Since my last myspace confession I have had many adventures, mainly in the fields of Norfolk and motherhood...less musical adventuring but it's all just ripening and waiting for the right moment to burst into flower once more.Background: childhood suffused in Sufi singing, Dad's 70s band nostalgia (The Action, Mighty Baby and The Habibiyya for all you vinyl geeks), experimenting with my half-brother's granny's pint-sized gitar (pictured on the wallpaper of this page) sitting on the stairs to my windowless attic bedroom, breaking new windows through in a place some different sun shines.Been playing guitar ever since primary school; my first musical memory was walking into a guitar class in year 6, hearing them playing 'We all live in a Yellow Submarine' and walking out in disgust at the dull simplicity of it! Hadn't they heard of bossa nova, fer chrissakes?? Started writing songs around age 14, random navel-gazing numbers mostly composed of words and phrases plucked from an ancient copy of Roget's Thesaurus (later discovered Bowie did a similar thing – I was so ahead of my time).Fell in love with Braziliana in Sixth Form when my best friend (thankyou, La Tigresse) gave me an Astrud Gilberto CD for my birthday. Jazz was already on my charity shop record player spinning me into its warm embrace, Rickie Lee Jones on my mama's egg-speckled tape player in the kitchen, Crosby Stills Nash and Young in the office booming out of padre's stereo, John Lee Hooker in the car, Gilbert and Sullivan and Sergeant Pepper on paper, De La Soul on older bro's ghetto blaster.Now music is a heady orchid I stick my nose into whenever I get the chance, to beautify my earspace, to clear my head, to make friends on boats in the Norfolk twilight smile. No chance of making it big, that fantasy ebbed away long ago, but a desire to plant this rare flower's seed in other people's gardens and let it grow wild.If this metaphyisical ramble ain;t enough, buy my CD for a fiver plus whatever postage will get it to you. Not that I'm into material success, or anything.Love, and love, M
