Copenhagen-based artist Clarissa Connelly makes her Warp debut with a version of a 16th-century lament, drawing her influence from Celtic mythology and folklore.
When she moved from Scotland to Denmark in the early 2000s, the ghosts of the Celtic north followed Connelly. She found herself surrounded by an unfamiliar ancient landscape that fascinated her and fed her imagination; and when she wrote 'Voyager', her last full-length, she attempted to track down some of the buried fortresses and dolmens of the pre-Christian world. 'Wee Rosebud' is an extension of that concept, a re-imagining of an early modern lament that's heavily inspired by Celtic traditions - there's even a candlelit cèilidh in the video.
Musically, Connelly makes quite an impression; her voice carries the song, first formed into choral loops, then peacefully melting into a subtle lute 'n flute backdrop. She's got a theatrical range, capable of capturing Kate Bush's high drama or Vashti Bunyan's soothing lilt, but there's something unique about her arrangement. Connelly's a studied listener, and manages to signal her influences without quite absorbing them completely.
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Copenhagen-based artist Clarissa Connelly makes her Warp debut with a version of a 16th-century lament, drawing her influence from Celtic mythology and folklore.
When she moved from Scotland to Denmark in the early 2000s, the ghosts of the Celtic north followed Connelly. She found herself surrounded by an unfamiliar ancient landscape that fascinated her and fed her imagination; and when she wrote 'Voyager', her last full-length, she attempted to track down some of the buried fortresses and dolmens of the pre-Christian world. 'Wee Rosebud' is an extension of that concept, a re-imagining of an early modern lament that's heavily inspired by Celtic traditions - there's even a candlelit cèilidh in the video.
Musically, Connelly makes quite an impression; her voice carries the song, first formed into choral loops, then peacefully melting into a subtle lute 'n flute backdrop. She's got a theatrical range, capable of capturing Kate Bush's high drama or Vashti Bunyan's soothing lilt, but there's something unique about her arrangement. Connelly's a studied listener, and manages to signal her influences without quite absorbing them completely.
Copenhagen-based artist Clarissa Connelly makes her Warp debut with a version of a 16th-century lament, drawing her influence from Celtic mythology and folklore.
When she moved from Scotland to Denmark in the early 2000s, the ghosts of the Celtic north followed Connelly. She found herself surrounded by an unfamiliar ancient landscape that fascinated her and fed her imagination; and when she wrote 'Voyager', her last full-length, she attempted to track down some of the buried fortresses and dolmens of the pre-Christian world. 'Wee Rosebud' is an extension of that concept, a re-imagining of an early modern lament that's heavily inspired by Celtic traditions - there's even a candlelit cèilidh in the video.
Musically, Connelly makes quite an impression; her voice carries the song, first formed into choral loops, then peacefully melting into a subtle lute 'n flute backdrop. She's got a theatrical range, capable of capturing Kate Bush's high drama or Vashti Bunyan's soothing lilt, but there's something unique about her arrangement. Connelly's a studied listener, and manages to signal her influences without quite absorbing them completely.
Copenhagen-based artist Clarissa Connelly makes her Warp debut with a version of a 16th-century lament, drawing her influence from Celtic mythology and folklore.
When she moved from Scotland to Denmark in the early 2000s, the ghosts of the Celtic north followed Connelly. She found herself surrounded by an unfamiliar ancient landscape that fascinated her and fed her imagination; and when she wrote 'Voyager', her last full-length, she attempted to track down some of the buried fortresses and dolmens of the pre-Christian world. 'Wee Rosebud' is an extension of that concept, a re-imagining of an early modern lament that's heavily inspired by Celtic traditions - there's even a candlelit cèilidh in the video.
Musically, Connelly makes quite an impression; her voice carries the song, first formed into choral loops, then peacefully melting into a subtle lute 'n flute backdrop. She's got a theatrical range, capable of capturing Kate Bush's high drama or Vashti Bunyan's soothing lilt, but there's something unique about her arrangement. Connelly's a studied listener, and manages to signal her influences without quite absorbing them completely.