A Photographer’s Intimate Look at Music, Memory, and the Magic of Simz
Some concerts leave you with ringing ears. Others, like Little Simz’s, leave you with a kind of echo in your chest. It’s not deafening—it’s disarming. And photographer Karolina Wielocha knows this intimately, because she hasn’t just heard Simz’s music. She’s seen the way it holds people together.
“You rarely witness a room breathe in sync,” Wielocha says, calm but with a certain glow in her voice. “But Simz can make that happen. You look at the crowd—couples holding hands in the middle of the pit, lone listeners leaning on the railings, eyes closed, whispering the lyrics like it’s their story.”
For two years, Wielocha toured with the British rapper across Europe and the UK, capturing the pulse of her performances—from sweaty basement shows to the massive chaos of Glastonbury. The result is a deeply human photo series titled We Are One People, One Soul—a name lifted straight from Simz’s own words on stage.
It might sound like a slogan, but in the haze of stage lights and music, it feels completely real.
Wielocha first encountered Simz back in 2018 at London’s Roundhouse, during the Welcome to Wonderland show. She had just moved to the city, carrying her very first photo pass in her pocket. “I thought I was going to shoot a gig,” she laughs. “But I ended up stepping into an entire world she’d built.”
From that moment on, Simz wasn’t just a musician to her—she was a storyteller. And Wielocha, a born story-chaser. Their paths wouldn’t cross again properly until years later, when Wielocha was photographing Nigerian artist Obongjayar at London’s KOKO. Simz made a surprise appearance. One of Wielocha’s photos from that night went viral, and not long after, Simz reached out: “Wanna join me on tour?”
That message marked the start of a creative partnership that would take them across continents. Wielocha went on to shoot the cover of Simz’s No Thank You album and even her self-published creative diary book. But her role wasn’t just to document Simz—it was to see her.
“I captured her hugging her mum backstage after Glastonbury,” she says, describing one of her favorite frames. “There’s this tenderness to it. No matter how grown-up we are, there’s still that kid inside us who wants to make our parents proud.”
That same performance had seen Simz facing a sea of fans, one of them holding a “Free Palestine” sign high above the crowd. The contrast—public activism and private affection—tells you everything about Simz’s emotional range, and Wielocha’s photographic eye.
Her shots aren’t perfectly composed Instagram fodder. They’re more like freeze-frames from a 90s indie film—grainy, intimate, honest. She captures fans crying, laughing, just being—all connected through Simz’s genre-blurring sound, where jazz meets funk, soul, and rap in a cinematic, beat-defying wave.
Asked about her favorite image, Wielocha picks one from a quiet moment in Brussels: Simz sitting alone backstage, notebook in hand, her jacket on her lap, sipping water and scribbling. That notebook would later become book, filled with personal musings and fan letters. “She reads them in between shows,” Wielocha says. “She told me she needs time to digest the love.”
Simz’s music, Wielocha says, doesn’t need translation. It resonates even if you miss a lyric. “You know that Bill Withers song, Grandma’s Hands?” she asks me suddenly. “That’s what Simz is like. You think it’s her story, then halfway through you realize—it’s yours.”
Today, Wielocha is more than just a tour photographer. She and Simz have become close—grabbing coffee between rehearsals, discussing wardrobe choices for shoots, sharing stories on long van rides. Still, Wielocha remains fiercely protective of her role. “I’m not there to shape her. I’m there to see her.”
What she sees—and shows through her lens—is the way Simz turns the stage into a mirror. “Sometimes it’s like she’s singing your thoughts,” she says. “Other times, it’s like she’s telling you a truth you didn’t even know you needed.”
Before we wrap up, I ask her: if you had to sum up a Little Simz performance in one sentence, what would it be? She pauses, then smiles.
“It’s like watching a mirror sing to you.”
And that’s the magic: in her words, her beats, and the stillness between the lights, Little Simz reminds you—you’re not alone. You’re part of something bigger.
One people. One soul.
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