landscape

FOR Dermot Kennedy’s third album, he wanted to explore both the beauty and burden of a successful music career. 

The award-winning Irish singer might headline huge arenas but he has always had his feet firmly on the ground, valuing a normal life, privacy and simple things such as walking in his local woods — the theme of his new record. 

He says: “I feel I’m at a sweet spot, because I can play The O2 in London but I can walk around all day and no one really knows who I am. 

“Having a career in music is a blessing. It’s the most amazing thing, but at the same time, there are certain challenges that come with it. It tests relationships and tests your own resolve, it’s a ­pressure. And I wanted to write about that.” 

The pull of nature as a place to reset became more powerful to the singer as he found success — both his previous collections, Without Fear (2019) and Sonder (2022), topped the album chart. 

“With a career in music, you’re not anonymous, you’re constantly moving from city to city,” he explains. 

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“Being somewhere where you can only see trees in every direction has become more and more important to me, and more powerful. Where I live is quite remote, and that’s the way I want to be.”

This recurring woodland imagery reflects a sense of calm and nostalgia to Kennedy, and the cover of his new album, The Weight Of The Woods, features the singer in a woodland setting. 

As we chat in his central London record label offices, he’s signing a huge pile of his new CDs.  

“It’s a great album cover,” he says smiling. “Even signing these all morning, I’m not sick of looking at it yet.” 

A standout on Kennedy’s new record is the track Sycamore, a gorgeous introspective ode to home and identity. 

“The Irish landscape has always been important to me,” he says. “Where we took the picture for the album still resonates. It’s a big part of how I’m inspired.” 

Working with producer Gabe Simon — who produced Noah Kahan’s 2022 breakthrough album, Stick Season — Kennedy made The Weight Of The Woods in ­Ireland, Nashville and Norway. 

He says: “Sycamore is lush and smooth, which felt different for me. It was the first song we made when Gabe came over — there’s a sycamore tree right in front of my house that’s become a kind of ­talisman in my life. It felt like a lovely way to start. 

“A lot of these songs carry a vulnerability I haven’t shown before, and that felt important, because you can’t pretend you’re 100 per cent all the time. It’s just not true.” 

This shift shows a new confidence, one that allows him to do things his own way. 

“Generally, I’m a quiet person, so on previous albums I wasn’t the loudest in the room whereas with this one, I have the confidence to shout for it and take my time. 

“It’s taken this long to get to a point where I know what I want — what I need and what’s authentic.” 

The Weight Of The Woods reflects a stage in his life where Kennedy feels more secure, more at home and more fully himself. Now married with a baby daughter, his perspective has shifted in ways he struggles to fully articulate. 

“How has fatherhood changed me?” he ponders. “It’s hard to sum up, I can’t explain it in a couple of minutes. 

“It just means the world to me and gives you a completely new perspective on life. 

“It makes you realise there are more important things than chasing goals in music. 

“The best thing I can do now is make music that moves me and try to live in a way that feels like the purest version of who I am. It becomes the centre of everything. 

“Fatherhood has given me more confidence, but also a different kind of fragility, making me more emotionally open. 

“A lot of these songs carry a vulnerability that I haven’t shown in my music before, and that’s important.”  

Musically, Kennedy feels the album has a strong Irishness, though it was not a deliberate concept.  

Honest is a track that feels especially personal, as it directly references where he is from in Ireland. 

He says: The first lyric is about Kilteel [near Rathcoole, Co Dublin] which is an important part of where I’m from. It’s a more personal record so I needed to tell the story of where I’m from.” 

He reflects on the pull of home: “Sometimes when you’re trying to have a career in music, people assume they need to move away and live somewhere else. 

“But in Ireland we have one of the richest musical landscapes in the world, you know? So, it’s nice to be a part of that. 

“And it’s the most Irish-sounding track. I played the bodhran [a traditional Irish frame drum] on it, the drum you hear at the beginning, and there’s also a tin ­whistle. It all came together very naturally so these songs feel dynamic to me and they’re really going to work live.” 

Wasted is a favourite of Kennedy’s on the record. Inspired by US singer and producer Dijon, he says: “It felt like it had that excited, upbeat energy without being pop. It felt real in the room and exciting.” 

Then there’s The Only Time I Prayed, which explores the singer’s relationship with faith. 

“I’ve got songs like Glory, and lyrics about the devil, but I’d consider myself definitely agnostic. I believe in otherworldly things but I’m not a practising Catholic. 

“Still, when things get difficult, people pray — regardless of faith. It comes from desperation, and I find that fascinating. Sometimes I even feel envious of people with a strong faith.” 

Another highlight on the record is Funeral, a stunning track about letting go of the past to move forward. 

“I just wanted that song to be about ditching any difficult stuff I’ve been through,” he says. 

“Songwriters spend an awful lot of time wallowing in the past and I wanted it to feel triumphant — moving forward into something more positive. 

“It felt good and the vocal carries an energy which is always a fun thing on a song.” 

On this third album, Kennedy feels more confident, self-assured and clearer about what is authentic to him. 

He says: “It’s less inhibition and less stress — not poring over every decision. So confidence showed up in quite a carefree, exciting way.” 

It was important to Kennedy that the album was stripped back and imperfect to add to the studio atmosphere. 

“Musically, if you listen closely, there are lots of imperfections, little noises other artists or producers might take out,” he says.  

“You can hear someone talking, a chair creaking. It puts me back in that room, and I don’t want to lose that.” 

That same approach mirrors a wider creative release: “I feel like I’ve let go massively, which is a good thing.” 

That sense of letting go has also reshaped how he defines success. 

“Any pressure that came with the second album was internal, applied by myself,” he says. “I don’t think being competitive puts me in the best place to be the best artist I can be. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t.  

“Tracking streams or records isn’t success to me. With this record, it was just lovely to get back to a place where I really enjoyed making the music, the visual world around it, and playing the songs.  

“Don’t get me wrong, I still want lots of people to hear it, but I feel like I’ve already succeeded with this project.  

“If it reaches a ton of people, that’s fantastic, but I had a beautiful time making it, and that’s everything. 

“When you chase numbers and all that stuff, it’s all quite surface level and not very fulfilling in the end. 

“I don’t think trying too hard is the move. It’s important to work hard and promote things, but being overly try-hard isn’t appealing.  

“It’s better to sit back and let the music do the work. By letting go — stepping back from social media and putting the music first — it feels more likely to set my career up the way I want it.” 

Live performance remains central to Kennedy’s identity. He feels he has built his career the “old-fashioned way” by playing rooms and winning audiences over. 

He says: “Nowadays, there’s so many ways that someone can forge a career. You can blow up on the internet or go viral. For me, it’s never really been like that. 

“It’s been more about getting people into a room. I think I can play in such a way that they might want to come back and see it again next time.” 

“For me, when I dreamed about having a career in music, all I thought about was playing in big, beautiful theatres. So playing live is an important part of what I do.” 

Even as he now fills large venues, Kennedy is keen to preserve a sense of intimacy within those spaces. 

He explains: “We’re going to do it differently. There are lots of ways you can use tech in a live show. You can run tracks for things like horns and production, but then the whole show ends up on track and can feel like elevated karaoke. 

“You can come off stage feeling like you haven’t really achieved much. So, with this tour, we’ve got rid of the click track and any backing tracks. It’s about keeping it real and letting the performance have more freedom. 

“We’re getting rid of any kind of bells and whistles, and it’s just fun. I could start a song at any tempo, I could be feeling a certain way that ends up being a faster version with more energy, or we could pull it right back. 

“You go to a live show for the energy, and I think it’s far easier to tap into that special place if you don’t have that stuff.” 

Kennedy is also more careful about looking after his voice when he tours 

“I try not to do more than two nights in a row, because it compromises the rest of the tour. It means I can walk on stage excited, instead of just hoping I get through it.” 

It’s part of a wider shift in how he approaches performance. “It’s a process as well, working with vocal coaches and stuff. I run a lot more now, because you need that lung capacity. I’m not sure about other ­people’s experience touring, but it feels like a sport sometimes.” 

That mindset has also made him more aware of the level required to sustain a major live career — something he saw first-hand watching ­Taylor Swift live. 

“Well, I saw her at the venue I’m playing this summer, and it was inspiring.” he says. “I saw Travis, her fiancé, talking about her fitness regime and just how she’s operating at a kind of scary level. 

“I find that really inspiring, because it makes you realise this is a very high level of what we do — you have to take it seriously. When someone is that on top of their game, it’s just incredibly motivating.” 

“The show is, what, three hours long? It was wild to see. And honestly, it was just cool to be in Dublin and see people so excited by those songs.  

“What really struck me was that it was just her songs. You realise this is someone who started out just writing songs, and now it’s millions of people all over the world. 

“But it doesn’t feel like some manufactured pop machine. It just feels like someone who writes songs, and that’s what makes it so powerful.” 

• The album The Weight Of The Woods is out on April 3. 

DERMOT KENNEDY 

The Weight of The Woods 

★★★★☆

The waymarked quartzite path glimmers in the sun, flanked by amber-gold grassland. Beyond, one of Scotland’s finest landscapes opens up before me, a woodland of ancient Caledonian pines leading my eye to the metallic glint of Loch Maree. On the other side of the water, a winding river separates the steep, stacked rocks of Beinn a’Mhùinidh from Slioch, one of the great mountains of Wester Ross, rising to a knuckle ridge of Torridonian sandstone.

I’m walking the four-mile mountain trail looping through Beinn Eighe national nature reserve (NNR), Britain’s first NNR, which celebrates its 75th anniversary this year. In a crowded list, you’d be hard pushed to find a more soul-stirring landscape in all of Scotland.

“The mountain path gives you a real flavour for Beinn Eighe,” the reserve manager, Doug Bartholomew, told me earlier. “It takes you right through the heart of the ancient Caledonian pinewood, then you climb steeply up to this rocky upland with views of Beinn Eighe mountain itself.”

When I reach the high point, at about 550m (1,805ft), I’m awed by the views across a lonely valley to the jagged ridgeline of mountain, which surges and falls like Atlantic waves locked in stone.

Beinn Eighe NNR stretches 48 sq km from Loch Maree to the eponymous mountain summit. When it was created in 1951, a key mission of the NNR was to protect Coille na Glas Leitir (the Wood of the Grey Slope), which is the largest remaining fragment of ancient Caledonian pinewood in north-west Scotland. The woodland was felled by some of Scotland’s earliest ironworks in the 1600s, and forestry and farming took its toll over the generations, but it is believed to have been here for the last 8,000 years.

After the Highland clearances, the lower slopes of Beinn Eighe were increasingly used for grazing. Deer-stalking, grouse-shooting and muirburn (when old growth is burnt off to encourage new growth for grazing) followed. The final exploitation happened during the second world war, when lumberjacks were brought in from Newfoundland and British Honduras to fell the trees for ammunition boxes. But thanks to pioneering landscape restoration work, namely deer management and tree planting, woodland cover has increased by more than 40% in the 75 years since the reserve was created.

Today, it’s a rare Scottish landscape where you can walk beneath twisted and gnarled pine branches hundreds of years old, but also alongside younger, conical trees.

“In the past, we had a tree nursery; so we collected seeds from the reserve, grew them in our nursery and planted them,” said Bartholomew. “We’ve now got continuous woodland linked from Glas Leitir all the way through to Coulin Estate, where you’ve got other remnants of ancient woodland, and we’re moving more to natural processes – conditions that will allow the woodland to regenerate and expand naturally.”

I soon descend into Coille na Glas Leitir on the mountain trail, passing a mosaic of birch and pines, draped in lichen. This path was a public access landmark when it opened in the early 70s, encouraging visitors to explore the mountain, and it’s still perfectly marked (though snowfall can obscure it in winter). Stags roar from the other side of Loch Maree as I walk. Tougher to pick out are the crossbills, with crossed mandibles to prise open pine cones. In warmer months, dragonflies with magical names – northern emerald, azure hawker – nose around rare mosses.

While steep, the mountain trail isn’t technical. Along with the easier woodland path, which showcases the ancient forest, and short loops from the excellent visitor centre, the beauty of this reserve really is accessible. Local providers such as Shieldaig Outdoor Adventures also offer days out exploring the islands of Loch Maree by canoe or kayak in warmer months.

I’m staying in Torridon youth hostel, at the head of Upper Loch Torridon, south-west of the Beinn Eighe massif. It’s a 20-minute drive from Coille na Glas Leitir via the village Kinlochewe, passing beneath the bulky mass of Beinn Eighe before Liathach, an icon of Glen Torridon, is revealed. The hostel is tucked beneath this mighty mountain, not in the nature reserve itself, but in an ideal place to explore it and the Torridon hills beyond.

“When we mention that we live in Torridon, people get misty eyes,” jokes Debbie Maskill, manager of the youth hostel. “For us, it’s the best part of Scotland. A real jewel.” It’s true that few place names roll so sweetly off the tongue of a hillwalker as Torridon. This is a place of grandeur – of immense, intimidating mountains set on some of the oldest rocks in Britain; of shifting light and uncompromising ferocity – with a beauty verging on myth.

The hostel – which itself turned 50 last year – is a pilgrimage site for hikers; it’s in close reach of some of Scotland’s finest scrambles, as well as the family-friendly nature reserve. Walkers and climbers trade stories and photographs in the communal kitchen and dining area. Floor-to-ceiling windows in the cosy lounge allow you to watch the weather roll over the Wester Ross peaks.

I stay in a comfy private room, and regret my early bedtime when a French guest shows me the photographs he took of the aurora shimmering above Loch Torridon the next morning. “Winter really captures the far north essence here, but by February, it’s getting lighter,” says Paul Thompson, duty supervisor at the hostel. “In the middle of winter, we don’t see the sun here, but in February it’s above the hills for quite some time. Then you get to May, a stunning time of year, when everything is fresh and you’ve got almost endless daylight. I love it all.”

On a six-mile loop of Loch Clair and Loch Coulin, just outside the reserve, I stroll beneath more tall pines, looking on to the Torridon beasts. The grey, dotted ridge of Beinn Eighe looks like it has a snow leopard’s coat draped over it, and the pyramidal mass of Liathach reflects back off the water.

I plan to walk to the Triple Buttress of Coire Mhic Fhearchair on my final day (three glacial rock towers in a corrie of Beinn Eighe), but heavy rain arrives. It’s all the excuse I need for a venison lunch at Bo & Muc, a field-to-fork restaurant at the swanky five-star The Torridon hotel.

I leave Torridon via the road to Achnasheen, stopping at the Glen Docherty viewpoint for one last look over the road to Kinlochewe, the lapping mountains and Loch Maree.

After centuries of deterioration, it’s heartwarming to see the fragments of ancient pinewood reconnecting here, in this immediately spellbinding landscape. In another 75 years, the young pines of Beinn Eighe will stand taller and, if all goes to plan, those who pass by them will be walking through a fully regenerative forest.

Accommodation was provided by Hostelling Scotland. Torridon youth hostel has private rooms for two from £52 a night, dorm beds from £20.50. The Beinn Eighe NNR trails are open year-round and are free to visit. The Beinn Eighe NNR visitor centre (with info on the reserve) is open April to October, 10am to 5pm

I couldn’t stop looking at the thick bunches of California brittlebush, their bright yellow daisy-like flowers bursting alongside the sandy trail at Eaton Canyon.

I’d last walked the path a week after the Eaton fire, when I observed that “charred limbs of manzanita and other small trees and shrubs jerked out of the earth like seared skeletal remains. Heaps of leathery brown prickly pear pads sagged into the dirt and ash. Even the rocks were burned.”

Last Saturday, almost 14 months later, I marveled at how healthy Eaton Canyon looked as I attended L.A. County Department of Parks and Recreation’s launch of its Landscape Recovery Center. This is in large part thanks to volunteers who’ve dedicated hundreds of hours to restoring the canyon. I’m excited to tell you how you can be a part of those efforts.

The Department of Parks and Rec’s effort is a major step in repairing the damage wreaked by the Eaton fire that started Jan. 7 of last year.

The center includes a nursery full of native plants that will be used not only in Eaton Canyon but also in six other parks damaged by fire, including five in Altadena, and Castaic Lake State Recreation Area. Workers will also reestablish vital tree canopy lost in the fire, planting coast live oak, Engelmann oak and Western sycamores.

Native plants at the nursery at the Landscape Recovery Center at Eaton Canyon.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

L.A. County is partnering with the Theodore Payne Foundation and the Altadena Seed Library to achieve two key goals: 1) Grow the plants in the recovery center’s nursery from locally sourced seeds. 2) Build decentralized seed banks by procuring seeds from L.A. County nature centers.

The latter involves the “process of conserving plant genetics by dehydrating and securely storing seeds for future potential restoration or research projects,” said ecologist Nina Raj, founder of Altadena Seed Library, who is working with the county to develop the seed bank project.

“By carving out space at existing nature centers for a bit of tabletop equipment and storage space, the seeds from their adjacent natural areas [will] be conserved alongside backup populations from partnering nature centers — like an insurance policy in case of, or rather, in preparation for the next natural disaster,” Raj said.

A path near the parking lot of Eaton Canyon Natural Area, as seen on Jan. 14, 2025, and on Saturday.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

In the coming months, officials estimate that more than 100,000 seeds sourced from Eaton Canyon will be propagated to aid recovery efforts. The county has also purchased more than 1,000 native shrubs and understory plants, chosen not only for their ecological value but also their cultural significance to the San Gabriel Band of Mission Indians Gabrieleno/Tongva, whose leaders have been advising the county on its canyon restoration efforts.

The county also bought 200 native trees whose seeds came from “mother” trees grown in soil “extremely compatible with the organic matter here at Eaton Canyon,” said Norma Edith García-González, director of L.A. County Parks and Recreation.

All of this intentional sowing and planting is a 180-degree turn from previous recovery efforts. After the Kinneloa fire burned through Eaton Canyon in 1993, officials rushed to stabilize the hillsides. An expert team recommended grass seed be dropped from helicopters all over the hillsides, which present-day experts say may have introduced nonnative grasses to the region.

The nursery at L.A. County’s Landscape Recovery Center at Eaton Canyon.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

“The Landscape Recovery Center represents a best-practice model for restoring nature, rebuilding habitat diversity and supporting disaster recovery,” García-González said. “[We are] rebuilding with intention, using climate-resilient native species informed by both ecological science and cultural knowledge.”

Most of Eaton Canyon, including its beloved nature center, burned in the 2025 fire. The recovery center’s modular building and the land around it are among the first built improvements, and the area now has electricity, water access, irrigation systems and restrooms. (The recovery center’s footprint is south of the burned nature center, and no announcement was made Saturday regarding when it might be rebuilt.)

These improvements will allow the Landscape Recovery Center, which will have five full-time and four part-time staff members, to host volunteers interested in caring for habitat, supporting the plant nursery or working in local outreach or on community science.

Volunteer events, including hands-on nursery work, will be scheduled Tuesday through Saturday, with times varying depending on the program. Those age 14 and older can sign up by calling or texting (626) 662-5091. (A quick note: Eaton Canyon remains closed to the public, outside of volunteer opportunities.)

A cultural sign welcomes visitors to Eaton Canyon.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Many volunteers have already been hard at work. Organized by the Eaton Canyon Nature Center Associates, volunteers have donated hundreds of hours to clear out short-pod mustard, castor bean, tree tobacco and fountain grass, which choke out native plants and serve as flashy fuel for wildfires.

All of this work must be done before hikers and other outdoors lovers can return to Eaton Canyon.

Jeremy Munns, a trails planner for L.A. County Parks and Recreation, said rebuilding the Eaton Canyon Trail and other county trails in the Eaton Canyon Natural Area will be part of a future phase.

The fire and subsequent flooding washed out the trail and caused hillsides to collapse into and around the canyon. Contractors, county staff and conservation corps crews will need to install retaining walls, repair drainages and add rock walls (called rock armoring) to stabilize the canyon and protect it from further erosion, Munns said.

A path near the Landscape Recovery Center.

(Jaclyn Cosgrove / Los Angeles Times)

Munns said there isn’t currently a plan to include volunteers in that work because of safety concerns.

“In the future, there will be opportunities for volunteers to help with the maintenance of these trails, but the timing of that has not yet been determined,” he said.

As I walked through the nursery during Saturday’s event, I found myself feeling hopeful. Several rows of California sagebrush, California buckwheat, chaparral beard tongue, sticky monkey flower and more sat in their pots, awaiting their new homes in the nearby ground.

It’s easy to imagine a future in which the entire canyon is healthy once again.

3 things to do

Workers tend to plants growing at the Santa Monica Mountains Fund seed farm.

(Jacsen Donohue / Santa Monica Mountains Fund)

1. Nurture yourself and nature in Newbury Park
The Santa Monica Mountains Fund and Second Nature Collective will host a yoga and volunteer day from 8 a.m. to noon Saturday in Newbury Park. Participants will first be led through a 45-minute mindful and meditative yoga session before placing hundreds of native plants in the ground. Register at eventbrite.com.

2. Nosh on nonnative plants in Studio City
Urban forager Nick Mann will lead a 3-mile foraging walk from 9:30 a.m. to noon Saturday through Fryman Canyon. He will teach participants how to identify edible nonnative plants commonly found along local trails. Donations requested but not required. Register at eventbrite.com.

3. Ride the river near Azusa
Active SGV will host a 12.4-mile bike ride from 9 a.m. to noon Saturday along the West Fork National Scenic Bikeway north of Azusa. Carpooling is encouraged, as the parking lot at the trailhead fills up. Register at eventbrite.com.

The must-read

Condor A1 (a.k.a. Hlow Hoo-let) soars across the sky in far Northern California.

(Matt Mais / Yurok Tribe)

In a potentially historic win for condor conservation, Yurok wildlife officials say there might be a condor pair tending to an egg in the tribe’s Northern California homeland — where condors haven’t nested for more than a century. Times staff writer Lila Seidman wrote that condors vanished from the state’s North Coast because of violence carried out by European settlers. “The pair believed to be nesting in Yurok country were captive born and released in 2022, as part of the first group reintroduced in that region,” Seidman wrote. “The pair, formally known as A1 and A0, are the oldest birds from their release cohort at nearly 7 years old — and the only ones old enough to reproduce.”

Happy adventuring,

P.S.

It’s officially baby season at the San Dimas Raptor Rescue. The L.A. County facility, which rehabilitates birds of prey, took in its first great horned owlet in early February. The center anticipates taking in dozens of great horned owlets who are found starving and need to be nursed back to health before being released. Generally, the center tries to release a bird back to the area where it was found. In this little baby’s case, that would be Venice Beach. The center is run, in part, by volunteers who are trained by the county before working with the birds. If you ever find a raptor that you perceive is in need, you can call the center at (626) 559-5732 before interacting with the animal. A great service to our local wildlife!

For more insider tips on Southern California’s beaches, trails and parks, check out past editions of The Wild. And to view this newsletter in your browser, click here.