From the moment we are born, we begin the long walk home. Elizabeth and Beverly and Glenn-Copeland started down the path together nearly half a century ago, and have been trailing it since, hand in hand and song by song. Together, they’ve made a life sharing their unselfish hearts—ones too large for earthly configuration—through art and community, encouraging us all to take our own dance down the road with elemental love and grace.
Now, as Glenn lives with a version of Dementia known as LATE, their walk has taken on a different weight. Out of this season comes Laughter In Summer, an album the couple made together—realizing, before long, that it was a love letter to one another: a tender ledger of memories, shared devotion, grief and joy. We, as listeners, are privileged to enter the orbit of the Glenn-Copelands’ love. It is a generative force: a spine-builder, a river, a source of nourishment and vital life. Spending any time with Laughter In Summer can rouse us from slumber, reawakening instincts dulled by atomization and nihilism—and all that this love counters.
Laughter In Summer marks a return to the collaborative spirit that first bound Elizabeth and Glenn together all those decades ago. “I think the universe was conspiring to get us together for a long time,” Elizabeth says now. She was nineteen when she first saw him—Toronto, Jarvis Street, in a small restaurant. Onstage stood a figure with an enigmatic presence, dressed in a sweatsuit, playing piano and singing as though for no one but himself. For Elizabeth, nothing existed but the sound of that voice: plum-rich, tender, and assured.