Imagine this: it's late 2012, perhaps early 2013. You're in your grade 12 biology class, sitting close to the back of the room under the buzzing flourescent lights, the teacher going on about hormones and feedback loops or something. Somehow, you come across the music video for Keaton Henson's song "Small Hands," off of his debut album Dear. The album was recently re-released by Henson's own record company after his song "You Don't Know How Lucky You Are," from the same album, was played on BBC Radio 1 to critical acclaim. It was probably tumblr where you found it. You put in your headphones, trying not to let the teacher notice, and you see the felt and papier-mâché animals on the tiny phone screen in your lap, and hear the steady, gentle guitar. You remember the lump that formed in your throat when you heard Henson's fragile voice in the first chorus. You remember trying to stifle your tears by the end of the song. You remember buying the album on iTunes as soon as you got home.
That's how I was introduced to Keaton Henson's music, and I've been a fan ever since. I've gone through a lot, and Henson's music really speaks to a very sad, very traumatized part of me. Even being in grade 12, having zero romantic relationship experience,