If I had to say a single thing about Australian folk musician Gailla’s debut EP, Over The Earth, Under, it’s that it shows she has a clear understanding of what makes the genre special. With gorgeous musical arrangement, poignant and sweet lyrics, and a concept that ties everything together, Gailla’s introduction to the recording music scene is something to be paying attention to. The keyword here is ambition, as Gailla not only effectively gets her point across, in just over 17 minutes, but also lets us know she is an artist with much more to say.
Over The Earth, Under could simply be described as a protest EP, one centered around the current climate crisis, but Gailla and her band decided to take the concept even further. The first track of the project, midden, is a quick thirty-second invitation to the universe she is setting up, with nature sounds that eventually get overshadowed by protesters chanting: “We will not stop, we will not rest.” This mirrors the final track of the EP, pippi, another interlude where nature sounds seem to be the focus, as the vague presence of people can hardly be heard. These two tracks alone already give the EP a conceptual feel, as the longer and lyrically focused songs are contextualized within them. In a way, with this structure, it almost seems as if Gailla is attempting to capture the essence of a real protest, with a clear focus, a striking beginning, and a somewhat fleeting conclusion.
Adding to this idea, the EP’s middle part also feels like the stream of consciousness someone would have in a real-life protest. We know the cause is just, we know that the fight is bigger than ourselves, but we can’t help but think of how this affects us, the people we love, loathe the people that brought it to be, have doubts, hopes, and more. Take, for example, the song Shape of Change, where Gailla sings about people whose “shape of change” necessitates that folks like her are poor, estranged, hurt, or even dead. Considering the context of the EP and the explicit mention of these people’s desire for other countries’ oil, we can easily imagine which power structures the song is aimed at.
I could go further with this concept, like with the songs 536 and Running on our own, both of which show Gailla embracing different feelings around the climate crisis, like doubt, collective strength, hope, etc. However, I would like to bring attention to the songs Run to and its partner Run to (the water), as these tracks show Gailla’s chops as a folk musician. On the first one, Gailla ponders where she’ll run to if the crisis reaches critical levels and, almost as importantly, if the person she loves would come along. With sharp writing, and a pinch of humor though overall a gloomy perspective, the song ends with unanswered questions about what this future would hold for them. In its partner song, Run to (the water), the nature imagery becomes vivid, as this running away with someone turns into a poetic and hypnotic metaphor about embracing nature. “We can just go anywhere she takes us/ Over the Earth, under dark blue mud”. Like the great folk musicians that came before her, Gailla amps her fight for nature by almost becoming one with it, making us connect more fiercely with every single one of her words.
In conclusion, Over The Earth, Under is a fantastic, short, and to-the-point, EP about the current climate crisis and the way it affects us. It shows that Gailla and her band deeply understand the genre and that they will use this talent and knowledge for a just cause moving forward.
As for us, we can only wait to see what she’ll do next.
I Ain’t So Blue is Australian folk musician Emmy Ryan’s debut EP, and it’s an incredible showcase of her inner world, which is inevitably influenced by the world outside her. Comprised of seven songs and with a runtime just shy of thirty minutes, the EP is delightful, straightforward, topically relevant to the world at large, and, above all, honest. And it’s precisely this, Emmy’s honesty as a songwriter, that allows I Ain’t So Blue to feel like a unique display of talent and a promising sign for the music she will compose in the future.
As it is only fitting to start from the beginning, the EP opens with two tracks that effectively introduce us to Emmy’s sensibilities: Solo, So Low and A Place to Call Home. On the first song, we’re shown the meditative side of Emmy, as she is reminded of a past relationship, prompting her to reflect on the loneliness she is currently feeling. On the second one, she brings these meditative feelings to the world outside her mind, as the track is focused on the rise of interest rates on land, and how folks like her struggle to find a place to call home in the face of landlords’ monetary desires.
These two songs’ core elements can be found in many of the tracks on I Ain’t So Blue, as Emmy is capable of drawing us into her mind and the thoughts that inhabit it; but she can also get us to rally behind a just cause through the same process. The songs In My Dreams and How Many are great examples of this, as one is about navigating the insecurities around love and attraction, and the other is effectively a protest song that, thanks to the cover image used in the single version, we know is about the ongoing conflict in Palestine.
This is not to say that Emmy has a template when approaching music, rather, pointing this out shows how the fundamentals of the EP make it a cohesive and direct endeavor. Nowhere is this clearer than in the title track, I Ain’t So Blue, which is a fascinating song to choose to represent the project. The piece shows us a series of vignettes of Emmy’s world, intertwined with the chorus about how she’d tell the world she ain’t so lonely, that she ain’t so blue, but only if she’d convince herself that’s true. Considering that phrase is the first thing we see when opening the EP, there’s a sense that in the process of singing us these songs, with all the intimate feelings and worries attached to them, Emmy has in a way matured to tell us that, really, she ain’t so blue.
As for room for improvement, there is some space in the current folk music landscape that Emmy could use as inspiration for her next project. For starters, I Ain’t So Blue’s musical palette is perfectly suitable for the songs featured on it, but other folk musicians, take Mount Eerie as an example, have explored a diverse array of sounds that could also suit Emmy’s thematic ambitions in a more dynamic way. In terms of songwriting, Emmy’s intimate style could lean more into the vivid imagery already present in songs like Rainbow Trout, with artists such as Adrianne Lenker and Kara Jackson as possible guidance for this direction.
This is to say that Emmy’s future looks promising, as she is no doubt a talented and sensitive person who will continue to look inside and outside her world for inspiration. Hopefully, we get to hear more from her sooner rather than later.
Musicians are in a unique position to make a difference in the face of climate and ecological breakdown, writes cellist Sophie Gledhill
Sophie Gledhill (photo courtesy of the artist)
This article, by Sophie Gledhill, was originally published by The Strad on 22nd of April 2022 and is republished here with the author’s permission.
It’s easy to look at the news of climate and ecological breakdown, feel overwhelmed by the scale of the crisis and then resign ourselves to helplessness in our capacities as musicians. But there are always things we can do and, as musicians, we can choose to recognise our unique position to make a difference.
Be yourself and play to your strengths
If you’re open and vocal about your interests and the causes you care most about, the ‘right’ projects often have a way of finding you. As a cellist who is passionate about the environment and working in theatre, it perhaps wasn’t a coincidence that I found myself in the cast of a new production in 2016 called Opera for the Unknown Woman, an eco-feminist multimedia piece of theatre which explored the importance of international and inclusive collaboration in tackling the environmental crisis. Engaging with these issues in this way has also had a lasting effect on me long after the final show of the tour.
Last summer I was invited to be a coach at Festival of Chapels, a chamber music course in the Swiss Alps – near the shrinking Aletsch glacier – with a focus on appreciating and protecting the natural environment.
During lockdown I launched my own project, CelloTrek: my ongoing mission to record a piece of music from every country in the world in order to shine a light on a sustainability issue in each place. The more research I do, the more I realise that environmental and cultural sustainability are inextricably linked and, if we destroy our natural surroundings, we also destroy the places where unique cultures are born, grow and thrive.
Why am I reeling off my work diary and pandemic activities? A quote from Howard Thurman neatly summarises my thoughts: ’Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that, because what the world needs is people who have come alive.’ We can make the most positive impact when we are inspired, driven and putting our individual skillsets to use.
Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that, because what the world needs is people who have come alive
– Howard Thurman
Look after the little things
As musicians on the go, there are choices we can make on a daily basis which can minimise our impact on the planet, such as taking the train over flying and opting for a plant-based diet. While it can feel like our individual actions can’t possibly count for much, and while we know that governments and corporations have a staggering amount of urgent work to do, I always try to imagine my actions being multiplied by the number of people on our planet; 7 billion people eating sustainably grown plants over methane-producing cows suddenly feels significant.
There are also one-off or less regular individual actions we can all take as consumers, such as switching to an ethical bank (such as Triodos) and rejecting fast fashion – either by buying secondhand clothes or choosing sustainable brands. I often check the Ethical Consumer website to find out which brands and services are most environmentally sound.
On an artistic front, it can sometimes feel selfish or pointless to focus all our energy on one rehearsal or concert when news of impending environmental (and other) doom is unfolding around us. But something I heard during the COP26 conference, spoken by young Indonesian delegate Mustika Indah Khairina, has stuck with me: ’You can’t tell youth to have hope. For hope, they need inspiration. And for inspiration, they need culture.’ Your concert may well provide the impetus that someone needs to take their own brand of action.
You can’t tell youth to have hope. For hope, they need inspiration. And for inspiration, they need culture
– Mustika Indah Khairina
Build your network
In 2018 I was a cohort member of the Global Leaders Program, a masters-level certificate for musicians looking to explore impact-focused arts entrepreneurship. While I learnt a great deal about the potential of music as a catalyst for social change and the practical tools needed to launch a socially motivated music initiative, one of the major takeaways from this chapter of my life was the network of people I met along the way.
Fast forward to the first Covid lockdown of 2020 and I found myself organising the Toki Rapa Nui Global Support Campaign, a crowdfunder to support the environmentally sustainable music school on Easter Island where I spent two weeks for my Global Leaders Program fieldwork. I was overwhelmed by the solidarity shown by fellow GLP alumni – from New Zealand to Peru – who came together to perform in the campaign video, lend other expertise and help to spread the word. Surrounding yourself with likeminded people can inspire and propel your next earth-conscious actions.
Remember that you’re not just a musician
You’re a human that plays music. Not everything you do has to be tied to your identity as a musician, however important that facet of your life may be.
In November 2021, just before joining the Les Misérables UK tour in Glasgow, I was fortunate to be able to take three days to volunteer at COP26, the annual climate change conference hosted by the UN. It was refreshing and empowering to leave my cello in its case, throw on a ‘DEMAND CLIMATE JUSTICE’ T-shirt courtesy of the COP26 Coalition and unite behind a common cause without having to remember where I’d left my rosin. We know music can be a powerful tool for change, but it doesn’t have to be the only tool in our box.
Jump on bandwagons
While there can be great value in taking control and crafting your own projects in line with your skills and interests, it’s always worth looking around to see what already exists and could be strengthened by your contributions. I’d recommend reading Tamsin Omond’s recent book Do Earth: Healing Strategies for Humankind, which shares a decade’s worth of wisdom about collective action and community engagement.
A great place to start is Music Declares Emergency, a group of music industry individuals and organisations calling for immediate governmental action to protect our planet. Check out their website and social media to see how you can get involved.
Also head to Harmonic Progression, a place for classical musicians looking for ways to do good for people and planet. You can join one of their campaigns or take on a task, including donating any unwanted strings through their Strings4All initiative.
Embrace the power of conversation
When work and life take over, especially as the performing arts industry returns to some kind of ‘normal’ following a string of lockdowns, it can feel like we have limited time, space or resources for meaningful engagement with environmental issues. But I am coming to realise that good old-fashioned conversation, as well as the example of our actions, can have a ripple effect beyond what we might initially assume; there’s certainly been an increase in vegan food experimentation within the Les Mis touring orchestra, in any case!
In short, if there’s anything I’ve learnt from my engagement with environmental issues and activism over the past few years, it’s that doing something is always better than nothing, no matter how small. (If nothing else, I plant a tree once a day through an app appropriately called treeapp.) And, as musicians, it pays to remember that we have have readymade audiences and platforms at our disposal; let’s make them count.
Sophie Gledhill is a London-based freelance cellist and currently holds the cello chair on the Les here.
