I rarely use pen and paper these days – with a recording device on me at all times, I don’t need to. If I have a spark of inspiration, it goes straight from my head into the phone, is transferred to a desktop computer for later, then quite often completely forgotten about. And that’s exactly what this album is: a collection of forgotten voice memos from the last ten years. Within you’ll hear brief demos for songs that never happened, and infantile humour in silly voices; travelogue entries from a 2013 holiday in Japan, including an attempt at sound collage; daft wee songs I wrote for my children, and a lullaby (also in a silly voice) sung to my daughter; the occasional wee instrumental idea, some whistling and field recordings; a couple of poems, a touch of flash fiction (in the style of Raymond Chandler), and the demo of a song I wish I'd recorded in a proper studio. Some are as raw as they were found, some have been manipulated and embellished for fun, and most of them seem to have been recorded when I was either drunk or had just woken up. In a sense, it’s the most intimate album I could ever make – none of these private moments were meant to be heard by anyone other than me, so it could even be considered a brief glimpse into my working mind. Or it could just be a lot of daft shite a middle-aged steamer found on his phone.
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