When you push through the Bavarian ur-Wald and you pop out in El Paso, the horse with no name will eventually lead you to the promised land. Now, as before, it is the endless horizon for the seeker. It’s a life-long pull, a need to sooth, all travelling minstrels, blues hobos, and heartworn cowboys have passed this way before. Channeling Mediterranean and bucolic roots, deep European pastoral-melancholy, Andy Aged has embarked on a unique form of triumphant road poetry. Andy is foremost a plaintive young harpist, a gentle and ageless soul, but then he is extremely modern, his intuition and understanding of inner and outer landscapes. A composer of easy tunes, rolling loveletters to glowing nights at the campfire, jangly light harmonies before daybreak, an uncanny ability to slow time to geological pace is present in his moods. A man and his harp, some cheery vagabonds along for the pilgrimage, all of the ancient/modern world at his fingertips.
Words by Joel Isaac Black
Photography by Leonardo Julian Rossi