Proletariat Party Song

If we had a dictionary which used sounds instead of sentences to define words, “melancholy” would be best represented by the haunted, heart wrenching croon of songwriter Philip Polk Palmer. His voice carries the deep, somber blues of Jim Morrison, Mark Sandman, and Nick Cave, but it also conveys the broken, deadpan delivery of artists like Hank Williams, Ian Curtis and Rick Shaffer.

Philip was born in Savannah, GA, the youngest of nine children. His father, Ken Palmer, was a professional jazz composer and pianist, considered to be among the best musicians and songwriters to come out of Savannah, and had worked alongside such luminaries as Johnny Mercer, Glenn Miller, Ray McKinley and Jimmy Dorsey. Philip’s mother, Betty, was a professionally trained vocalist who toured with Ken’s orchestra.

Philip wanted nothing to do with jazz, and instead delved into the world of rock and minimalism. After playing in several garage bands, he was invited to play in a local Goth band called Sunday School. He started writing songs, and along the way, explored a variety of artists including Bauhaus, The Beatles, Psychedelic Furs, The Reds, Syd Barrett, James Brown, the The, Lightning Hopkins, X, Television, Donovan, Low, Hank Williams and Morphine, to name just a handful.

After moving to Athens, Philip started recording with his good friend Andy Baker. He landed a job scoring an independent film titled “Distant Tribes” which, though completed, never saw the light of day…it did, however, give a new dimension to Philip’s songwriting – visual imagery with sound.

Philip moved back to Savannah, and formed Vermillion X, a female fronted outfit which released one CD and made an impact on the local scene. A second project, Port City Blues, was an outlet for the many songs which weren’t making their way into Vermillion X. Eventually, Philip turned all of his attention towards Port City Blues, and is now using his full name, Philip Polk Palmer, for recording and stage.

In 2012 Philip coaxed friend and Silber Records owner, Brian John Mitchell, to come stay at his Savannah home for a couple of weeks, and act as engineer for some of the newer ideas he had at the time. Philip's idea was to get Brian to work on all the fussy, technical end of making a record, while he just focused on conjuring music, the way it was done not too long ago. His idea worked better than expected, and he and Brian spent a lot of time playing editors, as a result of the outpouring of creativity. After a few initial bumps, he and Brian found a chemistry, and that really shows in the co-write song, The Call. Brian encouraged Philip to improvise on the already multi layered guitar melodies, and in the end he caught some real magic. After that, the project just flowed. 

After the recordings, a lot of speed bumps and hurdles, both personal and circumstantial, almost grinded that flow to a halt. But perseverance has won out, and now these songs are finally being released, under the title, 'Here in the Deadlights.'

Philip’s music demands more than just casual listening – it pulls you into its world of aural layers and an eerie sense of déjà vu, and refuses to let go. It is, at once, perfectly singular, yet strangely familiar. His writing and his voice are genuine, and genuinely mournful, yet there is hope in there as well, and a timelessness to each piece that beckons the listener to keep coming back.