MAYBE a couple of times in a lifetime you happen upon a talent that enthrals you. You know well enough why but not how*.
As a teenager my enthusiasm for the standard pop fare was muted. But then I was better moved by Buddy Holly. Of course that, and he, were short lived. Then came Carole King ( it was a while before I realised she shared her talent with Gerry Goffin). But I realised my thing was the troubadour - the singer songwriter whose canvas was life, mostly their own of course. The tapestry unfurled.
I even knew part of the why - "Woods! You are tone deaf boy. Go and do your home work". A kindly soul, old Clover but he was partly correct. I was not deaf to tone - I can hear pitch pretty well. No, my problem was conveying what I heard to my sound production apparatus. It didn't travel. An atonal dirge**.
So my life has been a tapestry of the sounds of other voices, other talents. Many came - Don McLean, Billy Joel, Neil Diamond, Paul Simon... and more. Then came Janis Ian. Mid 70s, three albums and not one was not on my list of top tracks.
And for years, while I dallied with many, I reserved dillying for Ms Ian. Late in the 20th century I found more folk again - Steve Knightly especially. Then, early in the 21st I found Karine Polwart and was amazed. But it was TV that did for me.
That bloke Wallander in his Branagh mogrification and the theme... Nostalgia. I Googled. Super surprise. Not just a great voice but that magical creature - the troubadour; singer songwriter Emily Barker. I have never looked back.
The diminutive Australian, who adopted England in 2000ish (may have been in Cambridge when I was on the Science Park) and Stroud a scant decade later. I have everything she has made (bar a couple of EPs) and seen her live three times; met her (briefly) twice. Singer, songwriter, very good and self-taught guitarist, harmonica player (lover!) , keyboardist and independent publisher. Oh and coffee nut, too!
And today I met the muse within her. Well sadly not for real but her first serious foray into verse arrived; verse by way of album notes; album by reprise. Of course, Emily's her lyrics have ever been poetry frankly; the best always are, and she has performed some verse. But this work proves what I already knew and explains the reasons for being in thrall to her. Empathy, perception and plagency. And sharing.
I read the poems through once; then declaimed it as all poetry should be. Door shut, voice lowered but decently stressed. I am old fashioned and prefer a rhyme or two but cadence is everything really. This is very good. Really, very. It deserves being heard, read well.
Remembrances from her songs are never far away and as in the songs, all along are conveyed the people, places, philosophies and events of her life. We meet her grandmother's eyes ("there's a tear that resides..." song) and the dear river, and the smell of the jarrah and horse leather.
Memories of a premonitional day in Charleston as the hurricane howled down and thoughts of ancient times crowded in. Tonight I shall hear the album; re-worked genius interspersed with poetry readings. A decided indulgence!
This latest year has not been a year only of covid-19 for Emily or her fans. Most of all it has been the year of those sweeping accidental formations that flocks of birds create to pique our wonderment. Chaos theory writ in fluttering aerial fluency. And of virtual gigs in serried circles in empty halls.
And the words tumble too in torrents of perception. Her life events are in these verses as in her songs. Emily is a beautiful person inside and outside; we are lucky to have her here. To (mis)quote a dreadful advert, I am lucky to have found her.
BELOW: The sleeve emblem of her latest oeuvre "Flight Path Rhymes" taken from "The Art of Flying" by Jan van Ijken; and below a stunning study of Emily by Emilie Sandy.
https://emilybarker.bandcamp.com/album/flight-path-rhymes
