Candice Night: Reflections

You-know-who’s missus on a first solo run.

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Had she been born in the 1530s, Candice Night would have been massive. Competent on the hurdy-gurdy and the shawm, comely and fair of face, possessed of a voice suited to both the church and the bed- chamber, she could probably have married Henry VIII or Thomas More or someone and got herself on a tapestry.

As it is, she must slog away in a tiny niche – that of cod-renaissance music reliant on formal chord progressions like Black Roses or the aery-faery lyrics of Wind Is Calling.

And with Robin Red Breast, Night teeters precariously on the edge of parody.