The Ritz is one of London’s most glamorous and exclusive hotels, where prim guests speak in hushed tones, and the loudest sound is the clack of stilettos on marble. But there’s another, decidedly less posh Ritz in the city, a greasy spoon cafe with a merrily tooting milk steamer and Top 40 hits blaring on the radio. On a Monday afternoon, kitchen staff dole out hearty plates of full English breakfasts and crusty baguettes oozing with tuna salad. The air has the sweet scent of a deep fat fryer. Will Westerman, who performs under his last name, lives nearby this more humble Ritz, in west London. He writes his heartfelt and ever-morphing electronic folk songs at home, often in the small hours of the morning, when the quiet of the city gives him space to work through his thoughts. But this cafe, with all its bang and clatter, offers its own kind of peace.

Often, Westerman is joined at The Ritz by his manager, Chris Pearson, who runs Blue Flowers, a small indie that the 26-year-old signed to last year. The imprint grew out of a live music night of the same name, which put on early gigs for Adele and Laura Marling in the mid 2000s, and had London music fans making a pilgrimage to the leafy, family-friendly area we’re in today. “There isn’t really a scene here,” Westerman says. “It’s more insular, so the music I make isn’t necessarily influenced by what other people are doing.”

Westerman: “Confirmation” (via SoundCloud)

Westerman’s early music, which he spent his early 20s playing at London open mic nights, faithfully recreated the intricate storytelling of folk forefathers like Nick Drake and Neil Young. He won Best Country/Folk Act at London’s prestigious Unsigned Music Awards in 2016, but his sound expanded after he began collaborating with an eclectic producer named Bullion that same year. Last fall’s great Call and Response EP pairs the laid-back synths of 1980s sophisti-pop artists like the Blue Nile with intricate guitar finger-picking; its songs are addictive, arch reflections on social media narcissism and twisted sexual dynamics. On the startlingly good recent single “Confirmation,” Westerman’s haunting, high-register vocals sound similar to the cosmic timbre of avant-pop icon Arthur Russell, surrounded by a world of echo as he sings sparse, jolting lyrics about finding clarity within chaos. “Don’t you wonder why confirmation’s easier/When you don’t think so much about it?” he asks. It can be harder than ever to attain stillness, but Westerman’s songwriting takes in the tumult of a whirring mind and turns it into music that has the power to soothe modern anxieties, if not solve them.