I first saw Liz Martin play back in the folk infused days of the mid 90s, when every pub seemed to have an acoustic jam session and Sydney was awash with the sound of Jeff Buckley. It was clear, even then, that Liz had a certain quality which lifted her above the stylists and try hards. A pure beauty in performance that eschewed the demonstrative and instead, resonated at a higher level. She had the wise soul of a poet. A dyed in the wool Cohenesque stoicism.