Wednesday, 30 May 2012
I'm sure that many of you think that the days of a singer-songwriter are balmy and blissful; belly button gazing done whilst sitting half way up (or half way down) a mountain, drinking rose and grasping at the muse; trying to make something rhyme with 'purple'.
It's not all lavender folks; witness this footage of The Treeman; perhaps the angriest folksinger on the block.
I pity his guitar collection; I think that he needs to buy a cat...
Be warned, his prose is... purple.
Btw; thanks to Boo Hewerdine, that oasis of calm, for bringing this to my attention.