“The story of a woman, given to two giants to fight over,” begins Emily Magpie’s new mini album “howl”, released on 26th June. It sets the scene for an album focused on story-telling, folklore and romanticism.
Emily recorded the album largely in her cabin studio in Bristol, where she writes her music, a process she compares to painting: “I like to feel a landscape or a world appearing around my song as I find the parts.”
Each single on the album tells a different story, often familiar folk tales, from taking a look at social media obsession via the tale of Narcissus, to questioning cultural ideas of youth through the May Queen and exploring feminine wildness via the folklore of La Loba on the title track ‘howl’.
It’s this that makes howl a unique and original piece of music, as Emily questions our modern world through the lens of over-familiar stories. All this over layered guitars and raw vocals.
Emily spoke to WAX about the process that created ‘howl’ and the intrinsic value of intimate live shows.
Tell us a little bit about your mini-album “howl”, what is it about and what was your process in making it?
howl is a collection of folklore retellings in a weird pop landscape. There’s definitely a lot more folk influence in there but also lots of electronic sounds and samples. The juxtaposition of the two feels really juicy to me.
I was thinking about how we’ve always told stories and what an underbelly our folklore and old stories are- they influence us still. I feel like we crave story and meaning. I was also wondering what the stories are now that we spend our time with and how does that shape the way we see the world.
I wanted to join the old oral storytelling tradition of retelling folklore – it changes a little each time depending on the teller and the listener. The stories I told all felt relevant to me now. For example Narcissus is a retelling of the Greek myth but instead of being trapped by my reflection in a lake, I explore being trapped by my reflection in how I’m perceived on social media and how that’s the same kind of unrequited love.
It felt like I was collecting the songs, stories and melodies as I went- seeing which stuck and slowly piecing together how it all worked as a whole. Writing and producing it was a lot of time tinkering away in my cabin studio solo interspersed with lovely evenings with friends coming in to add parts. It was such a fun process I was really pleased Meg Avon contributed her poetry to the interludes- it felt like a thread that tied the project together.
It sounds like you use a lot of storytelling devices in your music, can you tell us a little about what inspires you and how you choose the stories you tell?
I’ve always loved myths and folklore as they feel like a window into another time.
I got really into blind boys podcast a while ago in which he explores a lot of old Irish folklore and what this could tell us about the landscape and society it came from. This take on folklore as a kind of bread crumb trail really piqued my interest and got me thinking about what these stories tell us and how i could retell them through a modern lense.
I was digging through books of old folklore from the UK to Greece to South America and would come across certain tales that would stay with me and felt personal- those were the ones I’d find myself day dreaming about, coming back to, and eventually writing about.
Your cabin studio sounds like a dream! What does your day-to-day music writing process look like?
Songs normally start as a voice note on my phone when I’m either noodling on guitar or piano or when I’m just walking about (often that’s when melodies pop in). Plus scribbled lyrics and poetry in a notebook I always carry just in case.
Once the little ear worms have set in I love to hang out in my cabin and expand them. I’ve got a few old synths and guitar pedals which I layer up with more ‘folk’ instrumentation. My mate also lent me their auto harp which has been a fun addition for some weird sounds. I think producing is a bit like painting – I like to feel a landscape or a world appearing around my song as I find the parts.
You often play intimate live sets as a form of “conversation”. What does playing live mean to you?
It can feel so different depending on the setting and where you’re at. We did a few years playing quite a lot of bigger stages at festivals which I also loved the energy of but it felt amazing to come back to the core of just standing up in a room and sharing songs and stories. There’s definitely a kind of intimacy and magic in smaller spaces where you and the audience feel so connected. There’s such a warmth to it.
There’s a huge folk and jam scene in Bristol, do you feel you’re part of something bigger here?
Yeah, the Bristol scene is amazing across the board! I love the freedom to create you feel here and you can always find interesting and inspiring music and art. Outside of Bristol too it does seem there’s a resurgence in interest in folklore (Wyrd Walk, etc) which is so cool to see! Again, makes me wonder what that says about our society at the moment that so many people are tapping in, it’s very exciting.
//Words: Clara Bullock// Photography: Ania Shrimpton//