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That was my deadline to become a famous musician.As you’ll probably have realised, it didn’t happen so I went to do something more productive (like bum around the world reading tarot cards and playing guitar). The remnants of my dreams of fame, riches and jacuzzis full of nubile groupies were dusty cassettes that I digitised and posted here. So I was delighted to find this mail in my inbox this morning:
I am not usually the person to send unrequested mail to strangers. Anyways, i stumbled upon your blog whilst browsing for the Stiff Lil Fingers and the IRA, and i just wanted to express…uh…say that that one song of yours is very niceee and that i had it playing up and down in my media player, y’know the one with the piano and that certain tin pan alley feel (song, that is, not media player). So, and that is my point, even if you and your band will, as i figure, never ever ever even get…uh, well you know what i mean. It was worthwhile for that song, very nice, very good.
OK, so it’s not fame .. but it’s lovely that someone I don’t know took the trouble to write! Bill Wilson, who taught me to busk, once said that everyone had a number one record in them, and I always thought that Killing Time was mine because it’s not miserable, and it took about 15 minutes to write, whereas most of my songs took years to gestate. Wish I’d mixed the damn solo better. So, if you’re reading, Britney …