manifesto:

I am of the classic school of song writing. Or at the very least, it is what I aspire to.

I seldom have music out of my head. You can always see me in Brighton singing or gnashing my teeth to a new rhythm. (Approach with caution)

You see I grew up trapped in a bar working, listening to the jukebox, the songs being my solace and escape. My favourites were Denny and the Junior’s ‘At The Hop’, John and Yoko ‘Happy Christmas War is Over’ and Buddy Holly’s ‘Heartbeat’ (before the TV show turned it to vomit).

I remember 8 track cartridge tapes of ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’ and T-Rex, Beach Boys. Both my father and stepfather had vast record collections of albums by Elton John, Led Zeppelin, The Police, Genesis, Beatles, Motown, The Stones, Issac Hayes, Deep Purple, up to U2, Kate Bush, Grace Jones, and the list goes on. The thing I remember was, there was never silence, music was always on.

One fateful day my Uncle Barry introduced me to Mike Oldfield. I was eleven.

Mike Oldfield’s was a weird one. The first three albums really got me. I sat through an entire maths exam humming Hergest Ridge in head from start to finish. The endless melodies and the Celtic folkiness formed the soundtrack to my teenage years, along with the Beatles, Bob Dylan, Simon and Garfunkel and The Stones.

This music saved me from the atomic threat, growing up looking odd, and the hideousness of a broken home.

Music to me is a life-magic. It travels on the air and lifts people with little side-effect.
Milan Kundera wrote that form equals beauty therefore making it easier to commit to memory.

Influenced by Lennon and McCartney I vowed to only write melodic songs that didn’t wear out: - attention-grabbing intros and outros, hooky choruses, meaty verses and original arrangements.

They didn’t use tape recorders…if you remembered the song the next day that was it, a good one. I have a shocking memory (or perhaps I want to remember everything!), that’s why I have faith in my songs standing the test of time.

The other rule they had was making the beat without formula (as opposed to then Diana Ross). Now I guess it’s the avoidance of bland sequencing or session cheese.

This is bizarre for me because I love Led Zep and James Brown, Prince…and Michael Jackson. In this country we never really did anything with funk beats except sample them or label them baggy.

I also aspire to write poetry into the lyricism, having subsequently been inspired by Lou Reed, Leonard Cohen, Paul Simon, Joni Mitchell and Laurie Anderson. But lyrics must be mellifluous.

So this is my manifesto, or has been so far, having written over 400 songs and performed in five bands.

A friend recently pulled me up on the truth of taste, and asked me how I could possibly judge. I judge on what’s been before and a game I call ‘The Song Game’.

You may have played it yourself. It’s where the melody transcends the style or even the context of the song with someone humming it in your house. Then five minutes later you’re humming it. That’s what my songs do, that’s how I know. Its not rocket science to me.