In Glen David Gold's magnificent story 'Carter beats the Devil', the titular magician Charles Carter visits a fortune teller whose sole revelation is the name of the woman of his dreams - Sarah. It's a name that never leaves his mind. A few years ago I had a similar experience...
Don't look at me like that, I only went to keep a friend company, and quite frankly the lady in question certainly couldn't muster abilities to trouble either James Randi's proffered million or Tim Minchin's offer of his left leg, piano and wife. She did tell me about a man called 'Steve', who is supposedly destined to be the great love of my life. 'Steve'. It's hardly an auspicious name.
All that preamble brings me in a roundabout way to my point; Teitur Lassen and his songs of love yet to come. Teitur is a singer/songwriter of the fay variety, who is out to pluck heartstrings with his plaintive voice. Chances are you'll have already heard one or two of his songs on some film or another; yet despite wit and craftsmanlike skill, not to mention artistic accolation from the likes of Rufus Wainwright, the Faroese singer's profile is woefully low in the UK.
Don't be mean - his Gran made him that jumper.
Teitur may be an unabashed romantic but his music is far from being a boring dirge of fragile emotions. Fourth studio album 'The Singer' is full of grand ambitions, breezy soundscapes and a cavalcade of interesting arrangements that flow alongside heartfelt writing. It's music with deep pauses that allows the sighs to escape.
As for my story, since my visit to 'Gypsy Rose' I've only ever met one Steve; Steve-the-Barman, who worked all the hours under the sun at the pub at the top of my old street. Upon whom I had a hopeless, not to mention paralyzing, crush. It was all I could do to stop myself breaking things out of nervousness as I tried to force out the odd word. Then I found out he had a girlfriend. So much for destiny anyway.
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