On the enchanting You & i are Earth, Anna B Savage draws inspiration from deep histories, the land, and finding fulfilment at home. She talks Alan Pedder through the songs that have shaped her musical path.
There’s a maxim in the design world that a good design should progress from complexity to simplicity and not the other way around. For Anna B Savage, it’s also a pretty good design for life.
On her third album You & i are Earth, the London-born singer/songwriter pulls us into an intimate and unabashedly romantic space, lush and dewy, like tumbling into a world of permanent springtime and renewal. Savage is in love, you see, and this is unmistakably an album about the deep sense of fulfilment she’s found, not only in her partner but in the surroundings and community of her adopted home of Co. Donegal, Ireland.
Truthfully, neither of these two things are entirely new for Savage. Both the relationship and putting down roots in Donegal were well underway two Januarys ago, when her second album in|FLUX came out, but it took some time for her songwriting to catch up. “For that record I was working almost two years behind and I just needed to get it out,” she tells me over video call as her giant lurcher dog Fiadh tries to muscle in on the conversation. “But I already knew then that this new album was coming so when I was writing I sort of funnelled some stuff into the future, which was an interesting mental task to give myself.”
Now that future has arrived, it somehow seems even brighter and simpler than Savage had imagined. Any giddiness and uncertainty has given way to a feeling of steady, stormproof peace, not just in her relationship but also in her sense of self. She’s come a long way from the fretfulness and questioning of early songs like “Dead Pursuits” and “Two”. The woman who worried that she’d never amount to anything is now able to do music full-time, and has seen some of her biggest dreams come true. It's fitting, then, that the first sound we hear on the album is the gentle breaking of a wave on the North Atlantic shore. This time it's the birdwatcher herself who's coming in to land.
If the phrase “you & i are Earth” sounds familiar to you, then you’ve likely seen the hand-painted, 17th century plate that Savage has borrowed it from. Recovered from a London sewer and now in a museum, images of the white earthenware disc have been circulating on social media for at least a decade, inspiring everything from knitwear to designer bags. Other musicians have found their own meaning in it, too – American composer Vanessa Rossetto’s 2019 album of the same name was a meditation on loss, in contrast to Savage’s radiant songs about finding and being found.
Savage jokes at being a bit embarrassed that You & i are Earth is ‘just’ a love album. “Some people have assumed that it would be full of loss and heartbreak at what’s happening in the world,” she says. “And I get that, but my first thought when I first saw a picture of the plate, and read the one-line caption underneath, was that it was the most romantic thing I’d ever read in my life.”
She originally planned to use the phrase just for one song on the record, but the more she thought about it the more it made perfect sense to title the album after it, too. “My partner is really earthy and grounded,” she explains. “He comes alive in nature and loves this kind of slowness in life, and those were all things that really drew me to him when we first met. And that’s something that I have managed to cultivate more in myself, and that title felt like a nice way of expressing that.”
You & i are Earth, then, is music’s latest contribution to the great lineage of art that documents and celebrates romantic love in all its shapes and swells. Savage smiles when she talks about it, imagining a world 400 years from now, in a post-internet age, where if someone came across this album and listened to it without any context, they could instinctively place it somewhere in the family tree grown from one beautiful, romantic thing to another. “That’s what I hope for anyway,” she says, laughing.
When it came to choosing her Nine Songs, Savage wanted to try and reflect as many sides to her personality as she could fit into such a painfully small selection – from her childhood on the sidelines of the classical scene to her early vocal and guitar heroes, and a nod to her love of witty, funny lyrics. “It was hard, because I had 16 songs where I thought ‘I cannot cut a single one of these!’” she says, frowning. “But, fine, I had to do it. I would happily keep talking about these songs forever.”
“Dance, Ballerina, Dance” by Nat King Cole
BEST FIT: I know that Nat King Cole is someone who got played quite a bit while you were growing up, especially on car journeys. What sparked your connection with “Dance, Ballerina, Dance” in particular?
ANNA B SAVAGE: Yeah, we listened to him on car journeys and generally just a lot of the time, to be honest. We had The Unforgettable Nat King Cole compilation on CD, and this was one of the first tracks, so we would hear it a lot. It’s just such a vivid memory for me, when I think about growing up, learning to sing, and learning how music felt in my body.
There will be quite a few other examples in this list where I’d just be singing along to the tracks, but with this song especially I remember dancing to it all the time. And I would make people watch. I’d bring my sister into the room and be like, “You have to watch me dance to this song.” I really viscerally remember dancing in the kitchen to this song in front of my family, and I remember a few moments when everyone else would leave – because this album was just on constantly – and suddenly I’d be in the room on my own, listening to this song and just smashing my body around, and it just felt like everything made sense.
It's one of my earliest memories of dancing and feeling really embodied, really present, and really intimately knowing a song as well. I knew every moment of it. I could do an interpretive dance for every single second.
Did you ever have ambitions of becoming a dancer professionally?
No, I never did, actually! I think that it felt too much like performance, in a weird way, which I know is silly because I’m predominantly a singer and a songwriter and a performer. But I was always terrified of performing. It was a nightmare for me, so I preferred to just dance for myself.
I never did any dance classes when I was a kid, but I wish I had. I would have loved to. I remember one of my friends saw me dancing at a festival and he told me, “I just love seeing you dance, because it looks like the most natural thing in the world to you. You're not self-conscious. You're not thinking about it.”
Unfortunately, I think I've got a bit of self-consciousness since then, but when I was younger dancing was just super freeing. It was the one other thing besides singing that made me feel present and expressive and good.
“I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm” by Ella Fitzgerald
BEST FIT: Your next pick is an Ella Fitzgerald song originally written by Irving Berlin and released in 1958. I know that you've said and written a lot about Ella over the years.
ANNA B SAVAGE: Yeah, she's my number one – she always has been – and I feel like I spent my childhood trying to emulate her. I had proper singing lessons but I feel like my real singing lessons were just listening to Ella and trying to copy every single moment of her songs. Every breath, every turn, every accent, everything that she did.
“I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm” was one of the first songs – and this might sound slightly big-headed – where I could manage to do that. But I really had to work at it. I kept practicing and practicing. I would put the track back to the beginning and run through all the little turns again.
There are a lot of quite big intervals that happen quite quickly in this song, and of course she does as if it was nothing. She was an absolute genius. It's so funny thinking about it now, because I didn't even know I was working towards anything. I didn't know I was working, it was just play.
We had a songbooks collection but it wasn’t one of the classic ones, though it had a similar cover. I’d have to dig around and find it at my parents’ house to actually work out which one it was. I remember that it was quite a hodgepodge of songs, but it had “Bewitched, Bothered & Bewildered” on it, “I've Got My Love to Keep Me Warm”, and “’S Wonderful”.
It’s probably the album I’ve sung along to the most in my life. In my early 20s, if I had a party, I would put this album on at, like, three in the morning while I was tidying up after everyone had gone, and I would sing along while sweeping up and stuff like that.
Her vocal delivery is just obscene. She was actually perfect. This song in particular is so dexterous, so acrobatic. Obviously she didn’t write it herself, but it’s a really lovely expression of a kind of uncomplicated and gentle love, and I think it really fits her voice.
I, for one, am extremely here for the Anna B Savage jazz standards record should it happen someday.
Mate, you have no idea how much I would love that. I think I started songwriting because I didn’t really know how else to sing. If I could have had it my way, I would have been a female Michael Bublé or something, 100%. I would have loved to be a jazz singer but it just didn’t seem like it was feasible so I was like, “Oh, okay, I’ll start writing stuff.”
People like Ella used to just bang out three albums a year because they didn’t have to write any of the songs.
Yeah, fucking great! You know, my parents are classical musicians. They never wrote stuff. They were always performing other people’s music. And, you know, for the first 10 years or so of being a musician I was just doing covers because I didn’t know what writing a song involved or how I would do it. So yeah, doing a big band album is right at the top of my list, however the hell I can get that funded and make that happen.
“Ain’t No Sunshine” by Bill Withers
BEST FIT: Like “Dance, Ballerina, Dance”, this track was originally released as a B-side but ended up eclipsing the main single on the charts…
ANNA B SAVAGE: I didn’t know that! What was the A-side? “Harlem”? That’s wild.
Because “Ain’t No Sunshine” is pretty much seen as the Bill Withers song, right? How did it come into your life and what makes it so special for you?
Okay, I feel like whenever I do an interview that I’m always perpetually slightly embarrassed by myself because I feel like I haven’t done things in the right way, you know? Not that the right way exists. But when I was a kid, my parents didn’t really own albums, except for by The Beatles. They had a lot of compilations of different jazz singers but not really proper albums, and so I never really thought about albums that much.
As a teenager – or more of a tween, I guess – one of the main ways in which I discovered music that I loved was through film soundtracks. “Ain’t No Sunshine” is on the soundtrack to Notting Hill, which was how I found out about it. I had that CD, and I had the soundtracks for some other big rom coms like Bridget Jones’s Diary and Four Weddings & A Funeral, and those were a big part of my music education.
Forgive me, because I feel like I’m going to be repeating myself a fair bit, but looking back on things now I’m like, 'Oh, I was doing vocal exercises,' but at the time all I wanted to do was to try and sing the “I know, I know, I know, I know…” part all in one breath like Bill Withers did. I would sing it maybe five times a day or more, just trying desperately to get the whole thing in one breath. And once I could start singing it all in one breath, I would repeat it just to make sure that I could definitely do it.
I remember sitting on my bed with my CD player just playing it again and again and again, singing along. I even did it when I was lying down on my front, which is mad because it’s so much harder to sing like that. I must have tried to sing it in every position. Lying down, sitting up, standing. All of it.
I don’t even remember if I had watched the film before I got the soundtrack – maybe I got the soundtrack first – but I feel like that the moment in the film where they play this song really got to me. Like Nat King Cole and Ella Fitzgerald, Bill Withers’ voice had this quality of warmth and depth that made it feel really hospitable. I just wanted to live in their voices.
This is another example of me being a little fucking singing nerd without really realising it, just trying my absolute hardest to emulate someone who I knew was incredible but didn’t have any sort of vernacular to understand why. Listening to Bill, I guess I didn’t realise that the “I know” section was really quite a hard thing to sing. Though in his delivery, right at the end, it sounds like there’s a tiny bit of pushing and, to my ear, that was interesting. Like, ‘Oh, it sounds like he’s making an effort. I want to try that.’
So, yeah, again, this song is on here because it’s another one through which I was exploring my voice without really knowing that that was what I was doing. I was just latching onto things, to certain songs, and falling in love with them without knowing why. I guess because they are all so melodic, and the melodies are gorgeous and fun to sing. That’s really what it comes down to: I just really love to sing these songs.
“Pink Moon” by Nick Drake
ANNA B SAVAGE: I guess I am slightly using this as a cheat for including the whole Pink Moon album, but the song “Pink Moon” is especially good.
I feel like Pink Moon as an album was my best friend when I was 16 or 17. I would listen to it on my iPod every night as I was going to sleep, and I absolutely adored it. I adored him, and his songs were some of the first ones that I learned on guitar. The first song I ever learned was “Yellow” by Coldplay, but almost immediately after I learned how to detune my guitar to DADGAD so that I could play Nick Drake songs.
Most of the stuff that I write now is in kind of alternative tunings and I think that’s all because I wanted to play Nick Drake songs. Listening to Nick I was like, 'Oh my god, listen to the way that this sounds. How does it feel uplifting and melancholy all at the same time?' and I still don’t know how he made that kind of alchemy. For me, “Pink Moon” has that devastating and kind of uplifting sound that Nick Drake did so well, and it makes me sad saying that because, well, almost everyone knows the story of Nick Drake. I think you can really hear all the emotion in the songs. The emotion is so present, so on the surface, it makes me emotional thinking about it. [Blinking back tears] I'm actually gonna cry now. This is wild!
It… It just feels so profound to be able to access such depth of emotion and then present them in a way that really translates, and I think that’s all I’ve ever really wanted to do. I think I’m crying because I just feel so sad about him and his life. And I’m so grateful to him, because I really felt like he was kind of my best friend when I was 16. The Pink Moon album sent me to sleep every night and I would wake up and listen to it every morning, and it’s so sad. It makes me sad as well, to think about 16- or 17-year-old me chiming so much with it.
BEST FIT: I think we all feel a bit of loneliness as a teenager, but to connect with this album so strongly at that age says a lot about how you were feeling.
Yeah, I felt very much like this weird outsider, even though I was a relatively popular, white, blonde, blue-eyed, pretty, middle-class girl. Like, societally, I was not an outsider by any stretch, and I had no reason to feel like that. I think I was just a really sensitive kid, and it breaks my heart thinking about how much I loved that album because I identified with it so closely. It makes me want to give younger me, and also Nick Drake, a big old fucking hug.
Have you read that huge biography, Nick Drake: The Life, that came out a couple of years ago?
No, I haven't read that yet. I feel a bit nervous about it.
I went to a book reading by the author, Richard Morton Jack, and he was talking about how Nick wasn’t always this extremely unwell and troubled person but was quite fun and adventurous in his early years, and I found that quite touching.
It’s a sad truth that often it’s the people who are struggling the most who hide it so well that you can’t really tell that they are struggling.
It was interesting to me, when I released my first album, that people would come and chat to me after a show and be like, “Wow, you’re fun and chatty. I really thought you were going to be a complete downer from your album.” That got me thinking how hard it is to show all sides of yourself in music, and I don’t even know if I would want to. I don’t want to show people everything. I don’t want all of my personhood to be available to anyone who has Spotify, you know?
But, yeah, I bet Nick Drake could be really fun at times, and that he was also having a fucking shit time.
“Hallelujah Chorus” from Handel’s Messiah
BEST FIT: Let’s jump back 230 years for this piece from Handel’s Messiah. I loved learning that this iconic oratorio had its world premiere not in London or Hamburg or Florence but in Dublin! Do you have a favourite recording of it? One that you find yourself going back to over and again?
ANNA B SAVAGE: Well, it would be one of the recordings that my parents are on. I mean, the reason I chose this song is because, as a kid, I must have listened to this piece of music more than anything else in the entire world. My parents are in choirs so the run up to Christmas was all about Handel’s Messiah, and I was there for so many rehearsals and performances.
I wanted to choose it as well because it feels like an interesting insight into my childhood. Classical music was such a big part of my upbringing and I spent so much time backstage in all these places. For me, that was completely normal. I would be backstage, eating some McCoys crisps and playing on my GameBoy while listening to world-class performances of Handel’s Messiah, and honestly being quite bored. I’d just be wanting to go home and to have some friends to play with.
As a kid, I thought that was something that everyone experienced, but as I grew up I obviously realised that that is absolutely not the case. But, yeah, classical music is such a huge part of my musical makeup, and I feel like – even if I was preoccupied with playing my GameBoy – you can’t escape the osmosis that happens when you are around classical music all of the time. I feel like a lot of that experience is now quite audible in my music. Maybe not explicitly, but implicitly.
Did you have classical training on an instrument?
Not really. I did a bit, and I played a lot of instruments like clarinet, saxophone, piano, recorder, and violin. But I really didn’t enjoy the grade system of learning classical music. I didn’t like learning the theory.
Now, obviously I am kicking myself, because it’s super useful to have a musical language that you can share with other musicians. At the time, though, I really struggled with it, because it felt like it was turning something that I really loved into exams, which I hated. Every time I did an exam I would mess up because I was so nervous about messing up, and when I wouldn’t get the grade it felt like I was letting my whole family down. I don’t think they cared but I was convinced.
“Fallin’” by Alicia Keys
BEST FIT: Next you’ve chosen this classic debut single from Alicia Keys. How did this hit you in 2001?
ANNA B SAVAGE: I was 10 when this song came out and I fell in love with it, much like with a lot of the other songs, because of her vocal delivery. I could sing along to it, and again it was a challenge that I didn’t realise I was giving myself. I just really wanted to be able to sing exactly what she sings. I wanted to be able to sing that insane vocal run that she does right at the beginning.
All I wanted to do, especially as a kid, but also still now, was to impress my brother and sister. Always. I remember one Christmas when I was playing a game with them and I’m not sure if the song was playing or not, but I sang the first vocal run of “Fallin’” and I just remember my brother looking so shocked and so impressed. He was like, “Fucking hell, that was good,” and I thought, 'What? I got praise from my brother?'
I remember that because I think it was one of the first times where I thought, ‘Oh, I’ve got this vehicle or this instrument that maybe does stuff that’s quite fun or quite interesting for other people.' Both my brother and my sister are incredible singers, but the fact that my brother, who is 11 years older than me, thought that I was good made me start to think that I could actually do stuff of worth.
I must have watched the “Fallin’” video a thousand times, and obviously Alicia Keys is unbearably beautiful and she was so young at the time too. Only eight or nine years older than I was. Then there was the fact that she wrote the song herself and she was playing the piano herself. I thought, ‘Fuck, this person is amazing. I want to be like them.’
“Fallin’” has such an amazing melody, and it’s such a vocal challenge to sing the whole thing in the way that she does, and I just fucking loved it. It was like going to the gym, but there was no sweat, only joy and endorphins. I played the single incessantly, wanting to get lost in her voice and to emulate her voice. I wanted to be her, basically.
“Lump” by The Presidents of the United States of America
ANNA B SAVAGE: I had to choose something from The Presidents of the United States of America or Tenacious D, because in my childhood I was kind of obsessed with comedians, and I still am. I feel like there’s a classic thing of musicians being obsessed with comedians, and I am totally okay to continue that. The realisation that you could blend music and comedy, or comedy-adjacent surrealism – whatever it is that the Presidents do – felt like it was opening up a whole new world to me. Like, music doesn’t just have to be kind of earnest and serious.
I know my music is perceived as very earnest and serious, but I think there’s quite a lot of jokes in there. Maybe they are housed a little bit too deeply within the emotional turmoil, but I feel like they are there. It feels a bit embarrassing to say but I’m pretty goofy. I don’t take myself super seriously all the time. And I feel like the Presidents and Tenacious D really helped me with that – not that I probably needed any help – because here were adults who were being really fucking stupid and fun. But, and I only realised this after the fact, they were acting stupid while also writing incredible and kind of virtuosic music, and performing it in such a way that it packs a real punch.
When I started trying to play Tenacious D songs, I could play an approximation of them but I was nowhere near. Actually, a lot of the Tenacious D vocals I can’t quite do and I have never been able to. I don’t know if there’s a particular flavour or something that Jack Black’s voice has but, yeah, I can’t do it. I can learn an Ella Fitzgerald song but I can’t quite manage Tenacious D, so take from that what you will!
I loved the idea that you could make a career out of making music that is silly. That made me so happy. I don't want to give a false impression that I was just sitting in my room like a little cherub, only doing vocal runs to Ella Fitzgerald and the greats. I was also smashing around singing to “Lump” and pretending to air guitar or whatever.
I have so much time for non-serious music, and I felt like I wanted to express that. It feels really nice to be able to give a little nod to how much I love certain fucking stupid things in music. I’d say I have as much time for the fucking stupid things as I do for the really, really emotionally fraught ones.
I feel like some of my happiest memories have been discovering other Presidents fans, other Tenacious D fans, and doing that embarrassing thing where you just sing an entire song at each other. In those moments, it feels like you both are so buoyant, like you’re being lifted off the ground. I did that quite recently with a friend, with “Lump” actually. Neither of us knew that the Presidents had been such big parts of each other’s lives, but once we realised it was like, ‘Oh, you make so much more sense to me now. Now I know why we’re such good friends, because we have this shared stupid fucking language.’
“Lua” by Bright Eyes
BEST FIT: Next up is something that’s a bit more in the vein of what you do now. What is it that you love about “Lua”?
ANNA B SAVAGE: My first time hearing Bright Eyes was the song “First Day of My Life”, but the second time was “Lua”, and from that moment on I was possibly the biggest Conor Oberst fan in the world. I remember there were about five years of me as a teenager being disgustingly earnest. Disgustingly. I’d be singing along to things like “I slept with that dealer all summer / The ecstasy’s still in my spine” [“Coat Check Dream Song”], not having a fucking clue, but still being like, ‘Oh god, he just gets me in a way that no one else does.’
It was so melodramatic, but also so specific and incredible. Somehow every song has at least one moment that really fucks you up. I feel like Conor packs so much into his songs. They are so dense, lyrically and ideologically. And the interesting thing is that, unlike a lot of the songs we’ve talked about, where I set myself a challenge, with Bright Eyes songs I could play a lot of the guitar parts quite easily and suddenly I was able to really inhabit songs like “First Day of My Life” and “Lua”. I could sit in them, and it was one of the first times that I felt like I could be personally devastated by a song that I was just playing for myself. I feel like “Lua” was one of the covers I played at my first ever show.
It’s so funny now but I think Conor is the only person that I’ve never met who I would refer to only by their first name, because all my friends were obsessed with him too. We were always saying things like, ‘Oh, Conor would probably do this’ or ‘Maybe Conor would think about it like that.’ So I wanted to pay homage to that time, because his output was so important to me from the ages of 14 to 19 or 20.
But of all the music on this list, I would probably say that Bright Eyes might be the only one that I feel like I’ve slightly grown out of. It feels a bit mean to say but I guess I need both now: I need the torturedness, but I also need a real levity and lightness. And I don’t always feel like Bright Eyes can give any levity or lightness at all. That’s maybe not who I am now, but back then it was incredibly important, and also important from a songwriting perspective to realise how specific you can be in lyrics and how much you can pack in. Not that I necessarily do, but that felt really inspiring. And also just the fucking amount of stuff that he writes. I don’t know how he writes as much as he does.
“Shiver” by Coldplay
BEST FIT: If Bright Eyes is the only one you’ve grown out of, that implies that you are still a Coldplay fan…
ANNA B SAVAGE: Ha! Completely unashamedly, yes! “Yellow” was a giant song in my life, and the first one I learned on guitar, but “Shiver” was the Coldplay song for me. It’s the one that started off my obsession.
Parachutes and A Rush of Blood to the Head are still two of my favourite albums. I absolutely cannot believe what they did with those two albums, and I can’t believe that those two albums are as popular as they were, because they’re fucking weird. No major label these days would let people write songs like that and put them out. You just wouldn’t be allowed. I listen to those albums now and I’m like, ‘How the fuck have you guys got this winning formula of writing kind of nothing-y lyrics?’ That’s not usually my jam. I like the universal and the specific, and yet I have cried to Coldplay more than probably any other artist, and I’ve also felt the most amount of joy.
Vocally, “Shiver” is a fucking acrobatic feat, and I loved singing along to it. Every time I sang that huge jump in the word ‘shiver,’ I could feel my body respond. I’d get goosebumps when I sing that song. I start crying when I sing that song. And I feel like those two albums are full of these moments where I don’t quite know how they pull them off. There’s obviously some music thing that they were tapped into, or maybe they have specific intervals that they’re always toying with, but they just fuck me up. They do a lot of that thing where you repeat the same thing three times and then change it on the fourth time, which I know is something that we humans tend to find really satisfying.
There’s quite a lot of angst in those first two records but there’s also so much gentleness and intimacy. On You & i are Earth, there’s one song where, towards the end of the recording process, I was thinking that I wanted it to feel like the song “Parachutes”. I wanted it to have this moment where suddenly everything gets quite small. I wanted it to be a live take, and I wanted it to be basically as short as possible.
But, yeah, I’m still such a fan of the first two Coldplay records. I think they’re perfect. I find that when I haven’t listened to them in a while, when I do go back to them they still make me feel all the things. I’m like, ‘Yeah, these songs are what it’s all about.’ It’s wild to me that Parachutes was their first album and A Rush of Blood to the Head was their second album, because they are staggeringly good. And I feel like they changed so much between those two records. They were kids when that first album came out and their success came so quickly.
I watched the documentary about them, A Head Full of Dreams, and it made me think a lot. I know that no one thinks Coldplay are cool, and that’s fine, but I think that it’s very easy to dismiss people who are trying to be positive and trying to do good things. It’s not cool to try to be positive and try to do good things, right? But I just love that unabashed earnestness that they have, this deep uncoolness that they still inhabit to this day. Okay, so they bounce around a lot and wear slightly stupid outfits, and people love to fucking hate on that, but, yeah, all that might not be for me but I feel like if someone's being positive and they're trying to spread good shit in the world, then fucking great. I love that. We need more of that. So, yeah, big Coldplay fan.
I do agree that Chris Martin is pretty underrated as a vocalist.
Right? He’s amazing. I was listening to Parachutes recently and I noticed that he basically never uses any vibrato, which is wild. Everything is sung flat. As someone whose vibrato is quite out of control, I find that quite amazing. I feel like we as humans respond to vibrato and the slight softness at the edges, but he just doesn’t do it. It’s weird to me, but it sounds so good. Part of me thinks that maybe that’s actually a choice that he’s made, like the lyrics being kind of nothing-y – he makes things more universal. I don’t know, but these are just my little nerd thoughts about Coldplay.
You & i are Earth is out now via City Slang Records. A European tour starts in Bristol on 12 February.
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Anna B Savage
You and i are Earth
