Friday, 18 July 2014


See... misery and woe.

Hear... cries of pain.

Feel... madness descending.

When you encounter... The Triad of Despair!

Thursday, 10 July 2014


The seemingly mountainous stacks of crisp paper forms towered around him.  Intended to be completed in triplicate, stamped, sorted and filed, a task that filled him with bilious dread.  Whilst others in the staff seemed oblivious to the fact that these forms had to be completed, he meekly took the eternally unremitting tide of bureaucracy. 

As the others filed out of the firm at the end of the day, he remained at his desk for hours, wading through pools of tedium.  When he felt enough had been achieved, he silently slipped from the building, not even the cleaners noticing him.  He was seemingly non-existent to all within the firm, even those at the lowest rung of existence.   

He simply walked home to make tea and escape a world that paid him no heed whatsoever. 

Tuesday, 8 July 2014


He had always fought.  Never because he was called out or picked upon, but because that was what he did best.  He fought.  Never fighting with aggression, always with an inner calm that was never broken.  Whilst his opponents taunted and cajoled, his gaze remained fixed in the middle distance, far removed from the arena of conflict. 

Though he grew older, and the fur upon his crown started to shine like fresh fallen snow, something inside him changed.  No opponent could defeat him, but the stare that was once calm and tranquil was now bleak and hopeless.  Only he knew that he needed to escape the cycle of violence that held him.  Money was not important to him.  Freedom was. 

Saturday, 5 July 2014


The eldest of the three, Bill didn't see himself as a patriarch.  He distanced himself from his younger siblings, preferring his own company and talking to his shovels.  It wasn't known for sure exactly how old Bill was, but he had been heard muttering, 'a little older than my teeth' whilst  at work in the municipal graveyards of the eastern shire. 

There was an aura of fear around Bill, which was just how he liked it, as fear kept the buggers away from you, and stopped them asking stupid questions.  If they got too close, he would bare his teeth (which were nicer than you thought they'd be), and tell them he truly was death, and their time was upon them.  That usually had the desired effect, and they went off, often with wet knickers. 

Wednesday, 2 July 2014


I wrote some more songs at the weekend, four of the buggers.  One's dead now, I had to put the poor sod out of it's misery, it was suffering unnecessarily... 

So there's three of them, dark broody little monkeys they are too.  You can see them hanging around the tent flaps of the big top, waiting for the show to begin, watching the clowns and stealing peanuts from the elephants.  I say monkeys, but they're more like little goats really... Just imagine  a trio of them tearing around and eating anything they fancy. 

One of them is hanging out in a graveyard digging graves for a pittance; another bare knuckle fighting all comers with no means of escape; the third drinking tea with minute traces of poison in it.  Gruff little kids with the weight of the world on their shoulders and an attitude to match. 

If you're good, I'll let you meet them soon... 

Saturday, 28 June 2014


When I was younger I made mix tapes, I bought loads of music on cassette and was rarely seen without a Walkman of some description.  I started buying on cassette again last year, I love the sound.  I'm sure plenty of you did too, making up lists of your current favourite songs, digging through vinyl and tapes, re-recording them and making the perfect blend.  If like me, you create too, you made insert cards for them too. Proper DIY.

After Thursday's brilliant Birmingham Music Network meeting, I was inspired to re-instill that DIY ethic. The best feedback I got was to get out there and play live, make tapes, drawn videos and create something that is uniquely mine.  I used to paint cards for my mix tapes, but I've stupidly lost of got rid of my tapes and cards.  I'll try and find them and post them if I can.  I made a new painting last night to celebrate my new found joy of creating something by hand. 

I'm going to try and fix my lovely old Coomber tape recorder so I can duplicate cassettes of new songs I'm working on, after I've recorded them to 4 Track.  Copied by hand with painted insert cards.  If anyone is foolish and nostalgic enough to want one, they'll be on Bandcamp eventually, and I'll have them with me at Open Mics and musical gatherings. 

I'm going to write some more songs now... 

Tuesday, 17 June 2014


Thanks for reading, following and supporting.  It means a lot to a middle-aged, mixed up artist who is finally finding their voice.

Last night I played live at The Musician in Leicester at their Acoustic Open Mic.  I did 'Pounce' and 'Big Black Dog', with ukulele, harmonica and growling.  A few fluffed chords and slipped lyrics, but I was really pleased with myself for getting up there and doing it.  My music is weird, but definitely me. The sound in my head of heavy doom/stoner/sludge/blues is very different to what actually comes out.  But that's cool, I like what I make.

I was thinking about writing a rant about attitudes at open mics, jams and all that, and how people can come across really badly when they seem so opinionated, up their own bum and egotistical. But what does that achieve?  It helps me get those thoughts out of my head, sure, but does it actually achieve anything? There were plenty of great musicians at the open mic last night, and it always gets me that there are so many talented folks out there.  I really enjoyed hearing everyone else play. These kind of nights are where so many musicians cut their teeth as performers, learning the craft of being on stage, how to interact with an audience, remember lyrics, work with microphones and sound systems, everything that makes a performance great and special. Last night I learnt how microphones pick up your voice, how to project, and that you must relax on stage. That last part is easier said than done, as being stage can be really nerve-wracking for lots of people.

I am not a professional musician. I love creating music, release my stuff on line and write about it here.  I would be very lucky if I ever made a living from my music, though it would be nice.  My business, family and studies mean that I can't dedicate all of my energies to music.  I support music on line, write for zines, push talent I love and share my passion with anyone who'll listen.  Music allows me to release some of the stuff in my head, and is a great form of therapy for me, especially when depression hits.  If other people get it, I'm happy.  I don't really know why validation of what I do is so important to me, as the pleasure of creation is a joy in itself.  I have a problem with wanting to share everything I create, and expect too much from folks once I've released it into the world.  I need to stop doing that, and getting upset and a bit angry when my latest release isn't number one in the charts.

I have been very fortunate since I started putting my music out there a few years back.  I have received great support from amazing musicians such as She Makes War, Matt Stevens, Steve Lawson and Nick J. Townsend.  I have had great reviews on The Sludgelord, and Arturs Vilmanis of Archiv Hate supports everything I create.  I am very lucky.  There are masses of talented folks who will never let their music out of their bedrooms because they have other issues that stop them, but their music helps them cope and survive.  I can get out there occasionally to play my stuff and get a bit of applause, and for that I'm very grateful.  I'm also grateful for you that listen and support what I do.  Thank you.