Clarke Camilleri
A song writer, busking, moving around, and making these stories into songs.
A song writer, busking, moving around, and making these stories into songs.
Clarke is a roaming song-maker whose music resists easy labels. Raised in Nottinghamshire and steeped in the echoes of the UK blues and folk revival, he grew into a true troubadour, rolling from country to country, usually with his banjo in tow.
"I love the access that being a musician gives you into other lives. I like being brave with it and seeing where it takes me." His writing is eclectic yet unmistakably his own, shaped by the many musical worlds he has wandered through, weaving together folk traditions from across the globe. The result is a body of work woven from countless stories, some light, some heavy, all deeply human.
In 2020 he released his debut solo album, The Rollin' Hills of Home. Since then, he has lent his voice and playing to Angeline Morrison's award-winning The Sorrow Songs: Folk Songs of Black British Experience (The Guardian's Album of the Year, 2022), performing as part of Morrison's four-piece touring band. He also collaborates with blues-folk musician Jinda Biant, and with his brother Victor Camilleri as The Good-Time Brothers.
Beyond the stage, he has worked as a fisherman, construction worker, fruit picker, deck hand, plasterer, gardener and busker, each role adding empathy, understanding and depth to the many worlds he writes about.
A multi-instrumentalist, he plays piano, banjo and guitar, and is always chasing the warmth and spontaneity of live acoustic music, from the session to the stage and to the studio.
There's a time when all I do is wonder,
A time when all I do is roam.
A time when I stop myself a'thinking,
On a life we could have known..
For you never know,
Oh you never know,
When this time'll go.
A moment passes in an instant,
Oh they pass us all too soon.
Slipped on by and left forgotten,
Unless they're given room.
For you never know,
Oh you never know,
When this time'll go.
So hold them and tell them that you love 'em,
Oh hold them and hold 'em oh so tight..
Hold 'em like you'll never leave 'em,
Although someday you might..
For you never know,
Oh you never know,
When this time'll go.
Oh you rollin' hills of home,
oh you rollin' hills of home.
Oh you look so pretty,
so pretty in the night,
The way you frame the sky,
what makes you care to try?
Oh you rollin' hills of home,
oh you rollin' hills of home.
Miles and miles away,
Lost in these games I play,
I can hear the blackbird sing,
amongst the dawn.
And nothin' sounds so sweet,
against the pounding of my street,
to think of you so near,
it leaves nothin' more to fear.
Oh you rollin' hills of home,
oh you rollin' hills of home.
Oh you look so pretty,
so pretty in the night,
the way you frame the sky,
what makes you care to try?
Oh you rollin' hills of home,
oh you rollin' hills of home.
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