If I Should Wander feels less like an album and more like a diary to me. I couldn’t be more
honest or more open to my own thoughts and feelings at the time I wrote these songs. There
was no hiding, no skirting around the subjects. For the very first time they came flowing out -
one after the other, and in the order they appear on the finished album. The songs also took
form in a radically different style than that of anything I had written previously. All of the songs
for the album were completed within two months.
After that I waited. Whilst I never lost faith in the music, (it felt far too personal for that), I
absolutely lost faith in my abilities and direction. This was such a far cry from the music I make
my living playing. Why would anyone following my work in that arena want this? It took a very
long time to understand a vital truth. It wasn’t written for them. This is a purely selfish
endeavor. Meant only for me and those I hold close. Somehow, (and even typing this sounds
strange) once I accepted this, the idea of sending this music out into the big bad world didn’t
seem quite as frightening a prospect. “Folks don’t like it? That’s OK. It’s not for them. This one
is for you.” There is a little hope of mine that maybe someone, somewhere may see a little of
themselves in one of these songs and perhaps not feel so alone.
In keeping with the way these songs were written, and what they were written about, I decided
to record these at home, on my own in my little music room in the flat I live in. Close, personal,
intimate. More like a confessional than a recording. No frills, no trickery and just one
microphone.
I have owned the instrument I used to write and record this album (a National Triolian resonator
built in 1932 for those who may be interested) for 15 years, and have played it onstage all over
the world, always in the Delta-Blues style this guitar is synonymous with. However, as soon as
this style emerged from it, I felt like I finally had discovered what this instrument was truly for.