It’s day three of this two week solo tour and everything starts to gain clarity. It’s been a hectic start to the tour with three shows and around fifteen hours of driving. I’m feeling great emotionally, just tired and its starting to show in my daily routine, where every activity includes a little time for…Read more On Tour Stories
thoughts
On Sparrow Song
This was originally a Facebook post. Copied here for sentiment's sake. It brings me great joy to share some new music. Click hear to listen. ... When one of my primary school students asked me what this song was about (I showed them the live video in class and asked them to identify the…Read more On Sparrow Song
On Creative Process
Today I spend thirty minutes wandering the backyard with a microphone. I've attached three mic leads together to the recording interface in my shed and cables crisscross the lawn in streams, knotting and twirling through the grass we haven't mowed since summer. I'm meant to be putting the finishing touches on my new single. It's…Read more On Creative Process
On Touring New Zealand
I wake on an alpaca farm twenty minutes out of Dunedin. It’s a homestay on the far south of New Zealand’s south island, an odd return to an unexplored part of my family history. Outside, a thin old growth forest grows stunted, pushing up against gravity’s interminable pull. The trees here grow at slant, aiming…Read more On Touring New Zealand
On Mist
I wake to an early morning mist. It’s Melbourne winter, and the mist is within my bedroom, rising from my lungs and dissipating in a cloud across the room. A house that has stood for sixty years lives with its foibles, and these particular foibles are finger-width cracks around the window frames, plywood walls that…Read more On Mist
On Worry
Two nights ago I woke at 2 am. It’s a fairly regular occurrence, and normally I toss and turn for a couple minutes then drift back to sleep. Sometimes I get up and wander the house before returning to bed. Occasionally I dip into my latest book for half an hour until sleep slides through…Read more On Worry
On How To Fill a Life
I see the same small group of elderly Italian men every time I go to the shops. They gather mid-morning at the terrible café in the heart of Northcote plaza and sit, clustered around a wobbly table with laughably small cups of coffee. I’m unsure whether the size of the cup is an attempt to…Read more On How To Fill a Life
