Tiny Painted Room

A peek inside a busy brain forever turning things over and trying to find solutions to problems which might not even exist. Written after a conversation with my friend Mike Rawlins, so I dedicate it to him.
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My first home lay on the north edge of town and it crops up frequently in my songs. The title is also a nod further northward towards Scotland where I live now. This is a jazz-infused swirl of images from my childhood and teenage years.
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In my dreams I often go back to the town where I grew up, to taste the sea air and recall the touch of the banister in the hallway of the house I left behind.
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Hinges Torn

The first Glasgow Songwriting Festival took place in Govanhill Baths. I found inspiration in the cubicle doors of the hot baths suite, beautiful in their dilapidated state and silently holding their history.
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The Gate

On a family holiday to St Abbs a few years ago, the ritual of stopping to open a farm gate, holding it to allow the car through, and closing it again, grew in significance by the day.
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