lament, conviction, and grace. Faith is present, but never forced. The music breathes. The message lands when it’s ready.

This is church for late nights and early mornings.
For believers, seekers, doubters, and the tired faithful.
For anyone who knows that revival doesn’t always come with noise—but it always comes with truth.

This is Church.
This is Gospel.
This is Jazz.
And it’s alive.

ThisIsChurchJazzReviva

Good News Breakthrough

Exclaim in Anthems is a collection of declarations set to rhythm and breath.

These are not quiet prayers. They are spoken truths—sung, played, and repeated until they take hold. Drawing on gospel conviction, jazz phrasing, and contemporary worship language, this album treats music as proclamation: faith that stands up, names itself, and refuses to whisper.

Anthems here are not about volume. They are about weight.
Each piece carries resolve—joy with backbone, hope with teeth, praise that knows the cost of belief. Melodies rise, rhythms drive forward, and space is used deliberately, allowing the message to land before moving on.

This is music for gathering and for resolve.
For walking into the day, not drifting through it.
For moments when faith is not reflective, but declarative.

Exclaim in Anthems calls listeners to stand, to speak, and to remember what they believe—whether in a room full of people or utterly alone.

H Donaldson Hunter

Popular tracks