God awful how so many musicians were chewed up and spat out by Covid and its merciless lockdowns and frightening threats. No quarter for them in that scrap.

Curious that some said the pandemic allowed them to collaborate with their muses, to plumb their creativity. Don’t know that many actually did.

The yoke of raw subsistence living eroded a lot of artistic energy. The inequity of jobless mainstream workers receiving lucrative handouts unavailable to creatives was a sharp and bitter rejection of their import. It left many of them stranded and more vulnerable than ever.

Vandemonian musician Van Walker, however, while belted about as much as anyone, was one bloke whose artistry, individuality and fascination with the under-currents buoying the human condition soared rather than floundered in that virulent netherworld.

It was an enormously productive period for him. And for a singer-composer who regularly tips songwriting norms on their ear, it was an especially innovative era. Given the universal futility and frustration of Covid, why wouldn’t you go out on a limb? Why not break a few while you’re at it?

The outcome of Van Walker’s efforts is a bit of everything that’s intriguing about songwriting: by turns, it’s stuff that’s poetic and melodic, insightful, biting and energetic, introspective and uplifting, even supernatural and transcendental.

Healing Descent, the seventh album to date in his lengthy career, features the best of all these in a kaleidoscope of inspired verses, great hooks and a few sharp turns into unexpected vales dappled with flashes of brilliance and colour. Yeah, big call but go have a listen for yourself, you’ll soon see.

The Green Man, and Underworld queen Persephone

Much of it is delivered with the deeply moody steel guitar work of Walker’s Canadian mate Chris Altmann which, combined with Walker’s acoustic handiwork – along with violin and cello strings, banjo, didgeridoo, accordion, percussion and some superb Tele chicken-picking from a raft of musicians – makes for a clever and varied musical travelogue.

What’s curious here is where the lockdown of spring 2020 found Van Walker’s grey matter. It was a time when people were anxiously waiting for a vaccine, an antidote, herd immunity, any kind of relief to the death and darkness Covid was serving up daily.

Walker’s Healing Descent tackles the uncertainty and hopes attendant to these emotions through a prism of mythology, classicism, poetic scrutiny, catharsis and, ultimately, an over-arching optimism. As he writes:

“When the west winds are raging at your door,

“And rain is like the ocean’s roar,

Don’t go dreaming about better times or to climb,

“You must go down every time.”

Down to where the fountainhead of self is found, is what he’s saying. The vehicles with which he navigates this descent, and its flipside ascent, include the seasons and their early ties with humans, with among others, pagans and ancient Greeks.

Persephone’s Return references the kidnapped queen of the underworld and daughter of Demeter, goddess of the earth and the harvest, tipping a hat to the “subtle yet rock-steady power of nature”.

Summer Thunder, Winter’s Last Words and Hades’ Lullaby pay similar homage to the seasons and their nature, while at times also referencing poignant relationship vicissitudes.

Pan, Arcadia, primordial ancient energies, nature’s soothe and violence, spirits within the trees and rivers and streams – all dovetail into Walker’s healing balm. None moreso, perhaps, than his Green Man, for the pagan symbol of rebirth and nature’s largely patient but absolute rule.

This figure doubles as a metaphor for the artists and creatives underscoring and protecting our humanity. Walker’s efforts in this regard shouldn’t go unacknowledged. You’ll find a lot of Jung, Thomas and Baudelaire behind his ruminations.

Starseed and the cover of Healing Descent.

In many ways, Walker’s one of his own Starseeds; cue his own words, “People who believe they were born on other planets, strangers from a strange land, etc, who have fallen to this blue planet perhaps to save this world while the illuminati lizard aliens run the show herding all the sheeple up for apocalyptic dinner”.

He continues: “Too much time online will make anyone feel alien. It’s what the media and powers-that-be endeavour to do: alienate us from ourselves and each other, driving a wedge between the super-wealthy and the common people before they sell us all as mere scapegoats.

“LGBTQ scapegoats, woke scapegoats, refugee scapegoats, homeless scapegoats … all the powerless and vulnerable groups, starting us fighting each other instead of them, while they continue to haul in unheard-of profits.

“We need to get our eyes back on the ball and off the identity issues. Inequality and injustice are rife. Housing unaffordable. Wages frozen. Prices through the roof. Forget the aliens and lizard kings and address this reality or get ready for the jackboots.”

If he’s starting to sound a little sharp, take a listen to Altmann’s rockabilly Telecaster kicking arse as well. Healing requires care and soothing remedies but sometimes it takes just that bit of a kick in the clacker. And Starseed Homesick Blues is just about the perfect prescription for that.

Healing Descent is available at https://cheersquadrecordstapes.bandcamp.com/…/healing…