I left home (a sleepy market town in middle England) the day after high school finished and traveled around the world with just a guitar and a backpack. I paid my way by teaching English and singing songs in cafes. Five years, 36 countries, and two unfinished degrees later, I moved to Canada to marry a girl I’d once met at a party in Beijing and started my new career as a street performer.
Since then, I’ve played about 3000 gigs, from street corners to stadiums, successfully avoided getting a real job, and raised three amazing ginger kids. I love meeting and singing with people of all walks of life, especially the ordinary, humble folks who are often overlooked. I’m not really interested in finding a niche or a scene â I’m much more keen on finding ways to bridge the gaps between them.
One thing we all have in common is hard times and a need to hold on to hope through our grief and disappointment. Songs have always helped me, and do that, and I feel that I’m not alone. These tunes have inspired and comforted me over the years, and a couple of my own can do the same for you. â Martin Kerr
“Love More, Care Less” â Martin Kerr
I recorded this live in one take, because it’s a song about honesty and acceptance, and because there’s already enough airbrushing and auto-tuning in the world. ‘Love more, care less’ is how I’m trying to live my life now.
“Better, Still” â 100 mile house
This gem of a song beautifully encapsulates the feeling of being a young couple trying to find your place in a senseless world. 100 mile house have disbanded now, and they never got the recognition they deserved, but to me this song is timeless.
“Sometimes” â James
I still remember the first time I heard this song, wedged into the middle seat of an old car with new friends on a dark country road in northern England as the rain poured down. It’s an ecstatic, defiant celebration of song, storms, death, and the meaning of life.
“Big Bird In A Small Cage” â Patrick Watson
The softness of this song’s beginning is so inviting. It grows, line by line, with new instruments and harmonies, the song spreading its wings like the bird in the title. I love a song that grows and lifts and takes you on an unexpected journey. Plus, it’s my wife’s favorite, so I always get extra points for playing it.
“Re: Stacks” â Bon Iver
Usually I favor narrative songwriting with a clear story. But this abstract work of genius somehow immerses me in a world, a heart, and a feeling without making any outward sense. It’s the perfect end to a mind-blowing album, carrying the listener from anguish through acceptance to a new day.
“Feather On The Clyde” â Passenger
Passenger was a street performer when he made this record, busking on the streets of Sydney to pay for the recording and sleeping on the studio couch at night. I love the vulnerability and honesty in this simple song with its intricate fingerpicking that ebbs and flows like the titular river. I remember listening to this 20 times in a row on a long flight home and resolving to allow myself to be carried by the flow of life like the feather he sings about.
“A Case of You” â Joni Mitchell
Possibly the greatest vocal performance on any record ever. I’ve always wanted to cover this song, but never felt I could do it justice. Joni paints vivid pictures of heartbreak with her words and illuminates them with the glow of her perfect voice over a lonely dulcimer. The peak of confessional singer-songwriting. I listened to it endlessly in my first apartment in Beijing when I owned nothing but a sofa, a discman, and a handful of pirated CDs bought from the street market.
“Fast Car” â Tracy Chapman
I love that this song was rediscovered by a new generation recently, but the original version can never be beaten. As a 5-year-old hearing this for the first time, I’m not sure I understood the whole story at first, but I pored over the lyrics on the back of the vinyl dust-cover in my sisters room until I knew every word and every note of this young woman’s story from half the world away. The lift into the chorus captures the bittersweet exhilaration of escaping something that was once beautiful, but now has turned dark and needs to be left behind.
“Can’t Unsee It” â Martin Kerr
Unspeakable things are happening in the world at the moment and we’re told to look the other way, to pretend it’s not happening. I made this song to try and express the grief in my heart at witnessing the genocide in Gaza, while being powerless to stop it. The melody is inspired by “Here Comes The Sun,” in the hope that there could yet be some light at the end of this long darkness for the children of war.
“Guiding Light” â Foy Vance
My parents used to sing me to sleep with old Scots lullabies that I only half understood. Foy Vance manages to bridge the gap between Gaelic traditions and the modern world in his music and this song gives me a timeless feeling of home and belonging.
“Innocence and Sadness” â Dermot Kennedy
Hearing Dermot sing this solo for a whole stadium every night was magical. I got to open for him on his cross-Canada tour last year and it was unforgettable. His songs are so nostalgic and so fresh at the same time, ancient and modern, so personal yet universal. I try to reach for that in my own songwriting and performing.
“Farewell And Goodnight” â Smashing Pumpkins
I used to fall asleep to this song every night when I was 16 and 17, when I was trying to figure out who I was, where I belonged, and why the girls I fell for never fell for me. Listening now I can hear it starts with a brush on a snare drum, but I always thought it was the waves lapping on the shore. The song is a calm and wistful end to a chaotic album full of angst and confusion (Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness). I think it taught me the value of simplicity and comfort, of contrast and context. I can still hear the click of the stop mechanism that would almost wake me up as the tape ended on my cheap plastic boombox.
Tommy Emmanuel is in his happy place: spending a Thursday afternoon at Nashvilleâs Gruhn Guitars in anticipation of recording a new solo album. âIâm here getting a new pickup system featured in one of my guitars, buying strings, hanging out with the guys, and getting a little Gruhn mojo from the shop,â he says. âThe weekend, Iâll spend stringing up and playing my guitars, making decisions about which guitar Iâll use for what song, and stuff like that.â
For the next hour, however, heâs upstairs in the storeâs amp room, settled in to discuss his two new albums â the just-released Live at the Sydney Opera House, recorded over the course of two performances in May 2023, and a solo album in the works â along with many other topics. Highlights from that conversation follow.
I was trying to find a starting point for this interview, which is challenging because there are so many. I listened to your January interview with Rick Beato and had a âstopped me in my tracks momentâ when you said you spent three days listening to Taylor Swift’s The Tortured Poets Department. I thought, âTommy Emmanuel is a Swiftie! Weâll start there.â
Tommy Emmanuel: Taylor, as a writer, is definitely a big influence on me. Someone who achieves what she achieves is doing something beyond the norm. Even beyond talent, it’s a spiritual experience, itâs big, and itâs deep, and I like to observe, listen, and learn from people who achieve like that.
You described her songwriting as âcrying from the heart.â That stood out because thatâs really what music is â it comes from the heart. We always hear that tone is in the hands, but is the heart not at the core of that?
Exactly. I was [writing a new song] and trying to find something that could give me the right melody to say with the chorus what I wanted to say without words, making the melody this cry from the heart. Itâsâ [sings melody], the chords change underneath, and so there’s movement, but there’s this cry from the heart right in the middle of everything.
Can you tell us more about this new solo album?
Normally, I record here, fly to LA, mix and master it with my friend Marc DeSisto, and I’m the producer. With this album, I’m working here in Nashville with Vance Powell, the busiest guy on the planet. We start on Monday and we’ve got to get it all done in four days.
I have eight new songs, including this piece we’ve been talking about, âA Drowning Heart.â Thereâs âBlack and White to Color,â âYoung Travelersâ â I’ve got some interesting titles. The songs are different to what I’ve written in the past. There’s a couple of typical fingerpicking tunes that I really like. They’re a little more folk-influenced. The other ones I’ve been talking about are much more ’80s rock and roll style. I have a song called âScarlett’s World.â The introduction and ending sound a bit like Dire Straits. I did that on purpose, because it’s such a cool sound. That song is inspired by the movie Lucy with Scarlett Johansson. I love that movie. I love her work. My granddaughter is like Scarlett and she is a force of nature. I got the idea to call the song âScarlett’s Worldâ when I was with her.
I’m enjoying this phase of my life. Whatever page I’ve turned to get to this stage has been worth it, because some songs have come to me in this last six months that I really love playing in my shows. Playing new songs live gets rid of anything that doesn’t need to be there, because sometimes you can write a song, you’re trying to be clever, you’re trying to be creative, you’ve got all these good ideas going, and then you play it for somebody and you realize, âOh, this part here is not necessary.â You throw it out and get to the meat and potatoes. Forget all the other stuff. Just tell me the story. Take me somewhere. That’s why I like to perform my songs to an audience before I record them. Your instincts are on a hundred. When you walk on stage, your physical and spiritual instincts have risen up and they’re ready to serve you.
Of course, youâve also just released your live album. Youâre known for working without a set list. With such a rich repertoire, how do you sequence your shows, and sequence them so that the performance speaks both to musicians and non-musicians?
That’s so important to me. My music is not for musicians; it’s for everybody. I’m trying to be an all-around artist, entertainer, writer, player, performer. I’m trying to give people a bit of everything. [The show] has to be a journey, a story, entertaining, and when itâs over, I want people to think, âIâve got to see that again.â Thereâs a passage in the first Indiana Jones movie that I never forgot. One of the characters says, âWhat are you going to do now, Indy?â Harrison Ford says, âI don’t know. I’m just making this up as I go along.â That’s me. That’s how I live my life.
Your history with Maton Guitars goes back to your days playing electric guitar. The common trajectory is the player begins on acoustic, and then goes on to electric. True to originality, you did the opposite.
I started on electric. When I was starting to be a songwriter and making my own records, I was mostly writing on electric, 60 to 70 percent, and the rest was acoustic. I started doing solo shows on acoustic and all of a sudden I realized, âHoly smoke, this really works well.â So I started writing more songs to play as a solo acoustic player. It was more pop and rock and roll music, funky, all that sort of stuff.
The record company wanted me to do something we could get on radio, so I made some jazz-oriented records. I got a lot of airplay on jazz stations and that kind of forced me into that direction for a while. It was good, because I learned to write and perform that way. When I moved to Nashville, I wanted to be on the Opry and play the Ryman, so I focused on being more country- and bluegrass-based, which is my roots. My biggest influences when I was a kid, before Chet Atkins, were Jimmie Rogers and Hank Williams. They were my first two loves of music.
What are the biggest challenges of doing what you do the way you do it?
Everything comes down to commitment. How committed am I to be a better player? I often tell people who want to talk about my technique, âI don’t talk about my technique. It’s invisible.â The music is what counts, not how I do it. My abilities fluctuate because I’m a human being. I’m not a robot; I’m not going to be exactly the same every time.
If you want it to be good, to flow, and to be wonderful to watch, then there’s a lot of work ahead. You’re going to have to work so hard to make it that way. I never stop working on my abilities, because it’s so important. My role model, Chet Atkins, worked harder than anybody I’ve ever seen at practicing and making sure that every little detail was so smooth. I will follow that with adding that my age is challenging me as well. There are things I could do twenty years ago that I can’t do today and I have to be okay about that. I have to find new things to replace some of the things that I physically can’t do.
I’ve just come off a five-week tour, which was grueling, long, lots of travel, not a lot of chance to do some serious practice. Every day was like, get to the venue, get my guitar out, start playing, work on some songs that maybe I didn’t play the night before or the night before that, remember some of my other songs that I haven’t been playing, put them in the show, and constantly find ways of making it different and interesting from the night before.
I’ve got to be in good shape physically, mentally, and spiritually to get up there and play my heart out for nearly two hours and throw my whole life into it. I’ve got to eat well, rest well, and have enthusiasm for what I’m doing. I can’t remember a time where I was standing on the side of the stage and thought, âNot this again.â That never has entered my mind. I’m like, âI can’t wait to get out there. I can’t wait to play. I can’t wait to see how this night is going to go and what I’m going to do that’s going to surprise me.â
You’ve told us a bit about your introduction to bluegrass, coming to acoustic guitar from electric, and your passion for jazz. Can you draw a through line between all those genres? How do they shape what you do?
It’s about musical abilities and musical ideas. When I play with Ricky Skaggs, or Molly Tuttle, or anybody, it’s about me fitting into what they do and serving the music as best I can. There’s a bit of bluegrass in everything I play. There’s a bit of blues in everything I play. I don’t feel like I need to be in a box or have a style stapled to me. It’s all music to me.
When I play with Billy Strings, I can hear Doc Watson and Tony Rice, of course, but I can also hear little bits of Stevie Ray Vaughan, B.B. King, George Harrison. You know, we’ve all got it in us. It’s all styles of music together. Bluegrass is such an open-ended thing to me. If I’m playing âHighway 40 Bluesâ and I take a solo, I don’t necessarily think, âOh, Iâd better tap into Tony Rice.â I just play what I feel at that moment.
A number of musicians have told me that they sometimes get sick of their own playing. Does this ever happen to you, and if so, how do you climb out of that rut?
I get tired of myself sometimes and usually something comes along that lifts my faith in my gift. Right when I think I’ve had enough of me, I need a break, something happens and somebody needs me to play for them, and they remind me, âDonât forget â you’re here for a reason. You’re here to serve others. When you play, people feel something. They feel happy. So get out of your own head and do it for someone else.â
There are times when you definitely need a break. I just had a week after the tour I finished in Zurich a week ago. I flew into England to be with my grandchildren and my daughters and I didn’t play much. I played a little bit after the girls had gone to bed. I made my dinner, played a little bit, and then watched Netflix and chilled out. It was good. I needed that break.
When your colleagues talk about you, they always describe you as a good guy, a nice guy, a mentor. How much of that comes from the kindness and mentoring you received from Chet Atkins?
I’m just trying to hand on what was handed to me. When you’ve been loved on by a guy like Chet Atkins, you know you’ve been loved. When you’ve been loved on by someone like my mother, who led by example her whole life ⊠what a great soul, a great spirit.
When I moved to the big city when I was young, I was so used to people being almost aggressive towards me, because they thought I was showing off or thinking I was much smarter than them. And it never entered my mind. But they were full of jealousy or fear or whatever, I don’t know. So when I got to the big city and I saw musicians who did things I couldn’t do, when I got to know them, they were so encouraging to me. They were so honest with me. They treated me with a dignity that other people didn’t. And so I just want people to feel good when we play together, because itâs a very honest experience.
Who is your dream artist to work with?
Marty Stuart. What a talent! Heâs a free spirit and the kind of guy I like being around. I would love to work with Marty.
You’ve spoken openly about your long battle with addiction. You are in recovery and you’ve also done the work through therapy. What part has guitar played in your recovery journey?
The guitar has always been my go-to thing to help me get through stuff. When I went through my first divorce, weâd been married for 15 years and I thought we were doing great. Everything was wonderful, Iâve got two little daughters, then my wife wanted to separate and then she was with someone else. I had to let her go and I went through a painful divorce.
I was broken beyond measure and my world went upside down. It was during that period that I wrote some of the best music I’ve ever written. It came to help me and gave me something good to focus on. Next thing I know, people are loving the music I’ve written, and I’m out, I’m starting again, I’m off on a new road.
The thing I love [about sobriety] is being clear. I’m present. My love of music and playing in general has grown so much since I’m not ruled by drugs or alcohol. Iâm [five years] free and I’m so grateful. What I do now is better, it’s more honest, it’s more real. I don’t feel self-obsessed, self-absorbed, or feel sorry for myself for all the bad things that nearly destroyed me.
I know what addiction is now. I know how to deal with it. Itâs finding what the problem is, being willing to talk about it, put the work in, follow the steps, and keep doing the work that has made my life so beautiful and so much better. Sometimes I think, âHow the hell did I ever survive that?â I’m guessing that my maker was with me all the way. I’m totally free today, but I don’t take it lightly. Itâs living one day at a time, and it’s beautiful.
And finally, what is the difference between playing guitar and being a guitarist?
Being a guitarist is being a gun for hire. Being a guitar player is a way of life. A guitar player is someone who loves to play for people and who loves his instrument deeply.
Artist:Rose Betts Hometown: London, United Kingdom Latest Album:There Is No Ship (released March 7)
What has been the best advice youâve received in your career so far?
When I lived in London, my parents would often come to my shows. Right before Iâd go on, my mother would say, “Tell me a story.” It seems so simple to put it that way, but really it was such a wonderful gem of advice, a steady light, a root to hold onto. Itâs easy to get caught up in other things, when Iâm playing live I have to fight against the problems of not hearing myself, the lights, raucous crowds. When Iâm singing a song to my phone to share on TikTok Iâm thinking about the lighting, or whether its engaging enough. Even when Iâm in a room with executives and theyâre trying to figure out if Iâm worth investing in â keeping that line of “tell me a story” in my head and my heart ties me to the old and beautiful tradition of what songwriting is and, when you take all the egos and the money out of it, what everybody wants to be a part of. We are born storytellers, all of us, and that is the thing that ties us together and helps us grow.
What other art forms â literature, film, dance, painting, etc. â inform your music?
I actually turn to other art forms for inspiration much more than I turn to music. Literature has always been important to me and totally informs more songwriting. Melody is a gift from the air, it isnât something I overthink, but words, and everything that can be poured into a melody through them, are so magical to me. Authors like Tolstoy, Turgenev, Austen, and Emily BrontĂ«, poets like Keats, Philip Larkin, Seamus Heaney â they all inspire me in different ways to become a better songwriter. I love the challenge of finding new ways to say old things. It offers me and also the listener a chance to look afresh at the world and at themselves.
Which elements of nature do you spend the most time with and how do those impact your work?
Nature is my church, it is where I go to free my mind. Living in LA, Iâve become acquainted with a different kind of nature and I’m not sure it suits me. England is lush, the greens are abundant, the air is rich and full of moisture, it weighs the sky down, bringing it nearly within touching distance. None of this is in LA. So my favourite thing to do here is to drive to San Bernardino, up into the mountains, to Crestline. Being around those trees fills me up, I can feel it nourishing something in me.
Nature roots me to the simplicity of what it is to be alive. It is passive and without pity â a witness. I feel like songs need what human beings need: air and light and water. But everyone has feet that touch the earth, so all songs need to have a part of themselves in contact with the ground, the roots, the stone.
If you didnât work in music, what would you do instead?
Iâd like to think I’d have some quiet job somewhere which gave me lots of time to read, maybe as a librarian or a translator of foreign literature. Or perhaps something in costume or fashion â I love making clothes and I love film costume, so being someone who brought the world of film to life through costume would be pretty wonderful.
Does pineapple really belong on pizza?
Surely trying to police pizza is like trying to say that a violin only belongs in an orchestra and you canât have pancakes for dinner. Think about all the wonderful things weâve made because we broke the rules. I love when cultures mix together and make something new and unexpected, it happens all the time, and should be celebrated. That said I donât have pineapple on my pizza.
Anna B Savage is down-to-earth and witchy as hell at the same time. Over her three albums, she’s cultivated a mesmerizing sound and epic image â like David Bowie, Björk, Kate Bush, etc. â that’s gained her a godlike reputation. A reputation which preceded the actual human being behind the art, leaving some to wonder what it would be like to speak to her. Turns out, she’s a grounded, kind of goofy, and perfectly normal person. In our Basic Folk conversation, we explore the duality of her persona â Anna Savage versus her stage name of Anna B Savage â and how her new album, You & i are Earth, reflects a blending of these identities with a focus on nature and love.
In this episode, Anna reflects on the realization of her parents’ unusual musical paths (they are both opera singers) and how it influenced her own creative pursuits. We delve into her songwriting journey, her love for birds, and the evolution of her unique singing voice, which blends classical influences with a jazz singer’s sensibility. Anna also opens up about her stage fright and the progression of her confidence as a performer. She touches on the complexities of being an English person living in Ireland and the importance of understanding the historical context of her new home.
As we navigate the themes of You & i are Earth, Anna reveals the inspiration behind the track “Agnes” and the mysterious allure of the 17th-century plate that inspired the album’s title. With a lighthearted lightning round, we learn about her favorite birthday tea, her ideal stage outfit, and her witchiest recent activity, too.
I feel like Iâve been living a cottagecore life since always. All my interests outside of music line up: I sew my own clothes, read old Russian literature, and I love horse riding, long forest walks, and filling my house with wild flowers and candles â and dreaming of picnics out of baskets, dressed in long skirts with ribbons in my hair and champagne in tea cups. My upcoming album, There Is No Ship, is a love letter to my homeland, [the UK], where a cottagecore lifestyle is a bit easier to achieve than here in LA. But, hereâs a playlist with some songs that make me feel closer to it. â Rose Betts
“Do It Again” â John Mark Nelson
John Mark Nelson and I met at a session and as soon as we got to talking about books I realized he was a total keeper and weâve been friends since. His vibe is so cottagecore. The man’s car smells like a pine forest and he bakes his own bread. I feel like his voice is so cozy and this song just feels like a day inside with the rain against the windows and pleasant feelings of being in love.
“Snow In Montana” â Michigander
My sister considers it illegal to listen to Christmas songs outside of December, but this has to be an exception. I love this song. On whatever side of Christmas I listen to it, it either makes me wistful about the one to come, or pleasantly melancholic about the one just passed. “Snow In Montana” makes anywhere feel cozy, which is quite a feat if you live in LA. I listen to it in the car on the way home from Trader Joeâs with bags full of vegetables and cheese and flowers feeling all stocked up and ready to light candles and get flower-arranging. I own so many small vases so that I can crowd my house out with flowers and make it feel like a garden.
“Deeper Well” â Kacey Musgraves
Her voice is so smooth and rich, I love it. And, her songs have this warmth and natural quality to them that I just want to sink into. Makes me want to rent a cabin in the woods with friends and get a campfire and hot cider going and watch the sparks fly up into the night.
“Wells” â Joshua Hyslop
Iâve been reading Anne of Green Gables lately and those books are so full of nature and the simple life, they make me really want to run away to Prince Edward Island, pick apples, and make jam. This song has that natural feel, like a little stream you sat by for a while and had a beautiful time, but all the while knew you couldnât stay forever. Anne as a character is wonderfully joyful, but also so tragic, so the meeting of those two qualities felt expressed in this song somehow.
“Inconsolable” â Kate Gavin
A friend who knows me well sent me this song and I listened on loop for days. I love the instrumentation, that lovely fiddle part! One of my favorite things about being a musician is that when my musician friends come round they just start playing whatever instrument is in the house. The other week my friend came round and our hangout consisted of cups of tea, me sewing a top, and him going through my pile of sheet music on the piano. This song has that feeling of shared music⊠maybe itâs the harmonies or those lovely melodies, either way it reminds me of impromptu musical moments that are just so lovely.
“Bishops Avenue” â Rose Betts
For about a year and a half, some friends and I had the run of a mansion on Bishops Avenue in North London. We put on plays, painted out in the orchard, had renaissance parties and banquets in the ballroom, and it was one of those golden times when everything is just a little more precious and glittery. I feel like itâs how I always want to live, banquets by candlelight and then some creative frivolity of some kind. Moving to LA, itâs hard to find orchards and dilapidated mansions to play in, but I found some playfellows who get into the spirit with me so I get close.
“Tier Abhaile Riu” â Celtic Woman
This song has such a strong feminine energy to it, reminds me of all my creative friends who enrich my life so much. My friend and I hosted an evening where we invited just women to come and share stories and we lit candles and drank Champagne out of teacups and it was total bliss. Something about women together in candlelight talking feels ancient and holy and special in a way nothing else is.
“Skye Boat Song” â Bear McCreary, Raya Yarbrough
Iâm lucky to have a twin who lives in Scotland, so I get to visit a lot and even lived there for a while in lockdown. Itâs such an amazing part of the world. There is a beach near her village where Iâd go for walks as often as I could, where the seals sing and the sky stretches out like a great pearl above your head. So much of songwriting is about finding the silence in the noise, so that the song has space to blossom and so many songs came from those walks. This song Iâve known since before I could remember hearing it, but it became more well known to the world when they used it as the title track for Outlander. This is a beautiful version. It sounds like Scotland to me, full of low skies and colossal lochs and mystery.
“The Author” â Luz
Some songs are so lovely they make me want to stop listening and write a song instead. This is one of those. Iâve started trying to write a poem every morning, just something small to start my day creatively. Then I punch a hole in the paper and hang it off some fairy lights I have around my bed. I think we are all the authors of our own life, which isnât what this song is saying, but itâs so darn romantic and in its existence turns the singer into the author that tells the girl how she feels. If that makes sense…
“Sigh No More” â Joss Whedon
I heard this song in Joss Whedon’s Much Ado About Nothing and it takes a Shakespeare poem and sets it to music. I always really liked it. I have a little book of Shakespeareâs sonnets that Iâve carried around for years and Iâm always trying to learn a new sonnet. If Iâm bored at some LA party, Iâll get it out and read a sonnet and it puts me in a better mood.
“The Stars Look Down” â Rose Betts
This is off my first EP and I sound so young, which is kind of embarrassing, but also sweet. Itâs like hearing a past version of me. I was reading a lot of Russian literature when I wrote this song and it was the mansion period of my life (which I mentioned before for “Bishops Avenue”). Iâd just discovered Tolstoy, was reading War and Peace, and this song is full of the stories and vignettes in that book, heroism and love and dreaming and nights of glory followed by disastrous heartbreak. Books have always been where I get the most inspired for my songs, the quality of the writing makes me work harder at my lyrics.
“Mexico” â The Staves
The Staves are a group of sisters who actually come from a town right by the one I grew up in. Itâs a place called Watford and is a bit of grey hole of a place. Itâs surprising that these three beautiful singers came out of it. I guess music and beauty can come from anywhere, which is how I feel about my life. Thereâs beauty in everything, and if there isnât you can bring it. My little apartment in LA is pretty boxy and lightless, but once you add candles and art and music itâs suddenly a little bohemian enclave where I can rest and be creative. Me and family sing together and thereâs nothing like families harmonising, which is why I chose this song. Reminds me of the supper table at my childhood home, where we sing before we eat and sometimes after too, and whatever argument or trouble thatâs going on disappears for a moment.
Sam Leeâs musical career grew out of his environmental activism, from the Mercury-winning album, Old Wow, to his ongoing conservation project Singing with Nightingales. The British folk starâs fourth album, songdreaming, released earlier this year, is his most creative venture yet. It’s a manifesto for reconnection with nature constructed from luscious, haunting reinterpretation of the songs of the UKâs Traveller communities.
Its title comes from the summer retreats Lee leads that bring people together to connect to their land and ancestry through song: âSinging to the land happens across the world in Indigenous communities that still have their relationship to nature very much intact,â says Lee. âIt’s ceremony, it’s devotional work, it’s prayer.â
We spoke to Lee about songdreaming, how he sources material, queerness, connection to nature, and much more.
Sam, your music is usually based on traditional folk song, but these songs go far further from the source material than youâve ever taken them before.
I had done a little bit of original writing on Old Wow, but this is an album where almost everything is written by me, some to the point where thereâs no semblance of the primary folk song left. And that was a big risk, because I’m quite shy when it comes to thinking of myself as a songwriter. Itâs not like Iâm a seasoned Johnny Flynn or AnaĂŻs Mitchell. Itâs not my training, and I’m a very reluctant writer, because I failed English at school. Iâve always had a great sense of inadequacy.
What prompted you to step out of your comfort zone?
It actually came about in an unusual way â the songs were originally commissioned for a movie, The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry. It was an adaptation of a much-loved book about a man who walks the entire length of the UK, a portrait of our connection to the land and the healing power of passage-making. I was already a great fan of its director, Hettie Macdonald â her first movie, Beautiful Thing, was seminal for me when it came out in 1996 â so I was really excited to be involved.
We arranged and wrote lots of songs to capture the mood of the film and some were used, but there were all these, dare I say, leftovers? Being the resourceful, waste-not-want-not type, I said, “Well, these all have something in them that is powerful.”
What was your writing process?
I donât have one particular method, but the way I work is a bit like the way I interact with nature. I’m a forager for sonic and lyrical opportunity, seeing relationships within words in the way that I see relationships within the ecosystem. You start to find what Simon Armitage, Britainâs beloved poet laureate, will call the “neon” moments, things that suddenly shine.
Can you give an example?
Absolutely. “McCrimmon,” the third song on the album, is a ballad I learned from my late mentor Stanley Robertson, who was a Scottish Traveller. Thereâs a lyric in the original which is, âno more, no more,â but I heard it as âin awe, in awe.â Suddenly a whole song about the state of awe appeared.
Thereâs another track which is a love song between a fair maid and a plowboy â I recalibrated and reframed it, so itâs a more complicated relationship between species that are in a state of separation. The folk songs say everything already. I’m like someone taking a Shakespeare play, resetting it, maybe adapting some of the language, like West Side Story from Romeo and Juliet.
Which of the songs came easiest?
“Green Mossy Banks,” which is actually about pilgrimage, was so easy to write. It was like, “Oh my god, I’ve been wanting to write this song forever.” And they didn’t even use it in the film!
What is it in that song that you had been longing to express?
The story of the film paints this wonderful portrait of free passage â there’s never a moment where it deals with trespass or permissions or this idea of private land. No barbed wire fences, or angry landowners going, “What do you think you’re doing here?” One could walk from Devon to the borders of Scotland and never have any issue.
But there is no person in England who goes on a country walk and isn’t affected by our punitive, archaic, and utterly unequal private ownership laws. Thatâs why I was a founder member of the Right to Roam movement. For all its avoidance of politics, “Green Mossy Banks” is a deeply political song. Social and ecological injustice is at the roots of so much of our international crisis.
Is the UK not quite a good place to walk compared to, say the US? The English have ancient rights of way that allow them to walk across private land, whereas try it in the US and you might get shotâŠ
Absolutely. But where does the US get their notion of land rights from? They were inherited as an enhanced version of British law at a time when, in England, if you were caught poaching a hare or something, thatâs it, you had your hands cut off, or you were hanged, or sent to Australia.
On the music video for “Green Mossy Banks” we see you surrounded by various mesmerising English landscapes.
Itâs a combination of many of the pilgrimages that Iâve made with Chris Park, a druid, and Charlotte Pulver, an apothecary. At cardinal points of the year â the solstices, the equinoxes â we lead communal pilgrimages to places like Stonehenge, or the South Downs.
Are there any songs on the album that were inspired by specific places?
“Meeting is a Pleasant Place” is very much about the Dartmoor landscape, down to the very tor that we filmed the video on. The exact location shall remain nameless, because it’s one of the few tors that exist in a forest, as opposed to Dartmoorâs sheep-wrecked landscape of denuded grassland. It’s deep in beech and oak forests, which makes it especially stunning.
And the song itself came out of a Devon Gypsy folk tune.
Yes, and it contains this rather mystical language that had become something of a mantra to me. âMeeting is a Pleasant Place/ Between my love and I/ Iâll go down to Yonder’s Valley, it’s there I’ll sit and sing…â Itâs bad English, but at the same time so powerful in its ambiguity. It could be a love song between two people, but in that Gypsy corruption of the words, suddenly it speaks about something so much bigger. So then I wrote my three verses as a love song to the land.
The appearance of the Trans Voices choir on the chorus turns it into something epic and anthemicâŠ
Itâs English folk gospel, as I call it. ILÄ, who runs Trans Voices, is an old friend and when the choir was set up I said Iâve got loads of songs that I’d like to speak to the queerness of land. Folk song often tends towards the heteronormative, and I want to break that down.
In the liner notes you also talk about the queerness of nature, what do you mean by that?
When you look at relationships within the natural world, sexual or otherwise, what you see is massive diversity in roles and identities. In the fungi world, for instance, there are hundreds and hundreds of genders, working collaboratively in community. Humans, too, need to start to recalibrate the way we behave in nature. So much of our subjugation and exploitation of nature has come through a male-dominated worldview and it’s not working.
One of the species you have a great connection with is the nightingale â as well as singing with them in secret woodland gigs every year, you recently wrote a book about their threatened extinction.
Yes, and when I’m with them, for seven weeks each spring, I get this sense of what is it like to be in a relationship that’s falling apart. That heartbreak, saying farewell, and knowing that it has a time limit to it. Thatâs what inspired the opening track, “Bushes and Briars.” It was the first folk song Ralph Vaughan Williams ever collected, and itâs a lament of a man and a woman who are separating. As somebody who spends a lot of time in bushes and briars trying to keep a relationship with a bird going extinct happening, thatâs a space that is very familiar to me.
Coming from a background of singing acoustically, outdoors, how do you work up the big, dense sounds that populate your albums?
I do my writing with James Keay, who plays piano in the band. We both want a richness of sound, so that what are often very repetitive lines and melodies can take the listener on journeys through different emotional states. Itâs about trying to paint as big a painting as possible.
As well as strings and horns and pipes, youâve added a more pan-global feel with a Syrian Qanun, and a Swedish Nykelharpa.
We wanted to create textures that gave a sense of both the ancient and the unusual. I’d never used a Qanun in an arrangement before, though I have used dulcimers before on almost every album, which are part of the same family.
Maya Youssef, Britainâs best-known Qanun player, features on the one folk song that you havenât changed, “Black Dog and Sheep Crook,” about a shepherd being thrown over by his lover because heâs “just” a shepherd.
I’ve kept its truth and entirety â it just felt so wonderful bringing the tragedy and the melancholy of the Qanun into that song.
So often in this album youâre grieving our detachment from and devaluing of the natural world. But the spirit and purpose of the music, as you describe it, is also to re-establish those connections. What are your current priorities for climate activism?
At the moment, there’s a big campaign to get young people voting, and voting for nature, in the UK. Hope for me is always about having a plan. And there are many brilliant plans out there. Itâs about overcoming apathy and resistance and reawakening people to what we have to lose.
I can’t speak to what I think the outcomes will be, I think that’s a dangerous thing to do. But I hope that the album has as many opportunities to instill hope and beauty as there are moments of doom and tragedy.
His name might be a little ⊠beige? But those who know John Smith have long loved the vibrant colors of this gifted guitarist and singer-songwriterâs creative palate â especially the serene sophistication at its core. A unique form of meditative propulsion has endeared Smith to heavyweight collaborators like 3-time Grammy winner Joe Henry and his own fans alike, but with his new album, The Living Kind, Smith paints with a new shade of calm, confident, consciousnesses.
Produced by Henry and driven by Smithâs steamroller of a right hand, The Living Kind seems to have a gravity of its own making â a contemporary folk album that is both spartan and lush, modern and timeless, desolate and dense with the movement of life.
Perhaps thatâs due to the subject matter, since it was written as Smith grappled with a season of change and an Alzheimer’s diagnosis that impacted not just his father, but the whole family. Or maybe it came down to the recording style, which found the UK native escaping to Maine with a few vintage guitars in the dead of winter, finding new courage in Henry’s home studio. But no matter the reason, the result is a work of deep reflection â and ultimately deep revelation.
Just after The Living Kindâs release, BGS spoke with Smith about the mix of experiences that led to his cathartic new album, a project that helps convey the beautiful tragedy of living itself.
Thank you for making some time for us to connect, John. To start, I just wonder how youâre feeling about the act of making music these days?
John Smith: I mean, I love music. Music is the good bit. I feel like music is the bit I do for free. The music business itself is tough. It’s in a strange place at the moment and everyone I know is working five times harder for half the money. So I feel that going on tour and playing shows cannot be taken for granted, especially since that moment where it all shut down. It feels like a real privilege to be able to go and do live shows. To make this record with my favorite producer was just a dream come true. The whole thing feels completely satisfying and good to me.
Tell me a little about where these songs came from. I understand they came in sort of a creative burst and you had a lot of tumultuous things going on in life at the time before that. Did this music have an impact on you personally â were you using it to process?
I think the album before [2021âs The Fray] was all about that. It was me writing so I didn’t lose my mind. This album feels more about moving through turmoil and looking behind you, looking at the rear view mirror and seeing a part of your life fade into the distance and recognizing it and keeping your eye on the road ahead. I wrote this as I was emerging from a time of tremendous â well, yeah, I say turmoil again, and the songs came very quickly. Once Joe and I had decided to make a record together, I wrote the songs over the course of the winter of 2022 into â23, wrote most of the record in about six weeks.
Thatâs crazy.
I think the thing is, when youâre writing and you put up your aerial, sometimes you catch a good frequency, you get lucky, and you catch something that falls into your lap.
I noticed that you described this project as an actual song cycle, which is not always so common anymore. Whatâs the story you feel these songs are really taking people through?
Actually, I think that was a journalist who said that, and it kind of hit me that it was not entirely untrue. The album moves through a series of different moods. It starts in a place of despair with âCandleâ â a song about Alzheimer’s and looking after someone and feeling burned out. And it ends with this song âLily,â which is a kind of evergreen love song about hope and being able to get through something, because youâve got someone to do it with. And I think the album takes you through various situations of grief and longing and love and hope, and then it ends in a very hopeful place.
You mentioned earlier, “Watching the person you were get left behind.” I mean, is that a scary feeling at this point in life?
Yeah, I think I never seem to have any say in it. Things happen and I move around them. What Iâm learning as I get older is just to be more malleable, be more subtle. Thereâs a line in âThe World Turns:â âWe’ll be stronger if we soften and yield,â and thatâs kind of what I learned over the course of the last five years. I was always someone who would attempt to resist the flow, but Iâve learned that just jumping in and seeing if you donât drown is probably the best way.
I did want to ask you where your sound is landing on this record. Itâs got this very peaceful, but sort of propulsive feeling and it puts me in a good place. I like it a lot. I wonder, does that energy show up in your daily life, or were you sort of getting out of yourself to find this mix of calming but also pushing forward?
Thatâs a really good question. Itâs almost as if youâve done this before. [Laughs] Thatâs really good, man. I never thought of that. âŠ
Well, Iâm a calm person, but Iâm always moving. Iâm always thinking of the next thing and always planning and always on it, but Iâm generally very calm, and maybe thatâs a reflection of me. When I went in, I wanted to record something that sounded like me, but also sounded idiosyncratic to this one recording process.
Most of these songs are driven by the right hand. Itâs that propulsive groovy right-hand thing that I do, and Iâve been working on my whole life, really. That is at the center of the mix, and Joe wanted to frame that, then just have other actors walk out onto the stage, do their bit, and then walk off. We wanted to put that front-and-center instead of me being part of the ensemble.
Do you think thatâs maybe part of why this one was so satisfying feeling?
I think so. I think thatâs largely down to Joe and his recording process. He just put a mic up and asks you to play a song. This felt like the record Iâve been trying to make my whole career, just sometimes you need a beautifully gifted Grammy-winning producer to help you get there.
Fortunately, Iâve played on lots of Joeâs records. Iâve played on four or five of his solo records and a bunch of his productions, so Iâm used to that way of working â and as soon as I saw him do it the first time like 13 years ago, I just said, âRight, that’s how I want to record.â
He’s always been very encouraging of me, and tried to get me to do my thing without inhibition. And there was a moment when I was singing the song âSilver Mine.â He looked over and he just kind of winked at me and said, âYou’ve done it now, son. You’ve done it.â And it was like, âYeah, I have actually done it. Iâve managed to sing without inhibition on a record,â which I donât think Iâd ever really done before.
How did the setting of Maine â in the winter â impact what you made?
Well, the idea for the album was born there a year previous. I was on tour in New England in February ’22 and then Joe and I wrote this song early after dinner, went upstairs, made a demo, and then Joe just said to me, âThereâs no reason why we shouldnât make a record here in this house.â And so a year later, I was back there and it was the same icy, snowy, frozen situation from the last February, and Iâd had it in mind the whole time I was writing. ⊠I always had those frozen finger lakes where he lives in mind.
So, when I went back, it was exactly as Iâd remembered it. The songs suited the place, they suited the setting and the weather, and then it happened. On the second day, the temperature plummeted to -25Âș Celsius. So we just stayed in, man. We stayed in the house. We looked out the window and we cut the record in four days. It brings a closeness that you canât manufacture. You can hear that on the record.
Tell me about where âCandleâ came from. This is the track that starts the record off, and I know itâs kind of a heavy topic, right?
It is a bit heavy. Itâs a song about admitting that something is very wrong and that you have to deal with it, and you have to try not to burn out. In this case, my father suffers from Alzheimerâs. We chose to completely change our lives to move around him and his condition and look after him, and itâs a song about that. I felt there was no point in dressing it up and trying to speak of it in broader strokes, because I know a lot of folk whose parents are suffering dementia of some kind. So I just decided, letâs be straight up about it.
Obviously, the visual metaphor is a candle burning out. You, as a carer, will burn out. But actually, I think really the song is about putting your hands around the candle and trying to just stay warm, enjoy that light as long as you can. The relationship with somebody who has Alzheimer’s just changes every day.
You chose âThe Living Kindâ as the title track. Why did you feel that was the best way to describe the record?
I donât know, actually. Itâs a bit of an anomaly because itâs such an upbeat song. The record isnât all that upbeat. ⊠I guess I thought âThe Living Kindâ sums it up. Rather than becoming complacent in the face of great difficulty or becoming stunned into inaction, itâs about getting on with it and trying to live life as best you can. I think that is what a lot of the record is about.
What do you hope people take away from this?
I just hope it makes listeners feel good. I think at the end of the day, thatâs all I can hope for. I believe Bob Dylan when he said that once you release music, it is not your business what people think of it. I hope it makes âem feel good.
Artist:The Wandering Hearts Hometown: England Song: âStill Watersâ Release Date: October 26, 2023 Label: Chrysalis Records
In Their Words: “‘Still Waters’ is a conversation between the head and the heart and the separate choices we make on behalf of them. We try to see clearly enough to make a firm decision either way, only to discover that there is a rippling series of consequences whatever the outcome. Writing and recording this song, we gave the rhythm a feel of lapping waves to capture the sense of the push and pull of the tides, to mirror the push and pull of the inner conflict.” â The Wandering Hearts
Artist:Ags Connolly Hometown: Oxfordshire, England Song: âOverwhelmed” Album:Siempre Release Date: June 16, 2023 Label: Finstock Music
In Their Words: “As the album Siempre is partly a celebration of Texas music I wanted there to be at least one ‘barroom’ waltz on it. The title and hook for ‘Overwhelmed’ had both been in my head for a long time and a slower waltz groove seemed natural with them. The word itself is quite easily stretched out over a melody — I couldn’t think of many other songs where it’s been featured prominently.
“The origin of the title was looking back on a situation that had gone before at what seemed a safe distance to afford me some clarity on it: what I found was I was still as immersed in and confused by it then as I had been in the past. ‘Overwhelmed’ was the apt word. The players are what bring this song to life: Rob Updegraff has an incredible guitar tone and Billy Contreras creates magic with the fiddle. I’m lucky to have had them involved.” — Ags Connolly
An Elephant Sessions gig is always a lively night out, but Alasdair Taylor admits that their last one, at Glasgowâs famous Barrowlands Ballroom, was something else. The band were celebrating their 10th anniversary with their biggest production to date, including a light show and the backing of a live string quartet. âThere was so much that could have gone wrong, it was kind of scary,â laughs Taylor. âEvery time I turned to look at one of the boys Iâd see a wall of screens and lasers and think, âThis is mad!ââ
Two weeks later, the band are âstill just coming downâ from the experience. âItâs our new benchmark,â says Taylor. Because after a decade together, the Scottish folk-fusion band have finally achieved the sound â and the experience â they were always destined for. You can hear it in their fourth studio album, For the Night, whose tracks bring together the tradition of Highland tunes that they grew up with, and the rich blend of electronic, dance and funk that they canât get enough of.
Taylor lives in Inverness in the heart of Scotland; his window looks out on the rolling hills that surround the tiny city, and he can even make out Ben Wyvis, the largest âmunroâ (or mountain) in the region. Fiddle player Euan Smillie, who has been making music with Taylor since their teenage years, lives a short distance away in a rural hamlet. âThis is country that feels remote, even when youâre only 20 minutes from town,â says Taylor. Loch Ness, Scotlandâs second largest freshwater lake, is only five miles away.
It is a very different place from Glasgow, the gritty, grungy home to Scotlandâs vibrant music scene, but itâs pretty great for inspiration. âWe live in a really beautiful part of the world,â sighs Taylor. The new albumâs fourth song, âTaransay,â is named after a boat they took out on the loch for Euanâs birthday and its trance-like mood suggests that a mellow time was had by all.
Fusing Scottish fiddle tunes with electronica is not new, but its growing popularity is. One of the bandâs inspirations is Martyn Bennett, revered for his impact on modern Scottish music and âthe first innovator to mix proper dance music with piping and Gaelic cultureâ according to Taylor. Then there were Shooglenifty, whose â90s fusions inspired him to take up mandolin, and Croft No. 5, blending Highland music with African beats. The latterâs track, âElephant,â is the source of Taylor and Smillieâs own band name.
These days, Elephant Sessions find themselves riding a wave of late-night enthusiasm as their own brand of folk-fusion plays to big, boisterous crowds both in their own country and as far afield as Eastern Europe and Australia. âAnd thereâs a bunch of younger bands following us who are realising you can branch out and do something totally different to what anyoneâs done before,â says Taylor. âThe scene has really grown, and itâs only going to increase the longevity of folk music.â
When Taylor was learning fiddle at school, folk music was considered deeply uncool. âKids can be cruel to each other. Youâd get laughed at, and it caused so many people to give up. Now Iâm telling all those people, âYouâd be making so much money from piping for weddings and funerals if youâd stuck at it!ââ
Aged 12, Taylorâs father gave him an MP3 player loaded with some his own favourite artists â Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, Toto, AC/DC â and the young lad swapped fiddle for guitar. Soon he and Smillie were earning good money playing trad fiddle-and-guitar gigs at local bars and hotels â but they knew it wasnât the musical life they desired. âWe wanted bass and synth and drum kits and samples and big stages and things like that,â says Taylor. âWe just had to work out how to get there.â
They met Greg Barry, who was drumming in function bands, at a fĂšis, a youth programme teaching the Gaelic arts. They would get together and jam in the shed at the bottom of his garden (Taylor estimates he spent âweeks, if not monthsâ of his life down there) and it was the perfect place to begin to experiment with new sounds. Seth Tinsley, the bandâs bass player, met Taylor on the folk degree course at Newcastle University, and Elephant Sessions was born â merging Barry and Tinsleyâs love of funk with Smillieâs passion for electronica along with a shared background in folk.
Their first album in 2014 â The Elusive Highland Beauty â remained traditional and largely acoustic. âThere were two tracks with electric guitar distortion and one had a bit of synth,â recalls Taylor, âand we were scared to do that much. There were shows where weâd look at the crowd and say, âWe canât play that one tonight, look where we are!â It took growing in confidence and a lot of learning about different genres to be comfortable enough to do this current mix.â
Before working on an album, they create a joint playlist where each member adds his current favourite inspirations. âWeâre constantly sending each other listening assignments, we listen to so much music before we even start writing,â says Taylor. This yearâs playlist included Dua Lipaâs âDonât Start Now,â for its phenomenal bass line. âWe kept playing it on a loop, trying to capture that disco funk vibe, and thatâs how we ended up with our track âAfter Hours.ââ
The groove was laid down long before the tune. âIn folk music generally people come along with a tune and the rest of you accompany it, and thatâs what we always did,â says Taylor. Then Covid hit, and the way they interacted had to change. âOn the first album I wrote half the tunes, and Euan wrote the other half. Now we write the whole album together. We might start with a bass riff, a drum beat, a vibe to a hip hop track⊠itâs a much longer process but itâs more rewarding. And you can hear us enjoying it more!â
The mood of their new record is captured in its title: For the Night is an ecstatic homage to all they had lost during the pandemic, âeverything we used to do and missed.â That included live music, partying at festivals, and messy evenings that ended up at their local dive bar, Johnny Foxes, where they would drink mixed shots of tequila and absinthe which the bartender christened a âMisty Badgerâ (they once dedicated a tune to the drink).
After the âdesperation of being stuck inside,â the music they have made post-Covid has been their most defiantly upbeat. âAt the start of lockdown we were all devoid of creativity but somehow this desire to reclaim that freedom and joy is in this album more than any other weâve made. Lockdown ended up being a big inspiration, which I wouldnât have imagined a year ago.â
The album also benefited from the input of Duncan Lyall, one of the Scottish folk sceneâs foremost bass players and producers. It was the first time the band had ever brought in a producer from outside their own creative bubble, and the results were instantaneous. Under Lyallâs guiding hand, writing sessions took on new direction and creative blocks melted away. Originally âTaransayâ had a breakbeat backing that stymied its momentum; Lyall introduced the call and response section in the middle which helps the music to flow and to build.
The band also credit him with rescuing their final track, âFM,â which was even longer than its eventual seven-minute running time before he helped make it more succinct. It is now such a powerful track â with a mesmeric guitar solo â that they close their sets with it. Strangely enough its title doesnât actually refer to the radio sample that introduces the track but to the fact itâs written in F-sharp minor, making it especially tricky for both mandolin and fiddle player to play. âBut the B-part is this classical-style melody and it just sings in that key,â says Taylor.
You can hear how much the band has grown in confidence in its pumping basslines and unapologetic beats. For Taylor, the turning point came in 2018, when they were surprised to find they had sold out their gig at Celtic Connections (âwe were super, super nervous,â says Taylor, âthe Old Fruit Market was a venue that seemed way too big for usâ). Major festival breakthroughs followed in the Czech Republic and in Australia. âI think the fact we were from Scotland intrigued people, and those three shows made us realise we can tour a production, and this kind of music can work to a big audience, not even one that knows us. We can win them over.â
With For the Night, they are pushing the boundaries they always wanted to. âWe certainly couldnât have made this album 10 years ago,â says Taylor. âEveryoneâs got better as writers, as arrangers, performers.â The results have surprised even them. âWe always knew Elephant Sessions would fuse these genres â but I donât think we knew how far we would go.â
Photo Credit: Euan Robertson
Want in on the newest musical releases, in depth artist features, canât miss shows, and more? Sign up now to receive BGS to your inbox.
We respect your privacy.
This website uses cookies to improve your experience. We'll assume you're ok with this, but you can opt-out if you wish.AcceptRead More
Privacy & Cookies Policy
Privacy Overview
This website uses cookies to improve your experience while you navigate through the website. Out of these, the cookies that are categorized as necessary are stored on your browser as they are essential for the working of basic functionalities of the website. We also use third-party cookies that help us analyze and understand how you use this website. These cookies will be stored in your browser only with your consent. You also have the option to opt-out of these cookies. But opting out of some of these cookies may affect your browsing experience.
Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.
Any cookies that may not be particularly necessary for the website to function and is used specifically to collect user personal data via analytics, ads, other embedded contents are termed as non-necessary cookies. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website.