As a lifelong Kate Bush devotee, I'm not easily swayed by new artists drawing comparisons to her. Most of the time, it's a lazy marketing hook - usually someone with a few synths and an airy vocal. But every now and then, something genuine comes along that feels like a continuation of the kind of multidimensional, mythic, brave art that Kate made in her imperial phase. That's what I felt watching Super Connected.
The film, theatre show and album are the work of Tim Arnold - someone I now understand was profoundly influenced by Kate Bush and Terry Gilliam. As a fan of both, I was completely floored by how deeply this project channels their sensibilities - not in imitation, but in spirit. And the connections aren't just aesthetic. They're literal.
For one, Super Connected features Julian Doyle's son - Jud Charlton - in a key role. Julian Doyle, of course, directed the Cloudbusting video and edited Brazil for Gilliam. That iconic creative triangle (Bush, Gilliam, Doyle) is clearly in Arnold's bloodstream. And it shows.
Hazel Pethig, the legendary costume designer who worked with Kate on multiple projects, and Val Charlton (also involved in Kate's Fish People world) were involved in this project too. It's like someone cracked open the vault of art rock's golden circle and decided to bring it into the now - with all the sincerity, theatricality and imagination intact.
I did some web-digging after watching the show and discovered that Tim Arnold actually visited the set of Kate Bush's The Line, The Cross and The Curve when he was just 17 - on a day off from school. That film, part concert fantasy, part abstract fable, clearly left a mark. Super Connected feels like a spiritual continuation of that era - bold, bizarre, and soaked in Lindsay Kemp-inspired movement. (There's a dream sequence in the middle with dancer Daniel Maccari that I would rank alongside Kate's own surreal sequences from The Red Shoes era.)
The music itself is thrilling. "Send More Light" is one of the most beautiful songs I've heard in years - and it evokes the raw emotional plea of This Woman's Work or Moments of Pleasure. But don't think this is all gentle mysticism. There's theatrical bombast here too, and shades of Hounds of Love's darker corners. Some tracks throb with electro dread and glam-flecked grandeur - like if Running Up That Hill had been produced by Bowie and overseen by Gilliam during one of his stranger dreams.
What truly elevates this project is how it's been delivered. Arnold doesn't stream the film. You can't watch it on Netflix or YouTube. He performs it live - a phone-free ritual in theatres and community halls. The film is projected while he sings live in the room. It's one of the most radical artistic choices I've seen lately: to withhold the digital experience in a story about digital overwhelm. It's genius. It forces us to be present - to absorb, not just consume.
I spoke to Arnold briefly at one of the events. He told me he would tour this film and perform it every day if he could. That level of devotion is rare - and it's exactly what this kind of work deserves. It's about the message, the art, the connection - and, yes, the magic. Just like Kate.
It's worth noting that while the Super Connected album got glowing reviews in the UK (Mojo, The Times), it hasn't yet reached a wide audience. That needs to change. The album alone is a masterpiece - easily one of the best this century. But the full experience, the fusion of music, film, and performance - that's where it transcends. It's Kate Bush meets Terry Gilliam in the 2020s, and it's glorious.
You might not be able to see the film easily. That's part of its power. But the album is available, and it demands to be heard. Especially if, like me, your heart still beats a little faster every time you hear "Cloudbusting."
