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My album is finished’, she calls out, long after the punters have gone home. The lights shut out. ‘My album is finished’, she whispers to herself, in the dark. It’s been quite a journey. Originally this album was going to be called ‘shades of blue’. I lost my heart (and mind, as is often the case) and I thought I would impress this chap with my music. Make an album for him. No matter that I had known him for all of two days, no matter at all. So I trotted off to the nearest studio, love songs in hand. Once there, I played them, awfully. My observing self was terribly embarrassed for my actual self. I stood up to go, abruptly, ‘sorry, I’m sorry, I’m wasting your time’, I said. ‘Wait’, the producer said. And my life changed. Soon it wasn’t about the chap anymore, lovely as he was. It was about the recording process, which I found to be an intricate world within itself. I’d always loved music. In fact, when I was a child I sang everything, everywhere, all the time. Basically drove my