There’s something undeniably thrilling about an album that shouldn’t exist anymore — a collection of songs lost to time, revived by determination, and dressed in new sonic threads. Lost and Found, the long-awaited debut full-length from Gillan Edgar, arrives May 1, 2025, not just as a vibrant new record but as a resurrection. More than a decade after the bulk of its initial recordings, the album finally steps into the light, bursting with energy, charm, and the craftsmanship of a power-pop obsessive who’s been quietly perfecting his sonic vision in the backrooms and boudoirs of Manchester.
What makes Lost and Found so magnetic is the way it captures the unfiltered spirit of a full band, all while being performed, tracked, and mixed primarily by Gillan himself. Think McCartney’s Ram, or the lo-fi intimacy of Elliott Smith, filtered through the psychedelia-tinged polish of Jeff Lynne and the melodic precision of Elvis Costello. It’s that rare blend of meticulous solo artistry and infectious group energy — a one-man band with the soul of a five-piece.
From the opening moments of “Mr Inconsistent,” Gillan sets the tone with punchy rhythms, shimmering guitars, and vocals that oscillate between cheeky charm and heartfelt sincerity. Tracks like “See Miss America” and “Victoria Has A Secret” are brimming with wit and narrative flair, echoing the storytelling lineage of Ray Davies and the lyrical savvy of Justin Currie. But underneath the clever titles and polished arrangements lies a deeper emotional core — these songs carry the weight of time, self-discovery, and resilience.
The album’s title couldn’t be more apt. Lost and Found was, quite literally, an album nearly lost to the chaos of life — unfinished, shelved, and forgotten as years and distractions piled up. But in 2025, with the clarity that hindsight affords, Gillan unearthed the project and gave it new life. And we’re all better for it.
Two standout tracks encapsulate the duality of Gillan’s musical universe. “Cinnamon Sun” is a warm, slightly psychedelic groove that feels like a faded Polaroid from a perfect summer. There’s a touch of Beatles-esque nostalgia wrapped in layered harmonies and jangling guitars, yet it remains completely fresh in its arrangement. On the flip side, “Leave On A High” brings anthemic urgency — a song about knowing when to move on, delivered with the strut of a pub-rock classic and the polish of a seasoned producer. It’s both a goodbye and a mission statement, with Gillan‘s signature sparkle.
Though largely self-contained, Lost and Found benefits from the eclectic spaces that helped shape it. From warehouse studios to late-night sessions in television lots, every track carries the vibe of Manchester — a city Gillan adopted after leaving his hometown of Dumfries, Scotland. The North West’s storied musical past is alive in this record, but Gillan’s take is never derivative. It’s homage as innovation, history filtered through a personal lens.
As a self-described “pernicious multi-instrumentalist,” Gillan chased the immediacy of inspiration by doing it all himself — drums, bass, guitar, vocals, production. It’s not just a matter of control; it’s a pursuit of musical truth. That uncompromising approach links him with solo auteurs of the past, but the results are entirely his own — punchy, cinematic, and deeply infectious.
Though he’s not launching into a full touring schedule, Gillan plans to support the release with a series of livestreamed performances, a perfect medium for fans to witness the intimacy and intricacy of his creative process in real time. And while Lost and Found may be the culmination of a long-lost chapter, it also opens the door to future albums already waiting in the wings. Anachronistic? Maybe. But for Gillan, albums still matter — and this one proves why.
Tony Moore once said Gillan’s music “should be made available on the NHS.” Listening to Lost and Found, you start to understand why. It’s medicine for anyone who remembers the power of a great chorus, the thrill of an electric guitar in a small room, and the comfort of hearing someone else sing the thoughts you didn’t know how to say.
Gillan Edgar’s Lost and Found is more than just a collection of songs — it’s a musical time capsule that feels entirely present. A debut over a decade in the making, reborn with purpose, packed with charm, and ready to find the audience it was always meant for.
