Singer-songwriter and painter Joanne Robertson lives and works in London. Her songs are more akin to sketches, outlined by her voice and guitar – unsettling waking dreams captured with the devices of a folk musician, fleeting diary entries uttered into a laptop microphone. Although the title of her current album “Black Moon Days” makes reference to the dreamy melancholy of Nick Drake or Judee Sill, for example, Robertson’s songs are founded on an oppressive realism, far removed from chasing after some supposedly idyllic past.
