Sandman Magazine Feature February 2008

In recent years, there has been talk in various circles of a 'folk revival'. With bands like Vetiver and the 0 Degrees of Separation tour (which came to Leeds last year) gaining much attention, and with more commercial artists like Damien Rice having clearly been heavily influenced by folk and acoustic music, one might be inclined to agree. The problem, though, is that many of the artists described as folk don't look far enough back or in enough detail, just scraping the surface before moulding something more radio friendly from the folk tradition.

Happily, Benjamin Wetherill is one artist that does not fit into this category. A young Leeds- based performer, Wetherill mixes traditional songs with haunting originals and veers between straight-up gritty folk and ethereal psychedelia. His voice possesses a fragile quality, somehow not of this era but also fresh sounding. Though acoustic folk is hardly a new concept, it is very difficult to think of any particular artist he is imitating. Intrigued to discover more about where he takes his inspiration from, I met up with Wetherill to discuss influences, the scene, and this mysterious folk revival.

Firstly, I asked him what it is about the tradition of folk songs and imagery which draws him to it. ‘‘Traditional songs are always really strong songs’’ he explains. ‘‘They stand up over hundreds of years, but because they're so old and so many people have done them it's a challenge to try and do something different with them’’. Although influenced by folk, Wetherill also incorporates more experimental, psychedelic influences into some songs, often playing several different instruments on a recording. Is he trying consciously to mould something new from something old, or does he simply write whatever comes to him at the time? ‘‘A mixture of both really’’ he says. ‘‘I try to do something completely different to the songs that aren’t my own, something that's maybe not been tried before. Before I was even writing songs I was experimenting with old ones, then I left that for a while and now it's fun to come back to it and integrate the two together’’. Surely then Wetherill must listen to more that just folk music? When asked about his influences he does mention a wide range of folk (‘‘traditionals, The Watersons, sea shanties’’) but he also lists the trippy jazz-rock of The Soft Machine.

So, does he have any plans for a full-length album any time soon? ‘‘I recorded one in August last year, which is waiting to be put out now’’ he tells me. ‘'Hopefully it's going to be out in the Spring’’. This brings us onto the question of whether live music is the ultimate form of expression, or whether the studio grants more freedom and is therefore preferable. Wetherill sees the two as separate entities, each with its own advantages. ‘‘It's a lot of fun [recording music]’’ he admits. ‘‘At the moment the recordings are quite different to the songs that I'm playing live’’. This is largely due to the fact that Wetherill has only been performing solo, unable to recreate all the textures and atmospheres that he overlays on record. That however, is about to change. ‘'[Leeds independent label] On The Bone are putting out a single for me and for the launch I'm getting a band together’’ he tells me.

What does Wetherill think about this concept of a folk revival that has been talked about so much recently, and does he consider himself part of this? Does he even take such concepts seriously? ‘‘Well, there's a lot of folk-influenced people that are getting more popular, so I suppose that’s kind of a revival’’ he says, sounding somewhat unconvinced. ‘‘There’s definitely a scene though. You can play all over the country and you'll meet people through that, which is great’’.

As we near the end of our conversation, I steer matters back in the direction of the music. I mention that there is a marked contrast of light and dark within Wetherill's music. Is this important and thought out, or does it just come naturally? ‘‘It happens naturally’’ he explains, ‘‘but thinking about it is important - if you're doing the same thing all the time it just gets boring for everyone. I'm just trying to communicate everything I feel and it certainly isn’t all doom and gloom!’’.

Wetherill is a particularly unusual artist. In the truest sense he is borrowing from the past and putting a new twist on it, and seems to be gaining critical acclaim by doing so. Before we part company though, I want to ask him one last question: how would he respond to someone who might argue that there is no point in playing music that is so influenced by the past and playing so many old songs - that music should be about moving forwards. ‘‘I could kind of see their point in a way, if I was doing it in the same style. But I'm not regurgitating. I'm not listening to old records and doing it in the same way. I think old music is important because it's good music, and putting it in a different context makes it modern’’.

You're never quite sure what to expect with Wetherill's music; each track seems to offer something unexpected. Over the next month or two his band will emerge, and I for one wait eagerly to see where this next step takes him. He’ll always surprise and excite the ears though – and for that reason alone he should be treasured.