Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Ian Grimble and Richard Matthews of Communion Music at 2KHz, Crouch End, London
Sometimes the clouds sew themselves together to make that kind of a sky that looks like it can't be moved. It's one of those skies that appears to be permanent, immovable. It's similar to the sky that we have on a crystal blue day as well, but the one that comes to mind, when thinking about the music of UK-based musician Annie Dressner, is one that's mostly an overcast and gray one. It's not to say that she's wracked with depression, or brings it on, but she's versed in the feelings that such a sky can bring out in a person.
Someone can get contemplative about many things under a sky like that one - one that's various hues of smoke and burned air and has an agenda. Someone can also try to look on the bright side as well, rightly feeling confident that this sky - filled with drizzle - is temporary. Dressner, who transplanted herself from New York to London, writes with toes in cold and warm waters, binding everything into one steady stream, cutting through a valley. It's the stream - like the long, dark night that she sings about on this session - that leads her home.