Sitting in Cafe Wilder yesterday with a friend when I realised the sound coming out of the stereo was one of the most beautiful i’d heard in a long, long time.
For a while we sat there in relative silence. It seemed like the rest of the patrons were as moved as we were.
The female singer’s voice – delicate as week-old daffodils – trailed listlessly and disquietingly about the room, softly pleading.
It was an undercurrent which pulled us all in, turning conversation into contemplation.
Outside, people strolled past, oblivious to the sea change occurring inside.
Anyway, Jolie Holland . . . Damn shame.