About this user
My grandfathers were Cornish and Welsh though I knew neither of them very well.
My childhood dream was to live alone on a beach, where my skin would become dark and my hair matted. I would live off the sea and sleep in the sand. . .
I still have the same dream today, only now I would have my guitar. I would live alone, but everyday I would walk from the beach to the fields, sit, and play. I would do this everyday hoping that she would come to listen. And finally one day when I would see her walking towards me I would say,
Today, I will return to the world, never to be alone.
My guitar found its way into my hands, and I started to listen to the music of Joan Baez, Lenard Cohen and Pete Seeger. I started to listen to European Gypsy music, visiting Gypsy and Traveller camps, earning my time by teaching music to the children there.
After being in a punk band I wanted to start again, carve away all the dead wood, leaving only a splinter, creating music tinged in a beautiful melancholy, full of expression and reflection, always leaving you at the height of the low.
Happy in love, unhappy in life.
But the conversations at bus stops, television programmes, magazines and comments on subway walls all chip away at the person Ive tried to become. I feel like a muddy pair of boots left outside the house, not wanting to dirty the floor. At least Im on the right side of the door to make my get away.
I no longer know where I end and my music begins.
