Notes from a notebook # 3

It's Burns night tonight. I don't celebrate it much these days, just take time out to read a bit of his work.  And what a lot of it there is. Prolific doesn't cover the breadth of it - and all the more remarkable for the fact that he worked hard and died poor and young. But it takes me hame if I had a hame tae go back tae. I remember singing his songs as a boy in the classroom and it is what turned me onto words, the way words matter. This paen to Nancy who he will kiss then sever their love ' 'But to see her was to love her...' and they, '...lov'd sae kindly,' well it works for me. Happy Burns Night. There are many great versions but this one with Karen Matheson wi' Paul Brady on the Transatlantic Sessions is pretty sublime. Look out too for Jerry Douglas and Ally Bain - written in 1791, imagine. I am about to release Lingerwood  - I took great care on the lyrics before committing them to the record and equally, I hope I have sung from the heart (which seems to be the way of my songwriting these days - here's tae us, wha's like us:

Notes from a notebook #2

In my last post I referred to clearing  up my shelves and desk before preparing the release of my new record, Lingerwood, but I failed. The simple reason is the bloomin' notebooks. Decades worth which chart a life I couldn't seem to recognise. I mean every one is dated and has my handwriting to confirm they belong to me but can I remember writing half of that stuff down? Nope! I can remember writing this one (picture left) though because it became the bridge in a song which you can hear here: Icarus Over the Forth (engineered and produced by Phil Jones for Long Way Home Music). I would be happy to explain the song if I really knew what it was about but the truth is I keep changing my mind. It's a patchwork quilt of a song, made up of its pieces and each of those pieces is a feeling of connectedness to my past, about not being able to leave the past behind because its tattooed onto my skin. But sometimes songs are a bit like that. I am about to release Lingerwood and the album too is a patchwork of my life and ideas, full of quixotic echoes, or maybe that should be chimeras. The Icarus song though is on the Fisherrow album and it's one I love playing live. So here's a live version recorded for Portslade Railway Roots Club during the time of covid - the intro gives away the fact we were recording for the online shows Robb Johnson ran (and he still runs the club on the first Thursday of every month except August) which everyone should come to, if they can.

Notes from a notebook #1

Trying to clear up my shelves and desk to start the new year is a fateful business because I can't bear to throw things away. The never know when you will want/need it mantra is pretty futile most of the time. But notebooks are a must keep for everyone, surely? I opened this one at random and these three lines popped out. I was still living in London at the time (East Dulwich, just off Barry Road and walking distance to Peckham Rye and Dulwich Park). I have no idea what the lines refer to, whether it was the start of a new song that never got written or just a random thought. I am posting them here because in some ways they represent a stepping stone in my life because from there on  in my life changed dramatically. But its nice to reflect on reminders such as these as I plan a next move forward. Watch this space because it will include the release of my new record, Lingerwood. In the meantime, maybe you would like to listen to something on the last record, Fisherrow. 

The first track on the record is available here, called Portobello (engineered and produced by Phil Jones for Long Way Home Music) but I'm also posting a little live version I recorded at home for Portslade Railway Roots during the online Covid gigs we did (and the end of the video is a reminder of our isolation). The link between cutting kite strings in 1988 and this song may not be immediately obvious to many, but as the new year begins I am not forgetting my past, nord how lucky I have been getting here, thus far.