For every ebullient, rollicking, bombastic Bedlam Six song I write there tends to be born with it a furtive, introspective and slightly malformed twin (which must be immediately shooed away into the nearest attic or coal cellar). The fun tunes are toured, arranged and recorded by my indecently talented bandmates and generally given the freedom to feel the sunshine upon their musical skin. The songs’ neglected shrunken siblings, however, must cope as best they can with restricted glimpses through cage bars.
I do my best for these sad half-creatures, staring semi-blindly through the slimy patina growing over their light-starved eyes. I try to make time for them, to give them affection. I love them as much as their muscular assertive brothers – in fact I love some a lot more, pitiful though they are. I spend awkward tender afternoons with these songs when I’m not on tour with the Bedlams, gently rearranging their thin little wasted limbs, comforting them as best I can.
Most of these songs know not to get their hopes up though. Many can’t even reach the window, let alone see the view.
But now they are taking their first preparatory steps towards moving into a halfway house… AKA my debut solo LP.
Many will die along the way, many will be mocked, many will yearn for their once despised captivity. But it is time these shrunken twisted things saw something of the world.
Today I begin the recording process, ably marshaled by my friend Biff Roxby, the producer of this album.
And the name of the release?
“Gentle Songs Of Ceaseless Horror”
Wish us luck.