Floating blissfully down the winding reaches of a lazy river, York’s hidden gem lazes in the magic of seasonal change as she gently meanders into dewy-eyed contemplation.
Close your eyes with me for just a second. A stream lightly burbles as it travels along its bed, bubbling over rocks and kneeling branches. The sun peeks through the gaps of blooming wildflowers awakening from the frosty clutches of their winter slumber. In the middle of the bourn sits Ellis, poised with a stillness and simplicity to match the placidity of the idyllic scenery.
As the tuneful song of soaring blackbirds permeates the air with a mellifluous chitter, our narrator undergoes a periodical transformation much like the equinox seen before her very eyes; but one of mind, not vision. Nostalgia is a delicate beast, a sacred mosaic of moments that will never falter or vanish, and in this instance Ellis savours every last sentiment.
“This song is about the freshness that comes with the changing of the seasons. There’s a moment in each transition when the wind changes temperature for the first time and you can smell the new season in the air. This always brings a feeling of a memory, like when you wake up from a dream and you can’t remember what happened but the feeling is still there. It’s an old feeling, made up from fragments of what that season felt like when I was a child, it grounds me, makes me feel at home and whole, although there is something slightly sad about it at the same time.”
Modesty is a rare and precious quality, a golden facet that can sometimes be misconstrued for meekness; this is the antithesis. This minimalist folk-inspired ballad takes the bare-bones of compositional and coats it with a reticent bravado. Ellis has uncovered the clarity in derealisation, highlighting the idea that it’s not all negative connotations. Those memories that feel real enough to touch are the vessels that mould our behavior. Think of it this way, we’re the clay and Ellis this the gifted sculptor, and its say to say we’re in very capable hands.