Of Roses & Polaroid Love
A subtle warm breeze drifts in through the open paned window of the Coach & Horses. Red, green and yellow light bulbs glow from different nooks and corners around the room, while a ceiling fan whirs idly above. Just in front of a small makeshift stage sits a modest assemblage of people – some in chairs, others legs crossed on the floor – listening reverentially to American folk singer-songwriter Kesang Marstrand. Her guitar jangles sweetly, nails plucking the steel wound strings. Her voice blooms with silky warmth and withers in a hushed rasp.
And just when you think the moment couldn’t get any more ‘Sofia Coppola', a boy and girl ride past on a bicycle in the road beyond the pub’s window: girl holding on to boy’s shoulders, hair blowing in the oncoming wind.
This is the second of Marstrand’s two-night stint at the Coach & Horses, and another opportunity for the folkster to share her delicate songs with a new audience in person. From opening number Grow a Garden she loses herself to her performance, making you believe that even if it were solely you in the room she would still deliver each song with the same wholeheartedness.
“You have my special permission to download my latest album Our Myth for free,” says a smiling Marstrand, having been informed that Malta has yet to be granted access to Apple’s iTunes Store. Brushing her long chestnut hair back behind her ear, she continues with It All Comes Back and Any Kind of Blue, whispering a rather timid “thank you” in between.
Marstrand has a knack for covering the most unlikely material and making it not only work, but wholly her own in the process. Her version of the Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney duet Say Say Say, included on her 2008 debut Bodega Rose, was a great example of how inspiring covers could be when there’s actually some thought and effort put into it.
Perhaps with even more daring, tonight she performs Far From the Home I Love from the musical Fiddler on the Roof; a song that “parrallels my life a lot.” The transition from extravagantly-arranged-musical-number to skin-and-bones-acoustic-rendition is so seamless that it must get other female folk artists wondering how they had never thought of that before.
Marstrand’s lyrics can, for the most part, be safely filed under the love category. Avoid the happy-ever-after Disney section though; these are more the Polaroid film version: grainy, spontaneous, prone to fade over time with just a scribbled line remaining below to remind you of what once was. On Today Next Year she croons, “Now I'm thinking that I should've sung you Happy Birthday softly with my lips against your ear/So I'll do it in my mind now/And I'll do it in the flesh if we're together today next year.”
From her flower-child good looks to her humble disposition, everything about Kesang Marstrand is beautifully understated and captivating. She draws her set to an end with the romantically melancholic Bodega Rose, with its images of endless nights, entangled bodies, and freshly cut red flowers. With another quiet “thank you” that is barely audible over the affectionate applause, she unplugs her guitar, leaving those present to slowly come out of her dreamy spell.
