It's early spring of 1971. Two teenage boys (17) and (18) pose in a suburban garden 30 miles north of London. They're on the threshold of adulthood and don't quite know what to do with it. The one on the left is at college, the one on the right has already been at work for over two years. Having quit his job as a labourer on a pig farm in Essex, he's temporarily out of work. He's turned up at his friend's place with no more than a bag of clothes and an electric guitar. He wan

David Bowie died 10 years ago this Saturday. At the time I was commissioned to write this full page poem. I still perform it live. DAVID BOWIE IN HEDDON STREET In Heddon Street in January The London drizzle falls the same as softly as it did the night, the camera caught in failing light the famous phonebox, currant red with Ziggy Stardust in the frame A tinted showbiz biscuit tin Which drew the viewer in An atmosphere which seemed to speak of basement studios, upstairs flats,

Another extract from my book The Home Recording Handbook published by Dunlin Press earlier this year (links in bio/see Bandcamp). An ideal unwanted Christmas present. HOW ENGLAND GOT ITS ECHO In autumn of 1967 my family relocated to Balham in south-west London. A pop-crazed 14-year-old with my first guitar, I went out one day in search of somewhere selling guitar strings. As I walked down Balham High Road I came to a guitar shop called Watkins Electric Music and wandered in,

I got talking this week to a talented and very bright young songwriter in his mid 20s. He asked me whether or not I thought it was wise that he went into the music business. I told him that it was great, if that was what was calling you. But also warned him that there may be tough times ahead. I mean, I struggled, really struggled at times and suffered mockery, condescension, poverty and insult. Not constantly, but regularly for much of my young life. So here is an honest acc