Aodhan King never set out to be a solo artist. For most of his 20s, he was a key voice behind Hillsong Young & Free, one of the most influential worship collectives of the last decade. His work helped define a whole generation’s sound of church: stadium-ready synths, youth rally energy and lyrics tailor-made for Sunday services. It was fast-paced, high-volume and, for a while, everything he imagined doing.
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“I loved being part of a group,” King said. “I loved being in community. Honestly, the idea of going solo didn’t even cross my mind.”
But then the world changed. COVID-19 brought global disruption. Hillsong was rocked by public scandal and internal upheaval. Suddenly, the steady rhythm of writing, recording and touring with Young & Free was gone. So was the certainty that it would come back.
“We were all at home, and Hillsong started to look different,” he said. “The future of what worship looked like there became uncertain. That forced me to really sit with some questions I hadn’t asked before — about my calling, my creativity, even my faith.”
As churches around the world went quiet, King turned to what he knew best: songwriting. Not for a stage. Not for a service. Just to process.
“I started writing just for me,” he said. “No plan. No audience in mind. It was really personal. And over time, those songs started to form something I didn’t expect.”
That “something” became Beyond Us, King’s first solo worship album. Released quietly but confidently, it’s not a flashy debut. It’s not a reinvention. It’s something much rarer — a deeply sincere, creatively free body of worship that doesn’t care whether it fits the mold. That’s kind of the point.
“When you’re writing for a church context, there are boundaries,” he said. “The songs have to make sense for a Sunday morning. You think about what a congregation can sing, what will resonate broadly. And that’s not bad — it’s just specific. With Beyond Us, I didn’t have to follow any of those rules. I could write what I actually loved. That was freeing.”
The project’s freedom extended to its collaborators. One track features Paul Klein of LANY — an artist who, despite having roots in church, hasn’t been known for worship music.
“I met Paul back in 2014,” King said. “He was kind of attending Hillsong LA at the time. A friend told me, ‘You’ve got to meet this guy — he’s insanely talented, loves Jesus, used to lead worship in Oklahoma.’ So we connected and wrote together. Then LANY blew up.”
Despite Klein’s success in mainstream music, the two stayed close.
“We’ve stayed in touch over the years, written a lot of songs, hung out,” King said. “He lives near me now. At one point during this process, he told me he wanted to sing on one of the worship tracks. I didn’t have to check with anyone. I just said, ‘Absolutely.’”
That moment captured the heart of what Beyond Us became — a space for worship unconstrained by expectation or permission. A project that could include voices that didn’t fit the “worship artist” label but still carried something deeply spiritual.
“I’ve got friends in pop bands, indie bands, all kinds of spaces, who love Jesus,” King said. “But they don’t get to say that publicly in their work. If they put Jesus in a song, it’s a risk. This album gave them a place to do it anyway.”
That idea — of breaking the boundary between sacred and secular — became a central thread.
“I think a lot of us grew up with the unspoken rule that you had to be at church 17,000 times a week to be allowed to sing worship music,” he said with a laugh. “But that’s not the kingdom. Worship doesn’t belong to one context. It doesn’t belong to a platform. It belongs to anyone who wants to connect with God.”
Ironically, Beyond Us wasn’t even supposed to be a worship album. After moving to the United States, King initially pursued a more mainstream path.
“I had a full pop record finished. I was signed to management, working with A&Rs, about to sign a deal,” he said. “But something felt off. I wasn’t getting the fulfillment I’d felt when I was writing worship. That was always the space where I met God.”
So he pivoted. Not because the pop world wasn’t exciting — but because it wasn’t home.
“Worship was the thing that kept me grounded in a season that felt totally unstable,” he said. “It brought me clarity when I had none.”
Clarity is something King doesn’t take for granted. After years of creative paralysis and spiritual confusion, he’s found himself again through the songs on this album.
“I’d been stuck in indecision for so long,” he said. “Writing these songs helped me break out of that. It helped me remember what I’m called to do.”
One of those songs, “Thank You So Much, Jesus,” has become an unexpected fan favorite.
“People tell me it brought them back to the simplicity of worship,” he said. “And honestly, that’s all I want. A direct bridge to God’s presence. No hype. No filters. Just Jesus.”
The response has been more than encouraging — it’s been affirming.
“I think people are hungry for something real,” King said. “Not manufactured. Not performative. Just sincere worship from wherever you’re standing.”
What’s next for King isn’t a return to the spotlight — it’s continuing to carve out space for others.
“I hope this album gives people permission,” he said. “Permission to worship without feeling like they have to prove anything first. Permission to believe that God welcomes them, even if the church hasn’t always made that clear.”
At the end of the day, King’s not trying to start a movement or make a statement. He’s just trying to be faithful.
“This record is worship,” he said. “But more than that, it’s freedom. It’s a reminder that God isn’t confined to our systems. And neither are we.”
