In the Beginning

It’s the 1970’s. Most primary school age kids are riding around on Chopper bikes or Space Hoppers and playing Kerplunk. Not me. I’m the one playing a recorder on his tod writing down music, making up new tunes. And whilst a whole decade of Punk, Floyd, Glam Rock and Bowie raged around me I was absorbed in the Four Seasons, Beethoven Symphony box sets and everything else that my parent’s “The Joy of Classics” monthly record subscription could supply me with.

It was geek/nerd bliss.

Terrible Teens and Twenties

Things progressed slowly. I graduated to scraping the violin and then moved onto heavy brass and piano. I wrote terrible love songs for girls and fell head over heels with writing music on computers.

The technology blew my mind.

I did music at Uni and also postgrad at Trinity College of Music, London. I came out able to play the Tuba like an Olympian and with a burning, burning passion for writing music. However, I was a classic case all the gear with no idea. Nobody taught me how to actually make any money from music. I tried and tried but with no internet to find out information from and a crippling lack of self confidence I shelved all notions of making music my life in my late 20’s.

It hurt. Man it really hurt. Like a deep black empty hole in my core.

And for nearly 30 years I did something else, I had a wonderful, beautiful family, a successful career in another industry but also a gnawing, nagging, constant aching pain to be writing music. I accumulated three decades of life experience all with the constant companion of listening to music as my solace, my ever true friend.