Folk rock. Sometimes it’s too nostalgic for its own good, AND always it is honest.
It’s an odd thing. I know one or two song writers and have found them among the most cheery of my acquaintances, ready of smile and full of merry quips and so forth. But directly they put pen to paper they never fail to take the dark view.
Bertie Wooster
This is my solo music, enjoyed best with a band of friends. It’s been over a decade since I started releasing my music independently. It started just me and a laptop, and has grown into a live show with a band. No matter how many side projects I get swept up in, this folk rock will always be here, at the very heart of what I do as a songwriter. I can’t imagine ever stopping. (“It’s not a phase, Mum!”) This is me, sharing my life, in all its ever-changingness.
What is folk rock? In the 1960s, folk songwriters took the music industry by storm, armed with little more than acoustic guitars and honest introspection. By the 1970s, these same songwriters had picked up electric guitars and put together full bands, and folk rock was born. We’re talking the likes of Paul Simon and Joni Mitchell, who have been big influences for me. In short, it’s my Dad’s music.
As in all things, I’m drawn to candid portraiture. It’s just that this time, it’s a self-portrait. It’s probably a tad pretentious to call this a life-long autobiographical project. Instead, just think of it as me being the me-est of me’s. Loud, quiet, hopeful, mournful, tongue-in-cheek, deadly serious, and about to say something I probably shouldn’t.
If you’ve EVER experienced grief in the big city, you might like mY new ep.