Driving to the studio on Wednesday evening, James mentioned how touched he was when reading the recent posts I’d written about his Pop. I must confess that there has, of late, been a more Dear Diary approach to this blog – more than at any other time, possibly, in its, now, six year history. What started out as a personal platform for me to wax lyrical about the music, the bands and general pop culture that influenced and shaped me as a kid (and the stranglehold it’s had on me ever since) has changed. Matured? Probably not - but these days I’m just as likely to talk about the state of my head or my relationship with friends & family as I am with a current groove I've been pointed in the direction of. Is any of this making sense? Possibly not; but therein lies the rub, it doesn't have to. I maybe a daydreamer, but I also know that this little digital backwater where I reside is the equivalent of a derelict castle on the Isle of Skye. However great, or not, it is, there will only ever be one 53 seater a week that comes to visit it. More or less. Actually, my stats indicate a few more than that, but you know what I mean.
So if you're reading this, and have stuck with me this far, thank you. What started out as nothing more than a vanity project has certainly lasted longer than I ever thought it would. I look forward to writing each of these pieces so much I can't begin to tell you. What it must be like to read them, however, I couldn't possibly say. But as 2016 is only a handful of days away and this blog enters its seventh year, even I can only guess what lies in wait around the next corner.