Something borrowed
In Merioneth, the wind lives and wails, On from hill to lonely hill: Down the loud, triumphant gales, A spirit cries Be strong! and cries Be still! – Lionel Pigot Johnson, ‘Dead’ Call it rather lent on permanent loan. For Welcome, stranger, to this place the Wraiths have delivered – on top of This is [...]
We are the music makers
Damn – you write a piece banging on about how surprisingly little poetry is set to pop music, then along comes a whole album full of the stuff. These are the Wraiths, and they hail from – where else? – Bristol. Theirs is just about the perfect moniker, given the poetry the duo set on This [...]
