With a voice that balances emotional vulnerability and poetic clarity, Marsha Swanson has carved out a unique space in the musical landscape. Her work evokes comparisons to icons like Kate Bush and Tori Amos, yet remains unmistakably her own—intimate, philosophical, and deeply human. In this candid and heartfelt interview, Marsha speaks with TAGG about her journey as a songwriter, the childlike magic of her earliest lyrical moments, and how that same spirit now fuels her broader mission to use music as a tool for emotional understanding and connection.
From the childhood kitchen where she first found her voice, to the haunting beauty of “Like an Angel,” recently reimagined as a fully produced single, Marsha invites us into her world of introspection, healing, and sonic storytelling. She reflects on grief, creativity, and collaboration with the sensitivity and insight that defines her music—revealing not just the process behind the art, but the soul within it.
You have a very distinct, evocative sound. When did you first discover your voice as a songwriter, and how has it evolved over time?
I loved the feeling of singing in childhood, making up melodies on the spot, and booming them out, the words appearing like magic. My first memory of writing a song was pacing around the well-worn yellow linoleum tiles in my kitchen, age 8, light streaming in from the garden window, singing with what can only be described as heartfelt leadership conviction! The main lyrical refrain was, “problems are only made to be solved, again and again, like clouds are only made to have rain. Don’t be a penguin that can’t walk, just talk and all your friends are listening to you”. I remember my dad smiling encouragingly, saying, “all penguins do is waddle, so a penguin who can’t, really, would be like a person who can’t talk”. Seeing that it tickled him gave me confidence. Fast forward to now, and it’s really not all that different! A penguin may not be my first choice of metaphor today, but the principle hasn’t changed. I am still advocating the value of music, words and discussion as a means of problem solving. In fact, I have recently founded a new music resource for schools called TroubleChutes www.troublechutes.co.uk published by Karnac Books, which specifically embodies the rhetoric of that little girl.
Your music often blends emotion, philosophy, and storytelling—how do you approach writing lyrics that are both deeply personal and universally relatable
The first task is understanding what the message is for yourself. The process of songwriting is much like dream interpretation in that you have to work hard to catch the phrases from your unconscious free flow. I sing without censorship, regardless of how illogical it may seem. Once the underlying theme is identified, often helped by the atmosphere of the music, it can become universal, and the conscious mind can then join the party.
Do you have a particular creative ritual or space that helps you get into the right headspace to write or record?
I don’t. I trust the process, so I have never been in battle with it. It is not an area that I have ever applied pressure to or felt pressured by so I am able to follow my natural instincts.
Many fans compare your work to Kate Bush or Tori Amos—how do you feel about those comparisons, and where do you see your place in today’s musical landscape?
I feel privileged that musicians who mean a lot to me resonate through me. Whilst fashions in music change all the time, there will always be a place for music that offers a reflective space, because human emotions don’t change; they are timeless.
If you could describe your artistic mission or message in one sentence, what would it be?
To translate emotional insights into music and words in a way that can aid understanding and elevate the human condition.
The transformation of “Like an Angel” from a ghost track to a fully produced single is fascinating. What made you feel now was the right time to bring it to life?
Emotionally, grief was too close to give it its own full space on “Near Life Experience”, yet it needed to exist somewhere on the album for integrity. It was the backdrop to what was going on contextually during the making of the record, but it wasn’t what it was about. Leaving it as an untitled track that could be discovered by those sitting with the album long enough felt fitting. It also allowed me a more gradual exposure. The positive response to the track once found, along with distance and perspective, afforded this new version its rightful place.
There’s such emotional depth in the music video. What was the most powerful moment for you during its creation or when you first saw it completed?
Thank you. At the end of the video, the light that has been guiding the way transforms into a human shape, and there is this realisation that it is the lost loved one who has been guiding all along. The most emotional moment during creation and when seeing it completed was that first glimpse through the glass-like partition of mutual recognition.
The animation is rich in symbolism—what are some visual elements you think fans should pay close attention to in the video?
There is a bird at the start representing freedom of movement as well as separation via flying away. There is a literal and metaphorical path to re-connection guided by the light. There is help along the way from kind faces who can hold up and reflect back images from the past. The meeting place in the clouds and sky symbolises the timeless interconnectedness as well as the vastness of grief, longing and love. The angels symbolise both religious and non-religious shared iconic meaning. The concept of sky dwelling beings with bird-like wings who protect us has long been linked to loss and helping us through.
You’ve worked with Sam Chegini several times now. What makes him the ideal visual collaborator for your music?
He understands it at the emotional level, not just the intellectual. He recognises it deep inside himself, or else he cannot work on it. This means I can hand over the freedom of expression to him, knowing that he has completely stepped into my world and is experiencing it alongside me.
The themes of grief, guidance, and spiritual connection run through this piece—how did those themes come to life musically and visually in tandem?
I was already being guided by love and admiration when I wrote the lyrics so that part flowed easily. When I took it to the studio with Henry Thomas, the first part of the process was an intimate rehearsal space where Martyn Barker and Tony Qunta joined us to create the core foundational backbone of the piece. It was the close connection between us all, the history of having worked together on “Near Life Experience”, their own experiences of loss, as well as their own emotionally attuned sensibilities, that enabled the themes to come to life musically together in the room. Visually, Sam had the image of the guitar playing in the clouds from his very first listen of the ghost track. It was the second recording, with all the added musical layers, that enabled him to visualise the hallway with the angels, leading to what he came to call “The meeting place” in the clouds.
How do you balance vulnerability with artistic control when making something so emotionally raw and personal?
A feeling starts the process raw and bleeding, and yet you can’t write from that place. It can’t exist as music. By the time I have written the song, I am already less vulnerable because the fleshing out and honing is the healing. The original issue has already undergone several transformations, having moved from a personal journey of discovery and self-expression to something understood, a message that can be learned from and shared publicly.
You’ve collaborated with some incredible musicians on this track. What did they bring to the process that surprised or inspired you?
I have been so lucky to work with exceptional musicians who continually inspire and surprise with the extra depth and richness that they bring. Henry Thomas (Paul Weller, Billy Ocean, Randy Crawford, Gloria Gaynor, Herbie Hancock) comes with a mountain of experience, a unique ability to break down processes analytically, and an empathetic nature that makes him the ideal collaborator.
Building and cementing the core rhythm and foundation of the track, we had many good versions early on in the run-throughs. However, it was the moment when drummer Martyn Barker (Robert Plant, Marianne Faithfull, Ray Davies, Billy Bragg, Beth Gibbons) came up with the inspired final incarnation, played with perfect feel, that inspired the compelling counter rhythms of Tony’s guitar and Henry’s Bass. This was magical to experience live and was undeniable to all.
Another surprising moment was when Henry stayed up all night in order to write the string section after a technical issue resulted in lost files! As a classical viola player, he had previously written many lush string arrangements for “Near Life Experience”, so I trusted him implicitly, but seeing his productivity under these conditions was a significant moment to witness. Hearing Jen Douglas’s emotional live performance of it the next morning was the icing on the cake! During the editing and mixing stage, I got the full measure of his delicate choice of voicings, exquisite swells at key lyrical moments, alongside space and breathing room for the rest of the arrangement.
Another wow moment was when Tony Qunta (Odyssey, Hazel O’Connor, Imagination) played this beautiful, shimmery guitar, which really elevated the feel, sending shivers down our spines.
Henry had been wanting to introduce me to Swedish keyboardist Anders Olinder (Glen Hughes (Deep Purple), Pee Wee Ellis (James Brown Band), Peter Gabriel, Amy Winehouse) for quite some time. It didn’t take long for me to see why. His approach was thoughtful, and it was inspiring to see him play conversationally around the voices whilst we made sure to capture every spontaneous moment of magic.
Do you believe in the idea of songs having their own “timing”—that they sometimes wait for the right moment to be born or revisited, like this one?
I do. Some songs flow freely and are finished very quickly, others require multiple return visits. All the deep insights have had incubation time but we store them unconsciously until we are ready to channel.
Looking back at Near Life Experience, how does “Like an Angel” sit in the context of the album now that it’s been re-recorded?
It sits in its appropriate historical place as a record and evocation of belonging. Something that existed but was happy to stay hidden unless found. You could say it was a precious P.S. to those who resonated with my work. It matters not which version you discover first, whether the latest bloom or the earliest roots.
What do you hope stays with people after they’ve heard the song and watched the video? Is there a specific feeling or thought you want to linger?
I hope they can draw strength from the idea that the love we are mourning is also the same love that will help us through.
