In true country tradition, this Canadian singer-songwriter has found inspiration on the road -from Montreal to Mississippi, and now Melbourne.

Born into folk and honed in country, Maike’s influences (from the greats; Emmylou, Gram, Neil, Lucinda, to indie heroes, The Sadies) spurred her to process the world through songwriting.

Sights, sounds, places, experiences, textures, and seasons, find their way to the page.  From childhood years in a folk community on Canada’s west coast, Maike was drawn to the buzzing music scene of Montreal – a move meant for a year that lasted a decade, and made a home for life…until the next calling, and it was no mistake that Maike then landed in the vibrant musical tapestry that is Melbourne.

Circumstance brought Maike to live in Clarksdale, Mississippi, for seven years. With some time on her hands, and absorbing the magnetic musical energy of the delta, she kept on writing. This album is a faithful representation of time and place, and the relationship with the delta is ongoing.

Settled back into Melbourne, she’s assembled a stellar band of musicians to lend the songs new light:

Meghan is joined by Steve Hewitt on guitar (Possible Humans), Matthew Cotter on drums (Even, Bagful of Beez, The Swarm), Nicholas Pollock on keys, and Drew Parsons on bass.

Meghan says of ‘Redbird’:

“This is a song about my friend Jimmy. I could tell you all about his life, but listing facts wouldn’t do him justice, so I wrote a song about him instead.

He liked living outdoors, and didn’t like riding in cars, so when we’d go for lunch at the Mexican restaurant in town it had to be by bicycle, which suited me just fine. As he didn’t have a phone, our plans were made in person, in advance, which is such a novel concept these days. At the prearranged time, he’d be waiting on the bench under the fig tree outside my work in rural Mississippi. We’d ride along the country roads – him puffing away on his tobacco pipe. After a couple of beers at lunch, we’d head home a little giddy, and pass the pipe back and forth between us as we rode. That shit ain’t for the faint of heart!

He’d tell me stories as we rode, of growing up in Clarksdale in the 60s, how his dad was a crop duster, how he used to pick Conway Twitty up from the local airport when he’d come to town to visit his restaurant, Conway’s, on Moon Lake, or about the years living in a commune in Tennessee.

Winters are surprisingly biting in northwest Mississippi, as the wind rips across the delta. As Jimmy was not a fan of the cold, as soon as the air got crisp in autumn, he’d head south to Mobile, Alabama – by kayak. Sunflower River, to the Pearl, and along the Gulf, taking about six weeks. Once the winds turned warm in spring, we’d all start to get excited – Jimmy would be home soon! Never quite knew when, but sure as the seasons, he’d show up one day, and off we’d ride to lunch.

He had kind eyes and a really soothing presence. Even though he passed on, he still holds a very real place among those who knew him. While I’m not there to swap stories about him with friends, I sing this song for him – it keeps him around.”