Learning to Walk Again

The world has turned in the past five or so years since I last recorded. It's now very affordable and quick to record high quality at home, but all work I do from home is now toiled in the shadow of two tiny humans.

My kids are tiny blessings, but I have no idea how any creative can work from home with children. If they're awake, they'll distract you at least five times an hour, each time requiring fifteen minutes for you to get back into the flow. If they're sleeping, you're doing the things you can't while they're awake. Recording vocals therefore fall into the tiniest slip of an overlap on a Venn diagram of parenting where things you have time to do collides with things you have energy to do meaningfully.

Even this has been written on my phone over the course of several hours of snatched moments. I have no idea how anyone who writes long-form copy or any creative output that requires consuming and digesting piles of research can do so with young children.

But somehow we do. Because parenthood doesn't afford luxuries like taking four years off to recover lost sleep and digesting Stanley Kubrick box sets.

The first song we've finished is an ode to a daughter who misses her father who's working overseas on an oil rig. The and story rings true to anyone who's had a parent who travelled for work, from the forces to sales. I can't wait for you to hear it.