I am on a plane to Australia. Probably should be trying to sleep, but being unwilling to medicate myself into inertia with free booze I’m doing this instead. It is the last leg of the Bryan Ferry tour; last week we were in Russia and Eastern Europe (fact: Vilnius in Lithuania is the only town in the world with a statue of Frank Zappa). I contracted some kind of weird muscular flu in my arms and legs, which meant I could hardly manage pull my shoes on let alone play the guitar – which made the gigs a bit of a struggle. It also put a crimp in the sightseeing, so I spent most of the days productively, editing stuff for Brian Eno. He did some jams last year with a group made up of Herbie Hancock, Squarepusher, Jon Hopkins and Steve Jones. The tracks are all over 30 minutes long and, though featuring many moments of demented genius, consist mostly of highly confusing (though terrifyingly proficient) arsing about. My job was to get them down to 6 or 7 minutes each, in order to send back to Brian and Herbie for further development. Instead of trying to make remixes with my stamp on, I wanted to keep the spirit of what was happening in the room – imagining how it would have been if everyone could read each other’s minds (or even just hear each other properly – according to Brian it was difficult on the day). There is a lot of humour in it, I’ve taken out much of the noodling, and I’ve never heard music quite like it before. God knows when or how the project will be finished, but I’m continuing to work on it.

I’ve been with Brian for the last 3 days working on the music for a film. He, Jon and I sat round in his studio improvising, and it was one of the loveliest sessions I have been involved with. I used to improvise with Jon back at school and we seem to have a real affinity. He is an extraordinary player who seems able to conjure actual colours out of his keyboard when he plays. Brian is a constant source of completely unexpected ideas – sometimes beautiful, sometimes violent, sometimes funny. The ‘pieces’ morphed from atmospheres into seemingly fully-realised compositions. We had a loosely enforced ‘3 minute rule’, where instead of meandering on, after 3 minutes something had to change. On the last day Brian tried a different approach, guiding us with chords he had written on a huge board and pointing to different ones in turn, composing as he went along. It was fascinating, moving and as always with Brian, simply great fun.

I recorded with a new artist called Florence (project name: Florence And The Machine). It is like a cross between Amy Winehouse and the White Stripes, in the best possible way. Produced by Steve and Ross who I met playing in Jarvis Cocker’s band, the sessions were a scream, mainly because of the wonderfully eccentric Florence herself. She brought with her a large tom-tom (which she claimed to have been practising for 2 weeks) and used it noisily and systematically to punctuate every line not only of what she sang, but also of what she said, for most of the two days. The recording method was refreshingly old-fashioned, with the 4 of us sitting in a large room and doing everything live. The sound was absolutely brutal. After playing back one of the songs to her manager (which ends with a wall of guitar mayhem), Florence pointed triumphantly at me and said “Can you believe all that noise came out of a nice young man like that?!”

Perhaps the highlight of the month though, and one of the highlights of my career really, was a concert at the Barbican called ‘Plague Songs”. Organised by David Coulter, it was a night of songs inspired by the Biblical plagues performed by a huge cast of artists including Rufus Wainwright, Patrick Wolf, Imogen Heap, King Creosote, Damon Albarn, Sandy Dillon, Roger Eno and The Handsome Family. I was in the house band, which was made up of some truly legendary musicians, many of whom I grew up listening to on my favourite Tom Waits records. A bizarre assortment of instruments littered the stage - musical saw (David is the world’s greatest saw player), alto flute, ondes martinot and crystal bachet among many others. We only had 2 days to get a 2-hour show together, but it was a breeze. The exception being Damon’s piece, which was rather tricky timing-wise. When all attempts at explaining it failed, he turned to me and said “You’re just going to have to follow me like a whore basically”. Too many highlights to mention; apparently there might be more concerts on the cards and I do hope so – it was amazing to be involved.

So… back to the 17-hour flight, perhaps a glass of red after all, and Die Hard 4.

I’m in New York, and I’ve woken up too early. It’s a flying visit with Bryan Ferry for a guest spot in a concert of sea shanties, presided over by Hal Wilner (I worked on the album, Rogue’s Gallery, in April last year). I walked into the rehearsal to be confronted with a stage full of legendary session musicians backing up an avant–garde duet between Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson. As seems always to be the case in New York, everyone was incredibly laid back and genuinely welcoming. Anthony (from Anthony and the Johnsons) featured in one of Bryan’s tunes with violin, trombone and pots and pans abounding. Everything was so quiet and intense onstage, completely and blessedly, refreshingly different to the maelstrom we’d got used to on the tour! Bryan works so well in that stripped down environment and he really enjoyed it. Afterwards I bumped into Michael Stipe who didn’t remember inviting me to feel his heat patch in 2004. I was quite offended.

Bryan’s tour ended in much the style to which we had become accustomed. There was a rambunctious final show in Newcastle so we ended on a high, but I think everyone in the band was knackered and looking forward to being at home for a bit. With the exception of a couple of tv shows (including Jools Holland, at which the set was so dark during our number that I played a dreadful clanger that luckily they can edit out) and a trip to Stockholm all has been quiet on the Ferry front which has left me time to catch up on other things.

I finally finished the album with guest singers so it should be out for Autumn. The last track features KT Tunstall. She’d had it for a while, but when I went round to her house to record she said she’d not had time to come up with anything and would have to do it on the spot. She then proceeded to blow my mind by coming up with an absolutely brilliant tune, writing a verse, recording it, then the chorus, then a most un–KT–like spoken word section, then effortlessly stacking up some immaculate 7–part funky harmonies. I was completely staggered. obviously everyone knows she is talented, but to see it all happen up close was seriously impressve. This album has taken 2 years, almost to the day, to complete. Although I’ve released 2 other records in that time, and despite the obvious benefits of having the likes of KT and Brian Eno involved, this is the last time I involve so many other people. Waiting for and relying on others has been quite a nail–biter. But now it’s on with mixes, artwork and consent forms.

It has been a month of expensive purchases. First came a hurdy–gurdy which I had to have specially made. It is truly an instrument of the Gods. I felt like it was time to learn something new and have been trying to get to grips with the thing. Playing melodies on it is fairly straight–forward but combining that with getting a good rhythm out of the wheel thing is like patting your head and rubbing your stomach whilst completely pissed. I also bought a load of new gear for the studio (and spent hours helping my friend solder it together). Any nerves about the wisdom of lavishing so much cash about quickly disappeared during the inaugural session with the marvellous Smoke Fairies. Suddenly, everything sounded ’like a record’. The studio was good in the first place, but now it’s as if all the tools have been sharpened, making engineering ideas much more achievable. It feels equivalent to only having been allowed to play a guitar that was impossible to tune properly, then being given a really good one and hearing all your ideas come into focus.

There was another lovely session for King Creosote, but the highlight of the last few weeks for me has been getting started on the follow–up to Honeytrap. I did a couple of days recording with a percussionist called Martin Barker, who plays all manner of unusual instruments, some of which he makes himself, in a unique and powerful way. Most percussionists who use exotic instruments skirt dangerously and half–heartedly around ’world music’ territory, but not Martin. His contribution has opened up all kinds of new possibilities. In one case what he did was so good that I realised the song was crap by comparison and would have to be completely rethought. It was so cathartic to finally get round to recording these ideas that have been swimming around in my head for months, and now I am just itching to get back into the studio and carry on.

I’m in Charles de Gaulle airport, about to get on a plane to Amsterdam. It’s week 5 of the Bryan Ferry tour and the end is just about in sight. It’s been great, but after this amount of time touring begins to take on a strange hypnotic quality as the days, venues and bottles of wine begin to blend into each other. Playing the set every night has never got boring though – it’s always a challenge and there is a good balance of discipline and freedom. One of the very admirable things about Bryan is that, even in the heat of the moment, he can pinpoint and remember very subtle elements in the music that he wants to change, which get addressed in soundcheck the following day, so every night is a bit different. That’s the discipline bit (along with the fact that a lot of the songs have completely bonkers chord structures, and trying to change guitars between songs in a hurry without falling over). The freedom bit entails trying to keep the improvised solo sections fresh, while remaining true to the emotion and melody of the song. A bit like walking around a statue finding new angles to look at it from. It’s particularly good when you’re able to channel emotions that have built up during the day into the playing; the audience always seems to pick up on that somehow. A definite highlight so far has been the Royal Albert Hall show. There’s just something about the place that, despite being imposing, is indescribably calming and benevolent. Often London shows are particularly fraught but this time everyone was relaxed and on top form. It occurred to me at one point that I couldn’t be sure when (or if) I’d be playing there again, so I’d better enjoy it.

It is a bizarre existence though. You are rendered something of an overgrown child, being cooked for, told exactly where to go and when, spoilt really, then plonked down when it’s all over wondering why you’ve forgotten to pay the bills, and how to cook pasta. One of the great pleasures of the tour has been listening to Andy Newmark and Chris Spedding, two legendary players, talk about their experiences and how they have navigated their way through the twists and turns. Andy was saying one night how he always assumed he’d stop playing drums at some point and do something ’sensible’, and it’s only now in his 50s that he realises he’s probably doing the job for life. Chris nodded and said “I know, disgusting isn’t it”.

I nipped home for a couple of days between gigs to work on the new King Creosote album, which is being produced by my old schoolfriend Jon Hopkins. This entailed both laptop guitar sounds and dusting off my bouzouki, mandolin, and a knackered 12 string that I bought off a busker years ago. The music is absolutely beautiful. Working with Jon is always an interesting experience. He is both an exceptionally expressive classical pianist and a devious programmer, so the guitar parts we work on are painstakingly worked out – one minute we’re gabbing away about music theory and the next considering how loud a certain note should be played in context to deliver the right feeling. Pretentious but effective. I also signed my record deal with Mercury. As I sat in a small glass office committing to all this I wished I’d hired a trumpet player to do a fanfare or something – these moments don’t come along too often. I did go and buy some champagne though. And loads of new studio equipment. And a new guitar. A really good management company have said they want to represent me too, so once this tour is over I’m looking forward to pressing on with the next part of the journey.