berserkerpoetry by Steve Skafte

I've daydreamed for a decade of this kind of solo expression, one person speaking and playing guitar. This strange little brand of folk poetry is as honest as I can make it, immediate and heartwaking. I've always had this incredible obsession with starkness, with a capella songs and the least common emotional denominator.

It will be ten years ago this fall, the first time I ever set poems to music. A friend with a guitar came over in late 2008, and did his thing while I spoke. It was a revelatory experience that came to nothing, as did several other passing collaborations, including one that culminated in a single, poorly-attended live show in 2014. In the meantime, I performed my poems with voice only in many situations – at open mics, while writing live as a busker, and at book release parties for my various poetry paperbacks. All the while, I couldn't help feeling the constant restraint of not following my dreams, held back by the limiting factor in the monochromatic nature of unaccompanied words.

In 2015, I bought back a guitar I'd tried and failed to play seven years earlier, having sold it off when I needed the money. It was technically a different instrument that I got back – but an identical model – like a reminder to pick up exactly where I left off. I learned differently this time, finding the chords by ear, teaching myself from scratch just how to make music from nothing. It was like making new friends of old enemies, because I've always been a frustrated learner. I kept working, because I craved that independence, the ability to make it happen on my own. I'll never break up.

Playing while speaking is not a natural thing. It's rare among poetry performers to read while playing an instrument, and I quickly realized why. You may sing along while playing a melody, but your brain is controlling two opposing actions when you try to speak. Even my favorite musical poet (Ken Nordine with his "word jazz" recordings) always defers to his backing musicians. It took months for my brain to get it, constantly tripping over my fingers or my tongue, only getting one thing right at a time.

Poetry has always been my main form of expression, since I first wrote in 2005, the day after I turned eighteen. I've written thousands since, for anything that was crowding my mind. The eighteen tracks on this album cover a huge swath of my life – a lot of smalltown desperation, dark emotion, the joy of adventure, and strange stories I tell myself. There is no more immediate way to the heart of the matter, and I believe it, the rhyme and rhythm always carry me back where I belong.

The berserkerpoetry album was recorded in winter / spring of 2018, atop the narrow basement stairs in the church next to my house. I spent an hour there, every afternoon for four months, getting it all out. The thirteen tracks with music were captured live with one mic, no edits or overdubs. The rest feature background audio from the wilds of Nova Scotia.

I'm a writer, poet, photographer, musician, busker, and periodic short film maker from rural Canada. Absolutely anything that's heartwaking is everything that's worth it. Adventure is the cure for boredom.

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