There are artists who are independent in the music industry sense, and artists who are independent in mind, spirit and the sheer bloody-mindedness with which they’ve made something of themselves. Nell Bryden fits both descriptions, and has the stories to prove it.
The funny ones, about thinking she was the next Maria Callas for a minute, or sleeping on a promoter’s couch that still bore the outline of the previous itinerant musician. The gritty ones, about 14-hour bus journeys to the next gig. The poignant ones, like witnessing 9/11, sacrificing her romantic life for years to pursue her artistic dream, and watching her hair fall out along the way. And, now, the triumphant ones, like establishing herself as a singer-songwriter of real distinction and finding true love in the process.
The journey from Nell Bryden’s birthplace in Brooklyn to a career-redefining fifth album ‘Wayfarer,’ and a virtual residency on the BBC Radio 2 playlist has been long, rarely without incident, and often rather strange. The key thing, though, is that she made it, like a good wayfarer always does, and her songs are all the richer for it.
Born as punk was sinking its teeth into the British zeitgeist, and just before Elvis left the building, Nell’s childhood was never less than challenging. “My mum was a classical soprano,” she says. “At eight and a half months, she was singing in Carnegie Hall with me in utero. Then a month after I was born, she was out touring again, taking me with her.