For the last few years, Aodhán King and Benjamin William Hastings have been building separate creative lives from the same roots.
King kept stretching his voice beyond the worship world that first introduced him to listeners. Hastings leaned into story-driven songwriting, making records that often felt intensely personal and full of questions that don’t always fit neatly into a Sunday morning setlist. Both came up through Hillsong, helped shape a generation of modern worship and eventually had to figure out who they were once they were writing outside that ecosystem.
Their new collaborative album, Happy to Be Here, arrives after all of that.
The title feels fitting.
Over the course of 10 whirlwind days in Nashville, King and Hastings reunited with old friends and rediscovered the joy of making worship music together. The result is a record built on gratitude and a willingness to stop controlling every outcome.
“We really wanted to create songs that we can sing when we go on the road that are corporate, that are church,” Hastings said. “We’ve missed that.”
The album feels like two longtime friends finding their way back to a shared language.
Both artists have changed too much to make a simple return record. The songs on Happy to Be Here carry the perspective they’ve gained over the last several years. Throughout the record, there’s a clear sense of appreciation for the roots that shaped them.
The idea for the album had floated around for years. King and Hastings have known each other for roughly 15 years, written together often and stayed close through multiple creative seasons. During a Christmas visit, the conversation finally turned serious.
“We were like, ‘Should we just do it now?’” King said. “And yeah, it made sense. We just pulled the trigger on it as soon as we could.”
Once they committed, everything moved quickly.
Within a few weeks, they were securing studio time and preparing to write and record an entire album in roughly 10 days.
“It was kind of a chaotic roller coaster,” Hastings said.
The Nashville studio they hoped to use somehow had an open block of days available. Friends they assumed would be booked suddenly had space in their schedules. Jonas Myrin happened to be in town. Tiffany Hudson stopped by on a free day. Carrie Jobe eventually contributed as well.
Looking back, both men describe the experience with a sense of amazement.
“You couldn’t plan it if you tried,” Hastings said.
The line eventually became part of “God Thing,” one of the songs that helps explain the album’s center of gravity. Another early song, “Waiting to See What God Does,” emerged from an offhand comment in the room and gradually became the unofficial theme of the week.
“We’re just waiting to see what God does,” King said.
The phrase captured more than the songwriting process. It reflected the posture both artists felt called to embrace.
For years, they had worked within systems where songs often went through long development cycles. Ideas could be refined endlessly. Lyrics could be debated for months. This project demanded trust at a different speed.
“When you condense a whole record into 10 days, a lot of those things have to go out the window because you haven’t got time to overthink,” King said. “You haven’t got time to deliberate over things that maybe aren’t that big of a deal.”
For Hastings, who openly describes himself as a perfectionist and chronic overthinker, the pace became surprisingly freeing.
The studio was booked. The musicians were there. Songs had to be written.
Every day required trust.
“If Ben’s like, ‘I love this,’ and maybe I’m a little unsure of it, or vice versa, it’s like, I’m just going to trust Ben’s instincts on this,” King said.
The trust comes from a friendship that predates any of their success.
The story of how they met sounds almost too ridiculous to be true.
Back in 2011, King needed a pair of pants before heading to a dishwashing shift. His girlfriend at the time told him her roommate’s boyfriend lived nearby and might be able to help. King knocked on the door of someone he’d never met before.
Hastings answered.
“Can I borrow some pants?” King asked.
Hastings handed some over.
“We’ve been collaborating on outfits and songs ever since,” Hastings said.
Fifteen years later, the friendship became the foundation of Happy to Be Here. The speed of the process only worked because the relationship was already there. Both artists knew how the other worked. Neither needed to spend time proving themselves.
The project also offered Hastings a chance to reconnect with worship music in a fresh way.
His recent solo work has often leaned toward storytelling and personal reflection. Those records explored faith from intimate angles, allowing space for doubt and growth. Returning to a collaborative worship project felt energizing.
“I was really excited to dive back in and make a worship record again,” Hastings said.
The album balances those instincts beautifully. Some songs feel tailor-made for congregational worship. Others carry a more narrative approach, including “Saturday,” which focuses on the often-overlooked day between Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection.
“It’s hard on the first and we cheer on the third, but most life is lived on the second,” Hastings said.
The line may capture the heart of the album better than anything else.
Throughout Happy to Be Here, King and Hastings write from the perspective of people who understand waiting. The songs carry hope while acknowledging uncertainty. They make room for patience and trust.
“You never know, it might be Saturday,” Hastings said. “It might be right before the dawn.”
The recording sessions themselves often felt like church.
Each morning would begin with writing. Later, the songs would move into the studio with a full band and a room packed with friends. People would sing along and help shape songs that had only existed for a few hours.
“It felt like we were back at Hillsong, but it’s new, it’s different,” King said. “Kind of getting back to our roots and the things we love.”
The experience left a deeper impact than either expected.
One morning during the sessions, Hastings walked to a nearby coffee shop and listened back to recordings from the night before. As he listened, he realized many of the songs had been speaking directly to him.
“I didn’t know it at the time, but I think I was writing this to myself,” Hastings said.
Moments like that help explain why Happy to Be Here feels so personal despite its congregational focus.
The album serves the church while also documenting a season in the lives of two artists who found themselves grateful for where they’ve landed. Gratitude runs through the lyrics and even the title itself.
By the time the project was finished, King and Hastings hadn’t spent months sitting with the songs. They hadn’t had time to grow tired of them. The masters were delivered only days before release.
“We’re getting to feel the same excitement that other people would feel,” Hastings said.
The excitement is all over Happy to Be Here. You can hear it in the laughter behind the stories and in the joy both artists describe when talking about the process.
For King and Hastings, the album became a reminder that creativity doesn’t always require perfect conditions. Sometimes it starts with friendship and enough trust to see what God might do next.
