Angharad Drake— A Collection of Ghosts

In the sense of “Are you going to Scarborough Faire,” have you heard of Angharad Drake? More importantly, have you heard Angharad Drake because she is surely floating to the top of the gene pool and you will, eventually, but why not beat the rush? Though there isn’t one, there will be. She’s been there for some time, buried in Brisbane I guess you could say. Off the beaten path, honing her skills, waiting. Always waiting. Waiting for the world to catch up because as it always is, the good ones are so far ahead. Or behind.

Does it matter? When the music matches voice and the songs are magic? They said that about Joni Mitchell in her early years. And Sandy Denny. And Maddy Prior and Richard Thompson and Iain Matthews and so many others. Music and voice and lyrics and aura because aura counts for a lot, and arrangement because many songs are made or broken through arrangement.

I nod toward Drake because she is there. Her music has all of the elements except international exposure and that will come soon enough. How could it not?

I have listened to “Baby” many times and find something new each time or maybe I just think they are new because there is a meeting between Drake and myself. I hear her, but it is more than that. It isn’t just the voice, it is an amalgamation of knowns and unknowns which make up the whole. A feeling of being in the same place if not in the same situation or on the same level. Her songs are delicate and fragile and sometimes whimsical though not.

I cannot remember now who first mentioned Drake to me. It could have been Ruth Hazleton or Hannah Gillespie or even Anna Cordell, all part of a growing trad folk movement in Australia— yes, Drake is Australian (from Brisbane, actually). All I remember is frantically searching for Drake videos and finding so few but the few so good… One of the first I saw (and felt as much as heard) was “Remedy” from her 2014 release, Swing.

She is growing, gaining that confidence and maturity that is so elusive sometimes. You can hear it when you compare the old with the new. “Remedy” to “Carpet,” with its semi-munchkin background harmonies.

She makes me crazy but not her, herself. The fact that the world is not catching up. Not fast enough. It will, though. It has to.

It is hard, writing about music so personal. I picture it as a documentary, the music in the background and the typewritten words almost superfluous… mere ghosts…