When it’s not said, but done
Our lives rely on words. We are constantly immersed in conversations, whether with others or with ourselves. Yet sometimes we need a space without language: no speeches, no explanations, only pure and unfiltered sound. A space where imagination runs free, shaping countless worlds and interpretations of the same reality. For some, it’s therapy; for others, release. That’s what it becomes for Big O, the London-based artist behind “When It’s Not Said but Done.”
Close your eyes for a moment. Listen to the noises of an ordinary day: footsteps, the wind brushing windows, a distant hum of life. These sounds immediately reveal what’s happening outside, as if reality could be translated through rhythm. Even without looking, you can map the world around you. The same happens in our conversations: within words, we decode emotions and intentions. But when words disappear, when only instrumental loops remain, something else awakens. The absence of lyrics doesn’t create emptiness; it opens a space. It allows you to wander freely inside yourself, to project feelings and meanings that belong only to you. That’s what happens when listening to “When It’s Not Said but Done.” Its instrumental fragments pull you inward, inviting you to drift across emotions and half-remembered scenes. You begin to build images, atmospheres, and stories that shift with every listen. The producer might have envisioned something specific during creation, yet for the listener, the experience transforms completely. There is no right or wrong interpretation; music doesn’t demand, it simply exists. In a world where songs often depend on lyrics and catchy hooks, Big O reminds us that peace and clarity can come from sound alone. Words lead us in one direction; sounds mirror who we are.
For Orlando, known as Big O, instrumental music opens doors that language cannot. As he puts it: “With lyrics, the words hit you because certain words you can relate to, whereas with instrumental music, the sounds can just take you somewhere more familiar in your past life.” It’s this evocative power that defines his work. Listening to his tracks feels like entering another dimension, one that doesn’t speak to our ears but directly to our inner selves. It’s almost therapeutic, a way to detach from the outside noise and reconnect with what we truly feel. In his album, Big O blends R&B loops with Afrobeats rhythms, layering textures that breathe warmth and intimacy. There’s a nostalgic glow in the tracks: a sense of looking back while stepping forward, as if memory and movement could coexist. Songs like “From the Ashes” and “A Better Me” embody this duality: renewal born from reflection. The album unfolds like an opera in motion, constantly evolving yet always centred on one protagonist—the mind—directing its own scenes. For Orlando, this project marks a turning point. Though the sound feels effortless, creating it meant leaving comfort behind, embracing uncertainty, and trusting instinct over expectation. Perhaps that’s why it resonates so deeply: it captures the essence of freedom and emotional honesty.
Many people still rely on lyrics to connect with music. Classical can feel too distant, electronic too abstract, and instrumental tracks often need visuals to be understood. Yet the truth is that instrumental music speaks in its own universal code, adapting differently to each listener. It creates portals within us. As Orlando admits: “Instrumental music has that ability to just take you somewhere that music with words can’t really tap into.” It’s a reminder that silence and sound, together, might still be the most powerful language we have.