If you ask someone if they like music, they look at you strangely. It seems to be a universal given. Like asking someone if they like breathing. It is like breathing. Or air, rather. Flowing without and within. A matrix within which our lives are set. The setting for the tableware of our beings.

Every night is different, a ball of thread that unrolls differently.

I'm just opening the doors. And a lot of this is new to me - thinking about it, and letting go again and again and again, trusting that if I'm meant to continue working as a musician, it'll happen. If I'm not, then pull out the life support.

I tour alone. There's no sound check, no back up. I stay with the hosts I am in a family home and it's really nourishing. I just have to remember after the show not to run out into the living room in my pyjamas. Every day, it's a new relationship being built. It's odd and wonderful.

Though the night seems long, you're tears won't fall forever.

As far as I understand, the Second Coming is already here. It's a consciousness. It is not someone who is going to arrive and land in a clearing in the forest. The Hell that they talk of is going to be people creating their own unhappiness, a Hell on Earth.

I am a musician. I didn't know I would be so when I was young. I do know that I have always heard music in my head that I wasn't hearing somewhere else and I 'needed' this music. And obedient to the laws of nature, I created into this vacuum.