Album Review: Poems & Lyrics by John Collie (1856)

No one will remember you in 169 years.
Simple fact, really.

Sure, there may be a mention of a long departed great-great from time-to-time.
Your crumbling headstone may elicit a brief sigh from a passer-by, saddened but never invested enough to act.
Or perhaps one day cleaned by Persimmon to inspire a song…

By successfully separating the worker from the means of production, the names of the average person are stamped on nothing.
If you didn’t leave anything behind, is there proof you were here?
Just another faceless worker for another forgotten company, if you’re even lucky enough to be employed in this yet-unnamed depression era.
A number in a database within the compromised network of a failing dictatorship.

As naught would likely remember that one son of John Collie and Mary Middleton.
If John Middleton Collie hadn’t self-published that book in 1856…
Were it not for the resurrectionist work of descendant, David Edwards…
If only Edwards hadn’t self-published an album of tracks based on the poetry of one of his 16 great-greats…
If it wasn’t for the great Kiwi pastime, popular amongst bored couples and the dying breed that is musicians; DIY.

And if there is one acronym that describes the music of David Edwards succinctly, it would be DIY.

Taking the DIY ideals, the name, and the lyrics straight from ancestor Middleton Collie’s book itself, the new Edwards release, Poems and Lyrics in the English and Scotch Dialects, features appearances from other great-greats and great-great-greats. Recorded over 7 years or so, Poems & Lyrics is available in at least four versions; a five-part taster, 20 tracks in English, 24 in the Scotch dialect, and then all 44 together. From experience, it helps to approach the albums in the order above, for my fellow lost.

The album, or albums, are deeply personal, and extremely niche, to the point as a whole they would really only be appealing to a select few; friends, family, Arts majors, fellow descendants, the Scottish, folk musicians, fans of poet Robbie Burns, those involved in the conception and production of the album/albums.

Wider appeal would likely be limited, though it’s harder to say now, with this trend of renewed interest in authenticity when it comes to art. Obviously, a natural rebellion again this highly curated (read as meaning fake) post-social media world. And there is nothing more authentic than a page turning audibly, the dull reverberation of a missed note, or a fingernail scraped fretboard. That said, in a daring move, the first track (Solitude) is an unconscionable 12 minutes long, which would likely alienate the goldfish memory of the Spotify listeners.

As I discovered last time, reviewing David Edwards is no mean feat.
There is no template, no known reference to compare to, though colleagues have had more luck.
Destined to be one of New Zealand’s most prolific unknown artists, the breadth of the Edwards’s back-catalogue is inconceivable, the songs sometimes impenetrable.
But such is the nature, if not the intention, of the Outsider Art label that Edwards affixes so proudly to his sleeve.

What that sounds like in this case is a collage of tracks spanning psychedelic rock (The Troubled Times – The Dying Monarch), acoustic free-verse (Autumn), reappropriated traditional folk standards (The Bard’s Lament), and a smattering of spoken word (Young Johnnie o’ the Birken Shaw), occasionally over bagpipes (Epitaph on a Pedlar, Celebrated for his Swiftness). The record is brilliant in flashes, frustrating in others, but never impersonal. There are moments of greatness, like the Clever Hansel additions and Celeste’s My Native Land, and equally moments of confusion. Constructed like a patchwork quilt, yet raw and almost unedited, much like history itself.

Undeniably it’s a novel concept, a unique idea, and a wholesome project for a proud family. Those with piqued interest can read more into it on the fiffdimension website. I’d also draw attention to the introduction of John Collie’s book, the words of which will resonate still, 169ish years later, with many self-taught DIY artists. In essence “No one taught me how to do this, so don’t judge or silence me, but you can praise me if you’d like.”

DIY isn’t just tradition; it’s resistance to forgetting, a way of leaving scratches in the dark even when no one’s listening. Like John Middleton Collie of Boyndie, Scotland before him, Edwards has made his smear in the footnotes of history, ripe for resurrection in 2194. You can find all versions of Poems & Lyrics by John Collie (1856) on the David Edwards Bandcamp. Start with the teaser.