It’s taken me longer, lot longer to get to this post. A few months of whirl, I guess. Started with the first of September.

The tour was planned and mostly booked to kick off on second October and, whist we were still in June, July, August …October seemed a way off. Plenty time to finish recording and mixing the new album, not to mention getting the CD made.

But start September signalled four ferkin’ weeks to get the job done. Frantic might be overstatement, slight. I cut out the tracks that didn’t make it this time, tracked a couple of vocals for a final time, and mixed at home. Not my original plan but the wheel was spinning.

Mixing is quite fun and many will tell you it’s make or break stuff – you choose what stays and what goes, what stands out and what’s hidden, and how big a cave you want to echo around each instrument. Techie stuff.

Mastering on the other hand is a dark art and, like other dark arts, one is still not quite convinced whether it’s more brilliance or more bag’a’bull. Anyhow, it’s definitely the thing to do and I know of no other so fine a mixer as Pete Maher. In fact, I know of no other, but that’s beside the point – a quick glance at the greats and once-greats he’s mastered will suffice.

Whilst Pete was doing his magic, I diddled up the CD cover on a rather out of date Photoshop – I’d toyed with Welcome to Swindon for the debut album title, and had looked at a real sign that stands on the Aldbourne Road coming into town. So I guess that was somewhere there in the recesses, and then, of course …Welcome to Zombieland. Mask up, babies!

Album cover, Welcome to Zombieland, 2020

I got this over to the production plant who got the presses working whilst the masters were being finished – printing the cover takes longer than getting the CD made.

Pete came through with the goods, working late, sometime 9 or 10pm on the deadline day we’d agreed. Straight over to Media Plant – they did a great job for last year’s My Nebraska too – who bunged it over to their factory in the Netherlands. And we were on our way. I think I had the finished product back to my door within 10 days, well within my deadline anyhow.

Next it was time for pre-tour warm-up gig in Swindon. Some venues are gently starting putting on live music, but not many. So finding a place to host wasn’t that easy. I don’t think it was reputation preceding. You can just imagine the levels and issues and contingencies needed to put on a gig in Zombieland.

Delightfully, the wonderful Ashford Road Club came through. They deliberated, discussed and digested. And said yeahhhhh. It’s an old-school members club, just up the road from my gaff, where I’ve been a member and enjoyed the occasional beer and sandwich over the years I’ve lived in town.

There’s a skittles alley – with dart boards running along the side wall – and, neither sport being much in action, a date was agreed. Limited seated-only guests, and everyone had to become a member, but hey, a great little venue. Live from the Skittle Alley ain’t too far from Hollywood Bowl. I guess.

We had a blast. Plenty potion was consumed and no one sung along cos they ain’t allowed. Maybe they mimed. Anyhow. I don’t seem to have any pics from the night, but there’s live footage on my Jol Rose Music Facebook page. If you can hear me above the cackle.

From there it was final checks, insurance and car service, accommodation and gig confirms (still some changes and extras coming in, others going out), till very early in the morning on second October I hit the road in darkness to get the morning ferry, Harwich to the Hook. Welcome to Zombieland.

(Check back soon from thoughts on Zombieland Global and touring in the midst.)

There was a little shop at the boarding school I was sent to where you could get your pens and paper and ink refills and stuff like that. They had a few secondhand books too and, on one visit to stock up on stationary I most likely didn’t need, my eye was caught by an interesting title: Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I bought it – or, rather, my parents did, added to the end of term bill – and put it on the bookshelf to gather dust.

A year or two later – I must have been 18 or 19 and with time on my hands – I pulled that old book off the shelf and started to read. I loved it – philosophy, psychology, madness and bikes. What’s not to love? A couple of the bits in the book I’ve never forgotten. During a mountain hike, a break from the oppressive, pensive road trip, the author talks about the minute changes of view with each step, as leaves, stones and twigs appear, mutate and vanish. I thought that was kinda cool. And I remember long pages about quality.

Front cover of my edition of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
This is how my edition looks

A couple of years ago I bought another copy of the book; I can’t remember if I came across it in a charity shop or ordered it from an online bookseller which I no longer wish to frequent. It was owned by one Dianne Doubtfire, her name inscribed in the flyleaf. Anyway. That copy, too, sat another couple of years or more – squashed on shelves between more mind-improving matter, too seldom disturbed. But, as is the way with books and reading (am I the only one?), these things have their time and their calling.

And so a few days ago I pulled Zen and the Art off the bookshelf and 35 years later started reading it again. The book is as great as ever – probably more so since, with the intervening years, I kinda hope I’ve got a better capacity to understand and relate to what are often quite complex themes. Or maybe I just like to think that, whilst the reality is that my atrophying mind is struggling gleefully to deal with stuff that my 19 year-old brain digested like minestrone as appetiser.

Almost a third of the way through now and, more and more, the relevance to our lives today is becoming clear. Talking about how the scientific method takes us further from truth, he quotes:

In the temple of science are many mansions, and various indeed are they that dwell therein and the motives that have led them there.

Many take to science out of a joyful sense of superior intellectual power; science is their own special sport to which they look for vivid experience and the satisfaction of ambition; many others are to be found in the temple who have offered the products of their brains on this altar for purely utilitarian purposes.

Were an angel of the Lord to drive all the people belonging to these two categories out of the temple, the assemblage would be seriously depleted, but there would still be some men, of both present and past times, left inside…

If the types we have just expelled were the only types there were, the temple would never have come to be, any more than a forest can grow which consists of nothing but creepers … those who have found favour with the angel … are somewhat odd, uncommunicative, solitary fellows, really less like each other, in spite of these common characteristics, than the hosts of the rejected.

What has brought them to the temple … no single answer will cover … escape from everyday life with its painful crudity and hopeless dreariness, from the fetters of one’s own ever shifting desires. A finely tempered nature longs to escape from … his noisy, cramped surroundings into the silence of high mountains, where the eye ranges freely through the still, pure air and fondly traces out the restful contours apparently built for eternity.

Albert Einstein 1918

Would Einstein have foreseen the takeover of science by huge, profit-driven corporations and their cronies and jokers? How his odd, solitary fellows would be marginalised and packed away in trunks whilst those more easily bought, directed, promoted and lauded.

It remains somewhat remarkable to me that, even with so much evidence ready and waiting, most of us are blind to it. Hidden in plain-sight perhaps, but truth is obscured or hidden or distorted, a daily sacrifice on the alter of profit. (Well – profit and power, but those two are cosy bedfellows in any case.)

So researchers are paid to come up with the answers that business wants and to hide those that might hinder sales. And policy-makers and watchdogs are schmoozed and financed and bamboozled into compliance. And mass manufacture of vaccines goes ahead on the back of big, juicy contracts even though they’ve not been tested. And woe betide the scientist or analyst who breaks from the all-pervading narrative – you don’t have to look far or particularly deeply to see censorship and exclusion in action, both in scientific debate as well as the public conversation.

Yes folks, it does take an enquiring mind – plus time and energy – PLUS the readiness to accept that official and mainstream might be peddling BS as ‘facts’, and manipulation as analysis. (A not-too-distant conversation with someone I know demonstrated it clearly – a suggestion that our beloved BBC might present falsehoods and fail to challenge homegrown propaganda met with fury. How the hell could I suggest such a thing?!)

So, dear reader, we are where we are. These things around me, in the books I read, often show up in my songs, so you can expect oblique references and the occasional call to arms! In fact, the latest song is called Wake Up (though it might change to What Next?) and you can hear a very early version at 36 minutes into last night’s Facebook live broadcast. (Please do ‘like’ my FB page too. Thanks.)

And if you’ve got this far, and not quite sure what I’m on about but wanting to know more, you could do worse that reading a bit from the Off-Guardian website, definitely follow the wonderful Craig Murray, and I often enjoy an occasional broadcast from the UK Column (although I do take some of their views with quite a pinch of salt!).

Thanks for reading. Cheers.

i joined the americana music association uk a couple of months ago. love ’em, a very pro-active organisation that puts on shows in the good times, and is rocking the online season with seminars and more whilst face coverings are all the vogue.

being a big fan of the likes of steve earle, dylan, springsteen, well i guess i definitely thought i’m playing americana. so that’s gotta be my home association amauk. there been plenty written and a bunch of videos too with people musing about the definition of americana – lots of the stuff that comes under that category is really a lot more country than what i do, i’d say.

and that all reminds me bit of some documentary i saw years ago, country singers talking about what defined that genre. none of it leads anywhere or is remotely useful i’m afraid, but it’s the fun in the singing i suppose.

It’s late and I’m tired but it’s been a buzz staying up late and whipping the website into shape. There are easier ways, probably cheaper ways, but we’re getting there. Feedback welcome. (I still haven’t tested the comments feature, so hey …leave a comment!)

Now I gotta get the social channels (did you see the three little links at the bottom of every page?) into shape, get some posts on Instagram and a new Facebook page sorted (both required since that lovely corporate monstrosity deleted my account for reasons unknown; I guess I’m just bad).

And it’s on with the recording for forthcoming and still untitled album. Wonderful fiddle player Rachael Birkin was round laying down some tracks , always a joy to hear the harmonies burst through.

Early night I reckon. Blog on.

finally. a blog of my own. even the website isn’t ready. so if you read this at all, it will be way after i wrote it. i’m home recording album #2 – can i call it a follow up to the first one, my nebraska? sure, i can call it what i want. that’s why it’s my blog.

doing home recording has good bits and bad bits. good bits are it’s cheaper than going into a studio, i don’t have to wait for an engineer to set up the mics or re-boot the computer, have a fag or call a girlfriend. i can stop and start and start again at will.

how the sound will compare in the end is a question – i’m sending it down to jon at earthworm (he recorded the first album) to mix anyhow, so hopefully he’ll work a bit of post-production (if that’s the right term) magic, and disguise the mistakes.