The unlikely discotheque of Rhumba Club

Born and raised on the Channel Island of Jersey, his upbringing while idyllic in some senses, wasn't especially nurturing of the queerer elements that make up Falle. "Although it's a beautiful place, it's something of an oppressive place sometimes, especially if you were queer back then," he explains with a wry chuckle. While times have changed over the last few decades in his homeland, indeed they've also changed for Falle.

Music entered Falle's life as an escape route. Recalling how as a child he'd listen in bed to artists like Queen – which he refers to as "really camp music" – it was these stolen moments that he calls the "colour" in his life. While this stoked the musical fire inside, it was when he gravitated towards synth, and disco music that things became clearer, "because it's not always – but often – colourful, queer, expressive, but not too heavily rooted in the phallic guitar." He also credits his formative years also involved his mother driving around with Eurovision songs playing. "So yeah, it was proper, like Abba and stuff like that. Which, for better or worse, just coloured everything I know a lot of that stuff is not very well regarded."

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Continuing he explains: "I think we're having a reckoning now about some of that music which was panned, but a lot of those motifs, the fundamental signifiers of cheese are actually something totally different to queer people…not all queer people," he clarifies. Throughout our chat, he ensures to speak only for himself with a delicate honesty. "But to a lot of queer people, it can mean something. It can signify safety, or it can signify you can have fun now, I think that those sounds are loaded with more than just a Daily Mail, free giveaway CD vibe."

His first forays into music came at school where performing was always seemingly on the cards. A theatre kid by nature, as he grew up rather than taking the peer-tested route of drinking at weekends, he and a friend would write "really bad songs" on piano and record them on a multitrack recorder. He refers to the day that they first got said recorder as "the most exciting day of our lives." Eventually parting ways as the pair went to university, it was here that Falle admits he followed the traditional route (English, where he was eventually going to be an actor before falling into the sensible law pipeline). "I followed a silly path before realising that I was going to be very depressed unless I pursued music," he admits now. But it wouldn't be until this unnamed friend's last year at Oxford that they'd rekindle their creative relationship and explore this facet of their lives in earnest.

Finding their feet, it was on a solid, steady pathway with modest success for a few years in the mid-10s. But, eventually, they parted ways once more after Falle's partner decided to, of all things, go live in a yurt in Berlin. But with this second break, came the opportunity for Falle to explore the musical side that had been bubbling away, manifesting itself in his life thus far. Enter, Rhumba Club.

Initially, it was conceived as a way for Falle to explore this synth-pop side of his by way of an actual event he would hold. Referring to them as "really sketchy club nights" he'd hold at the likes of Bethnal Green Working Men's Club, diversity was his ideal scenario "before it was especially cool, or before it was especially attacked at the same time," he says. "I wanted authentic diversity, as many different ages and people in one room at one time." He recalls often putting up karaoke song sheets for audience members to sing along as he played his own songs during these events.

"I was experimenting and trying to work out how I could build togetherness in a quite authentic, sincere way," he says. "And then it developed into my artistic identity."

Using this space as a sounding board, he eventually honed and crafted it until the Rhumba Club project was born out of his bedroom synth-pop. Eventually seeking a producer, as Falle felt he was "getting lost in my own lane", his self-released debut album Welcome to the Club Rhumba came in 2021, followed by 2023's Love Apokalypto, both of which laid the groundwork for Falle's all-encompassing future.

Last year's record HONCHO is where Rhumba Club found new ground while exploring old turf. It's also been a chance for Falle to properly introduce himself. "I wanted to make a record that really acknowledged who I was or am right now, that was really honest about it," he explains. "When I mentioned earlier about making a bold choice, I really went, Okay, so what are my experiences of the last ten years, and how can I most accurately and authentically put them into ten or eleven songs. Sound-wise wise it's unbelievably me – that was the bold ambition." This can be heard in the singularly focused, almost radioactive pulses that vibrantly colour the Italo disco and synth pop sonics of his third album. That's not to mention the open-book he's created: "Lyrically, I was more honest than I would have liked to have been but I had to make myself do that," Falle laughs.

Calling it "basically a love story to my queer upbringing with caveats," the sincerity that glows throughout our conversation is the same that radiates on HONCHO. "I wanted to be more critical about some of my experiences within the community, especially in London, and I was worried about doing that, because I'm very aware that our community is under attack all the time, and I didn't want to add fuel to that," he softly admits. "I wanted to give something back that helped contribute to a reflection on some of the obviously fun bits but some of the negative parts of the queer community too…it was difficult, but I did it."

This is what Falle's career has been all about, taking risks. From escaping his Channel Island upbringing and heading for the big city, to diverging away from the so-called traditional path and exploring a career in music solo while diving into his richly theatrical and indulgent musical background. "I like to make bold choices," he admits with a care-free smile.

"Often when I'm in a session with people, they might find that frustrating, because, you know…pan hard left or right, who cares about this?" He says, both hands indicating a figurative dull, benign middle area. "Make a decision and own that. I think that's definitely part of my character, and that has served me well but I think it's also put people off."

But who wants those people around? The Rhumba Club is open to all, but to make the most of your time there, you need to be of a certain disposition – willing to embrace and accept all that enters, and to recognise your own journey as hard-won but well-earned. As Falle puts it, this all boils down to quite simply: "You've got to try it. You've got to throw shit against the wall and then be like, Oh, it's actually a Pollock."