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Artist
Listening to the ghostly and yet often often joyful sounds of Small Feet, it’s hard to believe that the man behind the band, Stockholm based Simon Stålhamrhe, was, as a youngster, a prodigious player of sports. With his delicate, keening voice, and his bewitching, beseeching songs – songs of ecstatic rapture, songs of doleful sorrow, each so graceful and frail that they sound as though they’re held together by spider’s silk – the thought of him as an athlete seems somehow absurd. And yet, whether it was football, tennis, hockey or even ping pong, Stålhamrhe delighted in – as he puts it – “chasing objects around and bending them to my will”. The problem was that, when things became competitive, he struggled to participate. If the odds became too steep, Stålhamrhe buckled under pressure. For many years, this was true too of the music he made. Happy though he was to record the songs that he’d started writing by the time he reached his teens, he discovered that sharing them was simply too intimidating. A six track EP and an album, which he went so far as to master, remained unheard by the world at large, stacked up with hundreds of demos in a closet at his parents’ home. When he started bands with others – occasionally reaching the point where they could perform in public, sometimes even building up a significant buzz in so doing – he’d soon abandon the projects, dissatisfied with his performances, convinced that something better lay ahead, just out of reach. He still seemed con