Emilia Dahlin

Emilia Dahlin

 Portland, Maine, USA

Wielding a voice that defies the size of her body and a mesmerizing stage presence, Emilia Dahlin can make even a solo performance feel like a big band. Emilia weaves acoustic roots with vintage jazz undertones seamlessly, spinning musical genres with her guitar and ukelele.


Born on a small farm south of Boston to a musical instrument-collecting father and accordion-playing mother, Emilia was destined for a life of music. She started piano, formally, at the age of five and trained
classically for the next thirteen years. It was Christmas day, 1996, when Emilia decided she wanted to play the guitar. She went up to the attic,
pulled out a warped and worn guitar, that once belonged to her great grandfather, and started to play. She never stopped.

After a brief, post-graduate stint in San Francisco, she moved to Portland, Maine to attend a grad program in documentary photography and supported herself by singing in the streets of the Old Port. Here, she fostered her love of storytelling both visually and audibly. Upon graduation, in the midst of a full fledged love affair with Maine, Emilia settled into the Portland community and started building a career as a full-time singer/songwriter.

Now, wielding a voice that defies the size of her body and strong storytelling sensibilities, Emilia Dahlin has carved out her name as a unique songstress. She weaves mesmerizing tales (complete with Greek myths, robotic messiahs, epic floods, and tax evaders) with raw, rootsy folk and dynamic jazz vocals. Her well-crafted songs sound as if they've been left outside where time and weather have worn cracks for the wind to whip through. Her sky-rocketing energy is delivered with honesty. She's a “self-made original” and the quintessential indie musician, wearing the hat of artist, manager, booking agent, and publicist at once.


*Winner: Great Waters Songwriting Competition
Wolfboro, NH

*Finalist: Mountain Stage NewSong Competition

*Voted: Best Local Female Vocalist
2005, 2006, 2007
Portland, Maine

*Voted: Best Local Singer/Songwriter
Portland, Maine

*Finalist in the Telluride Bluegrass
Festival's Troubadour Competition

*Winner: '07 NEMO Music Makers Songwriting Competition Regional Finals

*Finalist in '05/'06/'07 NEMO Music Makers Songwriting Competition Overall Finals

*Selected for Showcaseat - NXNE '06, '07

*Selected for Showcase - NEMO '06

*Winner of five showcases,
2004-2006, with the National
Association for Campus Activities as an indie artist


No End

Written By: Emilia Dahlin

The wind was breathless and the sun was high
On the fifth of August, 1945.
She pulled at the apron stuck to her thigh
As she squinted up and she searched the sky
With no end in sight.

She thought her beaux was a do-right man
But, as a husband, ruled the house with a heavy hand.
The land around her lay flat and wide,
Scorched, dry grass for miles and miles
With no end in sight.

She said, “I heard of a place called the deep blue sea.
There, I know, relief waits for me.
Ocean winds will dry these eyes,
Let the sea birds cry, while the eelgrass sighs
‘there’s no end in sight’”.

The Lord said he would take her to the Promised Land
But, he too, ruled his house with a heavy hand.
And every day she’d pray, hands clasped to her chest,
Singing “Please, Lord, don’t let me burn with all of the rest,
With no end in sight!”.

Breath held quiet – drop to the floor
The tax collector’s knockin’ on her front door.
Damn the man! Nobody’s home!
She sneaking out the back and she’s runnin’ down the road
With no end in sight.

Four days later, hair filled with sand,
Cool salt water cupped in her hands.
This is all she ever wanted, was just to be free
To sink into the darkness of the deep blue sea
With no end in sight.

Sleep Tight Willy

Written By: Emilia Dahlin

Sigh a breath of solace
Wipe the trouble from your brow
The night is going to cover you
With her shroud.

Dream of little angels
Let them carry you away
Know the sun is never going
To shine down again on this day.

Free yourself from burden,
As you close your heavy eyes.
Let your aching and your suffering
Dissolve into the sky.

Lay your weary head down
In the pillow of your dreams
And know the sweetness of the night
Is going to wash your worries clean.

And it’s a long, long day
When you’re hoping to be whole
But pieces of you are breaking away.
And it’s a long, long day
When all you want to do is run
But something’s making you stay.

Lay your weary head down
in the pillow of your dreams
And know the sweetness of the night
Is going to wash your worries clean.

God Machine

Written By: Emilia Dahlin

Trot trot to Boston
Trot trot to Lynn
You better watch out
Or you're going to fall in
And I swear you won't go out
How you came in. . .

Lynn, Lynn the city of Sin
Don't you fall down to your needs,
Be careful what you sew with your seeds.
Please let me entice you
To consider possibilities
That out-do even all your wildest dreams.

Zinc, iron, copper, wood,
and a plan devised of spirit stood
On a tabletop, waiting to be made.
All laid out with divine intervention,
a miracle, and did I mention that
with it, the whole world will be saved?

Oh, no, no ,no
Whoa, no, no, no,
Oh the God Machine.

It's easy to save your fellow man
with my very simple nine month plan.
Heaven's last and best gift to man's a machine.
From one-seven-zero feet above the ground,
from High Rock came a hopeful sound
of the psysical savior
dancin' around the floor.

And high up on a hillside it shutters and shakes
While the people down below still continue to quake
And Mary rakes her nails across the floor.
Lay your sweet,sweet, sweet hands
upon it.
The spirit moving through is going to
knock off your bonnet.
To make a messiah, girl,
you've got to writhe.

John Murry crowned the King of Heaven with a wagon wheel
and peels of laughter,
shouting for all the world to hear,
"He's come to save your mortal souls
the skeptics and the eyes that roll,
oh won't they be so surprised to
hear?". . .

Oh, no, no ,no
Whoa, no, no, no,
Oh the God Machine.

Daughter of Soil

Written By: Emilia Dahlin

Daughter of soil
Daughter of sand
A child sprung forth from the flesh of the land.
Wind won't break you,
You just bend
Like the trees that sway high over your head

Son of ocean
Son of sea
You breath underwater so comfortably
Waves won't break you
Just roll you aside
The troth, as your cradle,
Rocks as you ride.

Terra firma is the wish of the sea
To stand for a moment in such pure constancy.
Constant movement is the wish of the land
To be undulating with weather and wind at her hand
But they'll never be, never be
more than Land and Sea.

They shape each other without understanding
The forces that alter their form.
How the wind and warmth that rolls from the hills
Make the waves that shape the shore.

Daughter of gravel
Daughter of clay
Your moves, so deliberate, are glacially paced.
But a fire burns, deep in your core
For the wonder of water
and the one you adore.

Loneliness Is. . .

Written By: Emilia Dahlin

Loneliness is my,
Is my muse.
Is my, is my muse lonely too?
I fall to pieces
When you don't come round.

Far beyond the country side,
With childl-like ways you taught me how to see.
Now can't you see you're killing me,
'till words are spilling out of me again?

I recall a time or two
You took my hand and showed me how to see.
But can't you see you're killing me
'till words are spilling out of me again?

From somewhere in the recess of this uninspired skull
You're daring me to dream another song.
Perhaps to be, like me, outside of company
You're unfettered by the sounds
All because. . .

Loneliness is my,
Is my muse.
Is my, is my muse lonely too?
I fall to pieces
When you don't come round.

Rattle Them Bones

Written By: Emilia Dahlin 2009

Wind blew down from the North today
With polar bears on the breeze
Birds hung frozen in the sky
Against a background of twisted, naked trees.

Ice hung 'round everything in sight,
A thousand daggers at dawn,
Shining bright and so lethally
As if forged by the weight of the night.

Rattle them Bones
Rattle them Bones
You've got to blow a little harder
If you want to rattle these bones.

Night came down like a criticism;
Swift and cold.
And cut me right down to size
And I could not believe the scene that laid out
Right before my very eyes

Of a world so frozen and fragile
As if it might break with a touch
As if no Love, no Hope ever lived here
And that life never mattered that much.

As if birds never sang from these branches
and rain never softened the ground
As if sun never warmed all the faces
Of the children all sunburnt and brown

Old Man Winter, I challenge you
To duel of the will
You may try your best to conquor this old, beating heart
But a love like mine can never be killed

For I know that Springtime will vanquish
The spell that you cast over All.
And the world will rise from it's slumber again
And the death from which it befell.


God Machine, June '06

Stealing Glimpses, August '01

Self Entitled, May '04
Airplay - No End
- Sleep Tight Willy
- 6 Acre Lot

Set List

Typical set is 1.25 hours of original music.