Devon Sproule

Devon Sproule and Mike O’Neill play together on the guitar. They have taken it and made unexpectedly a CD from it. A bird’s eye view:

Devon, revered cultural fetishists, Devon was once folk musician. Rischel Raschel. She had flowers in her hair, a lady beard, guitar handy so that whenever a Lagerfeuerchen hissed, smoked American Spirits, hitchhiked through the states and killed some time, as the saying goes, in Charlottesville, Virginia. There were and are plenty of Quakers.Marble statues of the Founding Fathers and Tommy George, a handful of black-headed gulls, numerous Dunnocks and last but not least, the frequently encountered non-hazardous Karoline Crake. The young blonde Devon at that time was still playing religiously-inspired songs. Well you know, this Joni Mitchell song, to the sad and beautiful expression of the chaperone Joan Baez.

Devon Sproule Miss legs shaved only once a month. Laughed sleek types with tattoos in the face and gave himself about as alternative as currently many of us, armed with backpacks. She was “The Village Voice” therefore fantastic enough to take with barely 16 years old and a plate. “A refreshing-Sweetness” it was said in the dressing room of the critics. Folk, Country and a pinch of jazz. Well, friends, the E, U and F-music, I would love to here more dense from this idyllic setting, surrounded by the North American walnut trees. 
Devon but in the meantime already lived in Berlin, Knicker-buster. Kreuzberg stories up and down, Action Painting, method acting and yoga, it was not a real yoga, with her ​​partner, of course. The left turn grow a facial hair, shaved legs and had a fondness for old buildings. Devon pricked her tattoos on the butt and gave up smoking.

Let us now but go nitty-gritty: The “new” pane of Devon Sproule and Mike O’Neill calledColours and basically proves only one thing: that folk pop goes without cigarettes and plaid shirt.

Let’s talk about us

The songs on the disc of Devon and  Mike  rippling with calm deliberation and to himself. From “homecoming Gehn, bye, ocean, clouds and wind” is mentioned. Magic, Family, Pain. Feel-good songs made ​​for it to lie on meadows, each other to scrape the blades of grass, feed the ducks with bread pieces, to buy eggs from the farmer to paint with hands and stroll in the spring flea markets. With friends to have dinner and bring wine, and anyway at all to cook together. Macchiato Latte to drink to stick photo albums to choose Green, but ballots to forget home. Mike sings sometimes in duet with Devon. Otherwise, he closes his eyes, listens deep into himself and plays his chords.Since his slumbering soul, in this deep soothing guitar belly. Mike has been singing on the second title of the record, what’s going on: “Home, Home, Home» rhymes as on “Bones, Bones, Bones” and it is basically about the return home. No one was there, it teases: ” Magic in the Panic. “ Finding the Lost again, just to be alone. Getting older.

And so it goes also blithely on the disk. Beautiful melodies now and then something jazzy, bass and percussion long-drawn game. The same voice for about an hour. Very cautious, hardly noticeable mini-Solis also come before. It feels like one of those Gelbbauchschnäbler from Virginia, high up in the trees in the nest Geäste sitting or listening on a twig. The head turning, while soul hinbaumelt on. Or, as one of these nimble Spotted Sandpiper that collect, with a full belly bird and tired of locusts, on the lake shore to rest.

Charlottesville, Virginia, not only from a purely ornithological point of view is, irrefutably present on the album Colours . Without much fanfare, the two supply from a cozy window. A disc that is as harmless as greasy handprints on a freshly polished windowpane. An album that has no rough edges. Rather, a full program of “hot chocolate-feelings,” a need for pasta with tomato sauce or detour into the realm of the birds of the Atlantic coast of America; ” You want to wear pajamas and tell stories, best very good and nice friends “ twittered it, as the disc was came out last year.