Folk Fusion & Post-Truth Acceleration

Don't fret, it's not just Meta cursing, there are also three thoughtful folk fusion LPs to ease the dystopian angst.

Damn, what a week. Sadly I’m not talking about music as relatively few LPs get released until March, although artists with albums in the pipeline start dropping some early singles, so head over to the playlists, which will be fully updated by the end of the week with my new finds, to get your fresh music fix. I’m talking about Meta.

As horrifying as the climate change amplified fires sweeping LA are, surely something to excite the environmental accelerationists, the news that most preoccupied me this week was Meta’s decision to stop their US fact checking program and seemingly encourage misinformation and verbal abuse on their already integrity challenged, often unkind platforms. If that wasn’t enough they’ve appointed a bear of a man filmed slapping his wife in public to the board, and then good old Zuck goes on the Joe Rogan podcast the other day, lamenting the rise of “culturally neutered” companies that have sought to distance themselves from “masculine energy,” adding that it’s good if a culture “celebrates the aggression a bit more.” Looking at that video of his wife beating director and the blood soaked last hundred years I'd say we could do with a bit more feminine energy in positions of commerce and power, just a thought.

Apart from regular Anthropocene awareness nudges, I’ve largely kept TSMM politics and social commentary free since its inception, but I’ve spent more time than is healthy this week using Meta platforms to protest their decision to bring about the post-truth apocalypse, reposting the most amusing fake news stories about Zuckerberg that have flooded Threads and encouraging people to delete their Meta accounts, something I shall be doing over the course of the next few months once I’ve done my best to notify my 10K followers across their platform to follow me elsewhere. Enough is enough.

To be honest I’m feeling pretty good about the decision too. I think most people have had nagging doubts about these platforms and the diminishing returns they’ve been providing as they’ve become increasingly enshittified. That’s even without giving much thought to their surveillance capitalism shenanigans and pivotal role in the rise of populism, social divisiveness and a corrosive effect on the world’s few remaining democracies.

I’m not even too worried about the loss of reach. I’d probably have to pay Meta $1000 a month in advertising fees to engage with a meaningful percentage of TSMM’s followers, and as much as I want to support independent music I’d be out on the street by March if I did. Even then I guess I’d be thinking twice about my decision if it wasn’t for this newsletter’s support and the encouraging rise of Bluesky, not to mention deleting TSMM’s X account last year, which far from being an anxious moment, was positively cathartic.

It looks like 2025, despite its worrying start, is at least shaping up to be a healthy digital detox. I’ve even been contemplating magazine subscriptions again - in fact throwing money at any place with fact checkers and an editor or two. The true cost of free is becoming increasingly apparent and it’s more expensive than we thought. It’s just a shame that the younger generations don’t have the luxury of having that before and after mobile/social media awareness so they can at least compare a 3D, fact checked existence with their often post-truth saturated, small screen, 2D world view.

If you still want some social media contact with TSMM then head over to the encouragingly decentralised Bluesky - although I have a slight suspicion it might also become enshittified at some stage as they scale and investors start demanding returns, or the refreshingly old school, somewhat geeky and shadowy Mastodon, which I suspect will always remain that way.

Hana Stretton - Soon (Self Release)

I’ve quite possibly overused the term “ambient folk” the last few years, but I should be pretty safe from the genre classification police using the term to describe Stretton’s 2023 LP, she really does have a special gift for sliding her translucent vocals unobtrusively into comforting, lo-fi atmospherics. The whole LP is a start to finish gentle joy, if only I’d discovered it earlier.

Conceived and recorded around 2019 - 2020 whilst caretaking a family farm in Australia, at times with bush fires and flooding knocking on her door, sometimes without electricity for days, and months without human contact, it’s no surprise you can barely hear her voice at times, the introversion is palpable.

I’m guessing lockdowns were most urban dwellers first taste of “silence”, unless you’ve tried an anechoic chamber, although it’s nothing if not a relative concept. In my snowboarding days I’d sometimes wait at the top of the mountain when all the lifts had closed before descending alone or take a moment during off piste excursions when my companions had departed just to listen to the silence, but even then a gust of wind, my own breathing or despite my best efforts the rustle of my protective clothing would shatter the peace. It was pretty close though.

Soon was recorded in the midst of the outback’s “silence”, as Stretton largely decamped outdoors to record her songs. Consequently the LP is rich in the outback’s insect chorus, local bird calls, the protesting creaks of an old piano as the heat warped instrument was coaxed from its siesta. Livestock has its say, bubbling water sources and the wind come and say hello before continuing on their never ending world tour. Footsteps tread lightly offering a percussive element on one track, as a thirsty dog pants loyally by her side. The patter of rain quenches and the crackle of an evening fire warms, or do they? Field recordings are often subjective, perhaps I’m mistaken?

Samples are also snaffled, perhaps from a long wave radio or treasured records? More deliberate noises are shaped, spliced and then sprinkled judiciously throughout. Coming from a musical family obviously paid dividends, her unhurried picking and sedate strumming harmonising with, rather than trying to dominate her surroundings.

And then there is her voice, and what a beautiful voice she has. Can you hear her truths, well not clearly, and for me that’s the icing on the ambient cake. I’m sure her lyrics are as thoughtful as the compositions, and the inquisitive will listen intently to hear them, personally I’m content with the brief impressions real or imagined that can be gleaned as sentences are started but then fade to nothing, as if her mind is idly wandering or she is stricken with sudden doubts about oversharing.

This is not just any old ambient folk LP, this is one of those by which others are judged.

Remorae - Flourish in Green (Self Release)

Remorae, were born during an experimental recording residency designed to bring folk and electronic artists from around the world together to imagine the folktronic future. I’m not sure if any other groups were formed as a result, but Remorae’s immediate experiments were impressive, culminating in their 2020 LP, Folkatron Sessions 2. Last year they wisely changed their name from Folkatron and released Flourish in Green. It’s their most accomplished work to date.

Folktronica is a fairly broad church with very few artists able to supply the same levels of imagination or quality in both disciplines, not to mention the requisite synergy. Well Remorae, where once their fusion could occasionally feel a touch unbalanced, have absolutely nailed it this time around.

The vocal duo and musicians, who variously play flute, bandoneon, accordion, cello, dulcimer, percussion and shurti box, give the impression of time served dedication to the folk arts, whilst four of the quintet are also knob twiddling button pushers and chip in live effects and electronic improvisation with a rare deftness. Whether during their folk balladry, instrumental minimalism, cosmic shanties or experimental electronic twisted tales about affairs of the heart, the folkloric and futuristic combine as if it was always meant to be.

Rather like their name change, there’s an extra sophistication and pleasing evolution on this new EP, let’s hope we don’t have to wait another three years for the next chapter.

Jawhar - Khyoot (Self Release)

I came across Jawhar via his sophomore LP Tasweerah which stepped into deeper musical territory than his somewhat more popular leaning debut, Winrah Marah, a fusion of North African chaabi, a style of music popular at celebrations, with more Western singer songwriting and folkloric styles.

Where Tasweerah invited shades of Americana and a deeper vibe to largely nudge out the overtly saccharine elements of Winrah Marah, Khyoot seemingly takes its inspiration from the genteel, somewhat stoned folk sounds of 1960’s England. Yannick Dupont is still on board taking care of bass and keys, but there’s some vocal assistance from Azza Mezghani who adds some welcome female energy and sweeter tones along the way.

One of my radio heroes, the sadly missed Charlie Gillett who introduced me to so much great music from around the world, once said on his radio program that one of the joys of international music was that he couldn’t understand the lyrics, but just in case your Arabic is a bit rusty the liner notes state, “Khyoot خيوط is the Arabic plural of 'kheet', which means thread, rope, filament. In the more poetic context of the songs of the album, the word 'khyoot' often refers to what is hidden, the invisible connections between us and a powerful, magical source. These threads are what we hold onto throughout the days, the path we follow to transcend reality into creation.”

Whatever the message, I’m more than content with these softly spun, consummately delivered folk tales. Sometimes vibes speak louder than words.