As a child, when I learned about capital-H History, I pictured it as a kind of basalt cliff: unmovable, unshakeable, a monument I could look up at and wonder how it formed. (I had been reading too many fantasy novels at the time.) But as I grew older I learned more and more about what hadn’t been taught, and then more and more about what had only recently been discovered, or, more fascinating still, rediscovered. I loved the idea that things that had been lost could someday be found and properly appreciated. Things that were buried could be discovered; things once outside time could find their way back to us.  I was thinking about all this some months ago in Reykjavik, after a long afternoon walking under some of those basalt rock faces I’d previously only imagined. I was at a whiskey bar trying to explain the importance of Beverly Glenn-Copeland’s music to a stranger. I said something like,  It’s new age-y, and it’s influenced just about everyone .…