This month started with a stint in Ireland. First a few more days in the studio with David Holmes; we really seem to have found a rhythm now, and are able to turn out a new tune on a fairly regular basis. He also took me to see the opening night of a play about ’the troubles’, in the heart of West Belfast. In attendance was Gerry Adams, who had a disturbingly pop–starish allure of some kind. I kept wanting to go up to him and discuss his 80s period and ask him why his lip–synching was always so unconvincing. Strangely enough the lead actor in the play, a friend of David’s, used to do Gerry’s voice for the BBC back then! After that, I went to Dublin for a gig with Iarla O’Lionaird. There was the usual slightly tense atmosphere as the traditionalists in the audience struggled to come to terms with the fact that I had a computer onstage, but that made it all the more exciting. Unfortunately the sound guy kept screwing up the monitors, which looked to the audience like it was my fault (”serves him right for having all those machines…”) and I kept wanting to stand up and scream “I’m innocent, I swear! This stuff all works fine!”

Next was a fantastic 4 day session with Bryan Ferry, recording tracks for an album that I’m not sure I’m allowed to describe in detail, so I won’t. Suffice to say it was done in a splendidly traditional way, with a roomful of musicians actually playing together, live, learning songs on the hop and nailing them within one or two takes. Bryan was demanding, restless, funny, inspiring, driven and altogether rather thrilling to work with. As usual in the studio I ended up drinking far too much coffee (which usually I don’t touch) and thus got virtually no sleep for the whole 4 days. Luckily something good seems to happen to my playing when I’m in such a hazy state and instead of getting uptight I can get to the heart of the music better. Unfortunately I look like hell and everyone is worried about me.

Straight after the luxury of basking in rock–legend–associate status I went on the road for an extensive 3–date solo tour of the UK. I was joined by my good friend Holger Theunert, a genius artist who did the cover of Scene Memory. Even thought the gigs were tiny I really enjoyed playing on my own after so long as a sideman and made a vow to do it more often. It takes a lot for a roomful of people to sit quietly through 45 minutes of instrumental music, and it was encouraging that everyone did (except in Newport).

When I got home from that I realised that I hadn’t had a single day off in 3 months! So since then I’ve been taking it easy, getting ready for another burst of activity this week. But there was time for a few gigs – Ed Harcourt in Belfast, in the rain, with no crew, a band that had never played together before and a clutch of the finest songs available to humanity; and Ronan, one in the middle of a lake which meant he couldn’t do his usual ’go out and shake the hands of the front row during the guitar solo’ move, so he went round and shook the band’s hands instead which I thought was quite witty. When he came to me I pretended to faint with excitement. I also tinkered in the studio, most successfully with a really brilliant artist called Tina Grace who has collaborated a lot with Nitin Sawhney and is now doing her own stuff. And lastly had a very exciting/scary meeting with a major label about my next album which features guest singers. The plot thickens.

The Roxy tour was a splendid experience. Musically it was so rewarding to play those songs, and that’s as much as I ever hope for. There were times too when Bryan would do something on stage which made it absolutely clear how he came to be a huge star. It’s quite moving to be part of the show at times like that. In addition, he remained completely fastidious about detail. As I’ve written previously, he is shy neither about telling you what he likes nor what he doesn’t. Moments after complimenting me at a soundcheck about one of the previous night’s solos, he came over looking extremely concerned and said, “Last night… Jealous Guy… something wrong. Too sweet… I tried to look at you with a disgusted expression”, to which I could only say that I was sorry I’d missed it. I discovered that his admirable perfectionism extended to footwear when he gently told me my Campers weren’t quite right, and told me to buy a pair of cowboy boots in Rome – on him.

But it wasn’t all sonic nirvana and free footwear. In Athens my laptop went haywire during soundcheck, and without it I can’t do the show. There were several hours of sweaty panic and horribly expensive phone calls all in vain before, with ten minutes to go, I thought of a way to ’hotwire’ it, bypassing the problem area. My repair cds were FedExed over, but ended up chasing me round Europe for the rest of the tour as my laptop clung on for dear life. Then in Thessaloniki the gig was cancelled due to a freak rainstorm, which at one point nearly ruined Phil Manzanera’s guitar collection. The Greek curse was lifted and we went on to triumphant shows in Eastern Europe (where people seem touchingly grateful that you bothered to stop by) and Italy. One other moment I should mention – at a Holland festival we were on at the same time as the Waterboys. Mike Scott made a solo record that changed my life, and I wrestled with my conscience for about 2 hours before plucking up the stupidity to knock on his dressing room door and doing the whole fan thing with what little dignity I could muster. The next day I had a myspace message from him saying he’d found my website (I hadn’t even told him my surname or anything about myself), downloaded Honeytrap, and would like me to play on his next record! All the more wonderful because the thought that I might end up working with him hadn’t even crossed my mind. I’d just wanted to say thanks.

As soon as the tour ended I went to Belfast to continue work on David Holmes’s new album. This time he had hired a baby grand piano and it became the basis of some new tracks. I really enjoy working with him, circling around ideas and feelings, gradually whittling it down into something very concise. We also put finishing touches to some of the earlier pieces. Then I had a session with Ed Harcourt, re–recording one of his old songs for a film soundtrack. It was strange revisiting a song like that, and poring over old artwork and performances, but in true Ed style we didn’t have long to think about it and ended up using the first take.

Also had a couple of gigs with Ronan. Walking around the site before the concert I was continually mistaken, at a distance, for the great man himself. Sometimes I’d get a cheery “alright, Ronan!” but at others I would see the mad glare of fandom swiftly followed by a rather delicious disappointment (sorry). It’s a look I always relish, especially when people who’ve been waiting outside after a show rush up to your departing vehicle, press their eager faces up to the blacked–out windows and look suddenly almost resentful, at frighteningly close range, when they see not the object of their devotion but a humble minstrel. Not that I experience any schadenfreude, it just gives an insight into how scary it must feel somtimes to be famous and makes me glad I’m not.