Solo 2000-2014

As the fiftieth birthday approaches, you sense that your life is thinning out, and will continue to thin out, until it turns into nothing. And you sometimes say to yourself: that went a bit quick. That went a bit quick. In certain moods, you may want to put it rather more forcefully. As in: OY!! THAT went BIT FUCKING QUICK !!!...Then fifty comes and goes, and fifty-one, and fifty-two. And life thickens out again. Because there is now an enormous and unsuspected presence within your being, like an undiscovered continent. This is the past.
Martin Amis, The Pregnant Widow)

In 2005 I released Hal’s Eggs on the estimable Static Caravan label. This was a series of re-interpretations of traditional folk songs, done in a way that was honest to my styles and influences. After the Wisdom of Harry this was a way to re-centre myself as a solo artist. This also fitted with the life-changing experience of parenthood. Something which – like everything else that happens – is in the songs. That’s the best and most honest way to show the love in that.

In 2005 I released Hal’s Eggs on the estimable Static Caravan label. This was a series of re-interpretations of traditional folk songs, done in a way that was honest to my styles and influences. After the Wisdom of Harry this was a way to re-centre myself as a solo artist. This also fitted with the life-changing experience of parenthood. Something which – like everything else that happens – is in the songs. That’s the best and most honest way to show the love in that.

In 2011 I released Songbox on Second Language. This record came about because of the encouragement of Keiron Phelan and David Sheppard who produced and played on the songs. Their commitment and enthusiasm were essential to making those songs live at a time when I didn’t really see the point. My favoured title for the album was Gold Watch, which about sums it up.

The release of this coincided with a lot of things in my life changing and I had something like a slow realisation – something about how important music was to me and how should try and honour that the best I can. And the Gold Watch was exactly what I didn’t want or need.

Simply put, I joined in. I went on social media, I played wherever anybody would have me. Mystery be damned! I remember playing at a massive family pub in deepest South London for the launch of a friend’s album. I remember singing while small children ran around, and aunts and uncles drank and talked, completely ignoring me, of course. But I had one old friend who watched me intently through the noise playing an old song of mine he’d always wanted to hear live. I realised this is why I needed to be out there, joining in, setting my stall, figuratively knocking on doors, saying, for better or worse: this is me, can I come in?