In a time where nostalgia in media is arguably at an all-time high, it appears a true folk music gem – long lost to time – has begun to re-emerge.

We first learned of the curious (and frankly, troubling) case of Quessly Blu last month on Reddit. One user posed the question, “Who are some musicians that have mysteriously disappeared?” Perusing the comments, we saw redditors making mention of Glenn Miller, Jim Sullivan, and Loverboy bassist, Scott Smith; all instances we had heard of at least once in passing. But one unique name made us stop our scroll, and open up the replies for more.

“Quessly Blu” one commenter writes, “and from the little I can find on her, it seems like she was poised to be a big thing back in the 70’s. Like, she had just gotten signed {to a record deal} apparently, and then poof…gone.” As both music and mystery lovers through and through, this is all it took to inspire a prompt, enthusiastic leap down the Quessly Blu rabbit hole – that is, what little evidence of her existence we could find.

Next stop: YouTube. We typed in her name, and a single search result came up – a video titled, “Quessly Blu’s long lost demo tape – A Ghost In Golden Gate Park (psych/folk rock | late 1970s)” complete with a faded picture of a young, russet-haired woman in a headscarf, her confidently smiling gaze fixed somewhere into the distance. For some reason, beholding the video’s thumbnail, we got the sense we had stumbled across a treasure of sorts; which, turns out, is fairly fitting, considering how this tape came to end up on YouTube. 

With excitement, we clicked ‘play,’ and a dreamy folk song began to spin its web. Her voice – soft as smoke on the verses, powerful as a southern thunderstorm during the choruses  – was simply captivating; it was raw, in-your-face, and undeniably beautiful. And while the musical setting of the tune would be plenty at home on a Jefferson Airplane playlist, there was a sort of vulnerable and personal touch in the lyrics that draws the listener in ever so closer. Conjuring imagery of 60s spy movies and bad acid trips, our verdict on the song was, “Yes, this absolutely could have been a hit back then.” 

So, what exactly happened?

We checked out the video’s description to find an emphatic declaration: “EDIT: the good news: WE HAVE A NAME FOR HER! it’s Quessly Blu. the bad news? apparently she went missing in the late 70s and maybe doesn’t have any other albums recorded. we’ll be looking into it, still!”

Below this was what we assume was the initial video description: “can anyone tell me who this artist is?? someone i follow on tiktok found this tape in an old car and we’ve been trying to figure out who she is 😩” 

So, of course, off to TikTok we set, to the profile of a cheery young man named Brian D. Branwen – a sailing and adventure vlogger/D&D enthusiast who uploaded his discovery of Quessly’s tape in November of 2025. In the video, he can be seen “looting” a rusted out car in the heavily-wooded middle of nowhere, Maine. 

His initial finds are of the ‘entirely expected’ variety; shattered window glass, a lone, decaying raccoon…when suddenly, something far more interesting materializes – the surprisingly well-preserved demo tape of one Quessly Blu. No artist name, no track list, no text; save for the smudged, handwritten pencil lettering spelling out, “A Ghost In Golden Gate Park.” Before the video ends, Brawnwen holds the slightly sun-bleached cover photo up to the camera and asks viewers what they can tell him about this artist. As it turns out, nothing. But, nestled among the many comments expressing intrigue, was one from a man offering to digitize the tape in the interest of uploading any music (granted it’s salvageable) and hopefully getting some answers.

Now that we were up to snuff on the ‘when’ and ‘how’ of this tape’s quiet foray into the internet zeitgeist, we decided to revisit the YouTube upload once more, to see if we could piece together just how the “who” entered the equation. And there it was – a pinned comment from a user named Patricia Statham, claiming she was a Los Angeles pianist that worked with Quessly shortly before her disappearance; and who, by some kismet chance, had found this video with only a face and demo tape title to go by. It turns out, she had been trying to locate Quessly’s material online for years, in the interest of showing her grandchildren some of her favorite things she had played on during her stint as a studio musician during the revered golden age of Laurel Canyon folk. In Statham’s brief back and forth with the uploader, it was revealed that the specific year that Quessly, whom she described as a “truly lovely and talented” artist, had gone missing, was 1978; and, that in lieu of much for the detectives to go by, the case has sat ice cold for decades. 

We’re not so quick to write this one off as a dead-end; we’ve watched enough true crime to believe, someone knows something. Sure – the chances of any case being solved this far down this road may be slim, but not none. In fact, thanks to advances in DNA technology and forensic genealogy, the 1967 murder of 75-year-old Louisa Dunne (UK) was just solved in 2025. Stranger things indeed have happened! Now, it’s worth mentioning, at this point, we have no actual reason to believe anything violent took place. Hell, who’s to say the bright young talent didn’t take one look at the seedy Los Angeleno underbelly and decide that silently absconding was in her best interest? Unfortunately, it’s pretty much all going to be speculation, until further notice.

It was at this point in our search that we realized, we had neglected to comb through more of the comments on that Reddit post, to see what other information we might glean. We clicked back on the tab and saw something promising, if not real informative; some of the folks there were seemingly hatching a plan to get a documentary made. After one of the commenters had brought Quessly’s story to the attention of a grassroots filmmaker friend up in Seattle, they reported back that he was extremely interested in exploring this case, and had every intention to seek out every tidbit of information he possibly could, across every social media platform, to gauge if a proper documentary might be feasible.

We’ve now gone back to that unnamed track on YouTube to listen more times than we can count. Below it is a handful of  commenters inquiring if there are more songs on the tape; urging the uploader to share more, if so. We couldn’t help but chime in to echo these sentiments; we’ve subscribed, and eagerly await more potential music from – and information about – the mysterious young Quessly Blu.