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When I sent this to Seemingly he said it sounded like a theme for a telly series. And he’s right. And the series is called: “Seamus and Maggie take in the lights on Brighton Promenade.” Exciting series.

I seem to have got the first verse and the last verse and fuck all for the middle. But I like the chords and they tell a story. Plus my stunning keyboard ‘Stadium Guitar’ work shows my lack of Dan’s work much needed.

A room. Some photographs. The last time you’ll be in that house. Gather what you want and leave. It’s her house now.

Written for a proposed video about a Japanese girl and her relationship with her father.

Actually the original melody was the first tune, written as a tune and not a song, for an idea for The Borrowers, should it ever become a full length cartoon. Not that I had any say in it, I just thought it might fit. And of course it demonstrates the ‘Paddy’ inside.

Written for a mile long hip-hop multi-company choreography imagining the events at Soweto, down a stretch of Santa Rosa streets, ending up at the City Hall. It never happened. Sadly This is long so turn it off when the yawns begin.

The title of this? Does it matter? Not really. It could well be Grandad and Me. Whatever you like really. Another French tinged tune. Or Benny Hill at his worst. Bonjour mes amis.

My attempt at writing something for a choir that could evoke the feelings I had at the time. Bad recording but gets heartache feeling right.

I envisaged this as a theme for a detective series starring the fattest French detective ever born and his attempt at catching les Villains Francais. He rests a lot.

I remember getting lost on a snowy night, in a wooded area called The Sheepleas, in West Horsley. I’d had a drink or two, and just standing there looking up into the branches with a sense of wonder. Probably I was wondering how the fuck to get out out the place.

This reminds me of the sound in my head, head lowered over the toilet bowl and saying farewell to the imbibements of the evening.

No idea why this was called the clock, it just was. Yet another potential song I did nothing with. There’s a lot of those knocking around. Lazy bastard.

No credits for me. I just blubbed when I heard this song played in a pub I was working in, by a folk band and a great female singer. I was bar-tending at the time. Just a great, great song. No words in this one just me clunking and banging my way through the chords.

Trying to be Chet Baker here and failing abysmally but…..who’s going to care. Not me young lady.

This is the Footer

To all the talents on show here, other than my own, who made music and my life worth living

This is the End

And in the end, the love you take, is equal to the love you make
This Goes Nowhere