I was lucky enough to cross paths with singer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and composer Angeline Morrison this past spring, when pandemic anxiety and a longing to connect with others in a creative way led me to the Birch Tree Folk Choir's online wellness choir, which she was leading. In the presence of Angeline's luminous smile and bright, warm eyes, the knot in my belly began to loosen, and as she slowly guided the group through a visualization to connect with the land and the ancestors who sang the songs before us, I felt more comfort and space in my body and heart than I had in days. And then she began to sing... Angeline's beautiful, expressive voice and the songs she taught us to sing together are still working a gentle magic within me, weeks after our sessions have ended. I hope you enjoy this excerpt from our conversation, and that you're as touched and inspired as I am by Angeline's description of song as "the purest and truest expression of who we are as humans."
Based in Cornwall, Angeline is a solo artist as well as half of the alt-folk duo We Are Muffy and the folk-horror duo Rowan : Morrison. You can listen to We Are Muffy here, and Angeline's solo work and Rowan : Morrison releases are available here. You can also learn more about the Birch Tree Folk Choir here.
Based in Cornwall, Angeline is a solo artist as well as half of the alt-folk duo We Are Muffy and the folk-horror duo Rowan : Morrison. You can listen to We Are Muffy here, and Angeline's solo work and Rowan : Morrison releases are available here. You can also learn more about the Birch Tree Folk Choir here.
Jess: What materials or processes do you work with? What most delights you about this work, and what is most challenging?
Angeline: I work with song and music, which I like to think about as both materials and as processes. As a songwriter, I think about all the sounds I want to hear in a composition in a similar way to how I might think about the fabric textures and colours I want in a garment. I think about the flow and the journey of the song, where it is taking me as a singer or listener, where it's going as an independent entity. In particular I work with the human voice, which is my main instrument. I'm a multi-instrumentalist and songwriter as well as a vocalist, but song for me is the purest and truest expression of who we are as humans. Each human voice is an absolutely unique jewel, a little like a fingerprint. Singing is powered by the breath of course, so it is healing for the lungs and calming for the entire central nervous system. It is always a delight to hear each singer's unique voice. I especially love it when the voices of initially shy or reluctant singers begin to gather a quiet power, as they feel the first stirrings of a new love for singing out. Honestly, it isn't really challenging at all... though my voice does get tired after a full hour of leading a singing workshop.
J: What do you find most personally transformative about your craft?
A: Singing is actually hugely personally transformative. It lifts you right out of wherever you are and whatever you're feeling, and takes you into a zone of focus that is so bright and lovely, it's almost like a meditative state. And yes, I do realize not everyone feels this way about singing!
J: Many craftspeople feel a deep sense of social purpose in their work. Do you see your work linking to a particular social movement or process?
A: Not to a particular social movement as such, it feels more as though singing connects me, potentially at least, to all other beings in the world. Song, carried on the breath, is like a clear thread of gold that runs through everything and everyone. Breathing is the one activity we all share, even if we don't share song. I especially love folk and traditional music, and I'm a choir leader with Birch Tree Folk Choir which combines the grounding and calming effects of singing with the eternal relevance of folk music. Folk or traditional songs might deal with extremely dark subject matter such as incest or murder, as well as rejoicing in a bounteous harvest or hymning a new love. The warp and weft of human life... And you know that each song was sung by generations of people, all infusing the songs with their personal meaning as they are handed down and around, and sung through generations and across landscapes. I see folk songs as a little like a beloved garment that has been patched and sewn over time. It might get ripped but you can sew a new seam. Parts of the original pattern might become worn out or hard to discern, so you might stitch your own design over it. Maybe you'll take care to incorporate as much as you can of the faded section. Maybe you'll create a new pattern. The songs are like gifts, in a way.
J: What conditions enable you to feel most alive and engaged in your work?
A: I need nature. I absolutely require it. I find it really hard to sing if I haven't been out amongst trees, open skies, earth and grass, and so on. And when I go out on one of my walks, I find myself singing spontaneously. A dog walker might come by and say, "Someone's happy today!" and I won't even realize I've been lost in my own world inside my head, just singing.
J: What gift would you give to someone who longs to dedicate themselves to this craft, but feels afraid?
A: I absolutely love this question! Yule has historically been a traditional time of gift-giving, and I like to think that giving makes the giver feel just as good as the receiver – so the giving of gifts is a happy and happy-making activity. I do know a lot of people feel some fear around singing. There is a pressure to be "good at it" that sucks all the fun and joy out of singing. So I'd give the gift of feeling blissfully free from any pressure to excel, and the freedom for all singers to devote themselves to the fun of making joyous sounds. Once you realize your whole body can be a musical instrument, and that you use your whole body to sing, people tend to feel into the fun and lightness a bit more. I'd also love to give the gift of spontaneous and natural songwriting. If you spend a lot of time with young children you'll see they seem to go through a very natural phase of singing about their world, making up songs about things they love, things they see, conversations they've heard... I would love to engage with children at this stage and give them the gift of bringing their song-making with them as they grow up and travel through life. A bit like a friend, or maybe a diary.
Angeline: I work with song and music, which I like to think about as both materials and as processes. As a songwriter, I think about all the sounds I want to hear in a composition in a similar way to how I might think about the fabric textures and colours I want in a garment. I think about the flow and the journey of the song, where it is taking me as a singer or listener, where it's going as an independent entity. In particular I work with the human voice, which is my main instrument. I'm a multi-instrumentalist and songwriter as well as a vocalist, but song for me is the purest and truest expression of who we are as humans. Each human voice is an absolutely unique jewel, a little like a fingerprint. Singing is powered by the breath of course, so it is healing for the lungs and calming for the entire central nervous system. It is always a delight to hear each singer's unique voice. I especially love it when the voices of initially shy or reluctant singers begin to gather a quiet power, as they feel the first stirrings of a new love for singing out. Honestly, it isn't really challenging at all... though my voice does get tired after a full hour of leading a singing workshop.
J: What do you find most personally transformative about your craft?
A: Singing is actually hugely personally transformative. It lifts you right out of wherever you are and whatever you're feeling, and takes you into a zone of focus that is so bright and lovely, it's almost like a meditative state. And yes, I do realize not everyone feels this way about singing!
J: Many craftspeople feel a deep sense of social purpose in their work. Do you see your work linking to a particular social movement or process?
A: Not to a particular social movement as such, it feels more as though singing connects me, potentially at least, to all other beings in the world. Song, carried on the breath, is like a clear thread of gold that runs through everything and everyone. Breathing is the one activity we all share, even if we don't share song. I especially love folk and traditional music, and I'm a choir leader with Birch Tree Folk Choir which combines the grounding and calming effects of singing with the eternal relevance of folk music. Folk or traditional songs might deal with extremely dark subject matter such as incest or murder, as well as rejoicing in a bounteous harvest or hymning a new love. The warp and weft of human life... And you know that each song was sung by generations of people, all infusing the songs with their personal meaning as they are handed down and around, and sung through generations and across landscapes. I see folk songs as a little like a beloved garment that has been patched and sewn over time. It might get ripped but you can sew a new seam. Parts of the original pattern might become worn out or hard to discern, so you might stitch your own design over it. Maybe you'll take care to incorporate as much as you can of the faded section. Maybe you'll create a new pattern. The songs are like gifts, in a way.
J: What conditions enable you to feel most alive and engaged in your work?
A: I need nature. I absolutely require it. I find it really hard to sing if I haven't been out amongst trees, open skies, earth and grass, and so on. And when I go out on one of my walks, I find myself singing spontaneously. A dog walker might come by and say, "Someone's happy today!" and I won't even realize I've been lost in my own world inside my head, just singing.
J: What gift would you give to someone who longs to dedicate themselves to this craft, but feels afraid?
A: I absolutely love this question! Yule has historically been a traditional time of gift-giving, and I like to think that giving makes the giver feel just as good as the receiver – so the giving of gifts is a happy and happy-making activity. I do know a lot of people feel some fear around singing. There is a pressure to be "good at it" that sucks all the fun and joy out of singing. So I'd give the gift of feeling blissfully free from any pressure to excel, and the freedom for all singers to devote themselves to the fun of making joyous sounds. Once you realize your whole body can be a musical instrument, and that you use your whole body to sing, people tend to feel into the fun and lightness a bit more. I'd also love to give the gift of spontaneous and natural songwriting. If you spend a lot of time with young children you'll see they seem to go through a very natural phase of singing about their world, making up songs about things they love, things they see, conversations they've heard... I would love to engage with children at this stage and give them the gift of bringing their song-making with them as they grow up and travel through life. A bit like a friend, or maybe a diary.
° ° °