A folk song from New Zealand finds the pulse of a pandemic paradox.
Anna Rowley writes from the edge of the world, or at least it feels that way.
Her home, perched on the shores of Lake Hawea in New Zealand’s remote south, imbues her music with a clarity that only vast skies and mountain silence can provide.
A dedicated follower of Paul Simon’s nuanced craft, she sculpts songs that are both emotionally potent and subtly uplifting, a balance evident across her well-received albums Radiate and The Landing.
Her work doesn’t shout; it settles in the room, asking for your attention with a gentle, persistent pull. The standout track ‘Will to Trust’ from The Landing is a perfect example of this compelling quietude.
The song was born in the global unease of the pandemic, a period Rowley watched with acute observation as conspiracy theories metastasised into real-world angst.
It made her question the very architecture of belief. What she crafted from that questioning is deceptively spirited.
A snappy banjo line kicks things off, riding a lively, steady beat that feels borrowed from a front porch folk session.
This bright, old-timey texture creates a fascinating dialogue with the song’s sober core.
As Rowley’s warm, conversational vocals unwind lyrics concerned with distorted truth and societal fracture, the instrumentation feels like a lifeline, a reminder of communal joy even when singing about division.
Recorded in a whirlwind ten-day session in a local studio with producer Danny, the track is a marvel of organic chemistry.
The arrangement is full but never crowded, giving Rowley’s voice and weighty theme room to breathe.
View this post on Instagram
It showcases the evolution hinted at in The Landing, where her lyrics hold multitudes and her melodies turn interesting corners without losing their accessible glow.
In ‘Will to Trust,’ Anna Rowley achieves a rare feat. She captures a specific moment of modern paralysis, the struggle to discern truth in a noisy world, and sets it to a rhythm that makes you want to move forward.
It is thoughtful music for both the background and the foreground, proof that the most potent messages often arrive not with a bang, but with the spirited, complicated strum of a banjo.
