At the age of twelve, Will Varley inherited a guitar. It had belonged to his father and his uncle before that; was adorned with two large cracks and some mysterious doodles which covered the whole body. Glamorous it wasn’t, but armed with this guitar, he sat up all night learning the entire Bob Dylan song book. He had been singing and writing songs since he could speak, but never with a guitar. Later when the sun began to rise, at around six am, the strings gave up, but by then he was well and truly hooked. Struggling through school with undiagnosed dyslexia, Varley dabbled in youthful nonconformity but concluded that making music was a more constructive act of social rebellion than wearing the same t-shirt for two weeks solid. “My songs always address some form of injustice,” he says, “some wrong that hasn’t been righted, or deserved”. He might have started writing music to express his own frustration, but he quickly realised that this was a medium through which he could attract peoples’ attention to issues on a wider scale. Inspired by Bragg and Baez; Dylan and McTell, the young Varley started writing political songs. Aged just fourteen, Varley got hold of a fake ID and played his first ever gig, at the Grey Horse pub in Kingston upon Thames. For the next few years, while practically ignoring school work, Varley could be found at the back of various smokey open mics across London, watching other artists, and learning his craft. 2003 saw him playing regular gigs further afield, and by 2004 he had a six-month residency at Bier Rex in Putney, along with other rising stars, Jamie T and Sam Beer. Melodies that stick, incisive lyrics and phrases that come back to haunt you have always been Will’s stock-in-trade, but they’re never more effective than when dealing with political issues. The last moments of a suicide bomber are delicately-handled in his recent song Wings of Fire, the lyrics’ bitter pill sugared by soaringly lovely vocals. These songs are compelling because they ooze character: Fallen Angel, blunt and belligerent, delivers hard-bitten humour and Watch the Empire Grow is distinctly Dylan-esque. There’s a hint of menace in Varley’s half-whispered words, and a repetitive simplicity that feels combative, a point being pounded home again and again. Will’s opinion is that “politics is more than just what box you tick in the polling station every four years, it’s me and you, what age we die”. He brings stories of war, revolution and transgression to life in a way that hasn’t been attempted for a long time: taking them off the TV screen and putting them back in our hands. After leaving school in 2005, Will took a massive step and moved to Dublin for six months. Armed with just a suitcase and a guitar, for the first time Varley gave his music the time and respect he had longed to give it throughout school. He played constantly, at venues where artists like Damien Rice and Paddy Casey had cut their teeth, including Sin-é, the Voodoo Lounge, the Mezz, and Bewley’s Café where he supported Matt Lunson and Kieron Black. He also made radio appearances on Dublin South FM and Near FM. Dublin had a profound effect on Will, and inspired far more mature, reflective songs than he’d ever created. He has an astounding talent at articulating what it is to be young, with songs like Liffey Street and October Winds. His songs are absolutely his own, while summing up experiences we can all relate to. This knack of making the personal universal, and the universal intensely personal, is highly impressive. A love-song to a fading summer or a recrimination to a failing president: Varley is more than capable of delivering either, with equal conviction and eloquence. Now back in London, a promising future is lined up. An Indie album is planned for Spring, and he’s booked to play the Headcom Festival and Kingston’s Green Fair. He’s also filling his time with regular gigs at The Bedford, Monkey Chews, and the Electro-Acoustic club, as well as a weekly residency at the Cricketers. An experienced and inspired musician and still just eighteen years old, this boy’s career is still rapidly on the rise. He might owe a lot, including his haircut, to the musicians of the last century, but Will Varley is swiftly developing a voice all of his own, and one strong enough to stir a generation. -Imogen Gowar