Given that I started Origin(al) Stories by saying that there are no such things as beginnings, only where we choose to start, I suppose that I was creating a hostage to fortune by declaring 12 months later that my journey had reached its natural endpoint.

In 'Endings and Beginnings', I said my work was done. Having got Northumbria to the starting gate, my job was to step back and let it run its own race, noting in what I thought would be my last public post that I didn't believe in creating content for the content mills just for the sake of it.

It wasn't a sentiment motivated by artistic arsiness. I just wasn't convinced that continuing to post would make Northumbria a better experience for anyone. I was concerned that continuing to do so might, in fact, dilute my experience of creating the album (which was far more positive than you might expect) and your experience of listening to it (which I hope is far more positive than you might anticipate).

With that, I laid my virtual pen down.

I didn't stop writing in my diary and journals - the source of all of Origin(al) Stories posts. I just stopped choosing excerpts and posting them. I felt everything that needed to be said had been.

What I hadn't counted on, of course, was the fact that what we do and say and make and produce has an afterlife. I'd thrown a stone into the pond of the world. It was foolish of me not to expect ripples.

On 3rd July 2020, I logged onto the folkradio.co.uk website to find some new music and found this:

Conchie: Northumbria

Me, in other words.

Alex, FRUK's editor, had taken up Northumbria for review and a member of his staff had done just that. I'll not comment on the review - you can read it above - beyond saying that it says a lot about FRUK's editorial values that they treated a complete unknown (me) with as much care and consideration as they might an established star.

What I will say was that after I got over the initial shock of seeing me staring back at me, it pretty much made my day; my week; and the rest of my month. I suppose if you're an international megastar with management, PR and dedicated content production teams, you might take it for granted that someone will take the time to listen to your work and comment on it.

As someone who has none of these things, and to whom it has never happened before, it's fair to say that it blew my mind.

I've read FRUK for years. Everyone has outlets they engage with, often as a matter of habit at times. FRUK is one of mine. I honestly can't list the amount of great music and musicians they've turned me on to. To suddenly find myself reviewed alongside people whose music has enriched and soundtracked my life is literally the stuff that dreams are made of.

Venturing onto Twitter to say thanks, the amount of support and positivity was great. When I gave props to the many musicians who've inspired me over the years, Martin Simpson took time out to say that 'Altered Tunings' and the way it talked about finding your own voice on your instrument was 'a really good piece of writing' - which is a bit like having Michelangelo compliment you on your brushstrokes. People I've never met before got in touch to say that they were going to check out the album on the strength of FRUK's review ...

Northumbria, as I hoped it would, is developing a life of its own.

A lady in Shropshire (county of Housman's blue-remembered hills ...) got in touch to tell me that she plays the album every evening as she paints in her garden during lockdown. A sculler on the Thames has let me know that they play it through headphones when sculling up to Hambleden Lock every morning while the mist is still on the water. A bluegrasser in the Appalachian Mountains has asked how I play No Sailor Leaves the Sea (DADGAD and flat-picking) and a Folkie in Aberdeen emailed to ask what tunings I was using (weird ones). I’ve had emails saying Love Song to ... The Sense of an Ending captured their own experience of living with a partner with substance problems. Charities in the UK have written to say it's an important work, because it shows the realites 1 in 3 in the UK live with.

None of this was looked for.

I made Northumbria because the music was there and needed to come out.

But that it's happening is incredible.

What I love about this is that all of this has happened without promotion and without constant uploads of new content. People are finding their own way to Northumbria and it’s becoming part of their lives and stories.

I think that’s amazing. What I thought was an end was actually a beginning.

So, I'm picking up the pen again to say thank you.

Thank you.

Luckily, before you fear that I may I explode in a frenzy of luvvie-gush, I also have Andy H to ground me.

Shortly after I saw I'd been reviewed by FRUK, while I was still in shock, my 'phone rang.

Enter Sandman: enter Andy.

'Oi. Is this you?'

I admitted that yes, the review he was reading was me.

'Well, that's unexpected in a good way, isn't it? Great review.'

'Thanks. They been very kind.'

'How much did you have to pay them?'

'I didn't.'

'Really? Well, they've missed a trick there. I imagine their invoice is in the post. Great review. Very positive.'

'Why do I get the feeling there's a but coming?'

There isn't.'

'Promise?'

'Absolutely. How long have you known me?

'Too long.'

'Have I ever lied to you?'

'Constantly.'

'About important stuff?'

'Well ...'

'But if there was a but coming, I'd say: do you know what would have made this review even better?'

'Tell me.'

'Guitar solos.'

'You do know that the whole album was written and recorded on the guitar? That the first three tracks after the introduction are, essentially, instrumentals?'

'Of course I do. I've got it. I've downloaded it. I listen to it on the way to to work. I listen to it when I'm playing Pétanque. On headphones. Just think how much better it would have been if you'd added some proper guitar playing on top of all of that intricate, atmospheric acoustic work.'

'Is intricate, atmospheric acoustic playing not proper guitar playing, then?'

'Did you plug into an amp at any point? Was distortion involved? Did you ever flick it onto the bridge pickup, put your foot on the monitors, throw your head back and dig in?'

'No.'

'Well, there's your answer.'

'I'll bear that in mind for next time.'

'Next time? Mate, there isn't going to be a next time.'

'Why?'

'Isn't it obvious. You've just released a critically-acclaimed debut album. You can't possibly top that. You're done, mate. You've peaked.'

'Critically acclaimed?'

'Well, they didn't say it was sh1t, did they?'

©℗ A. I. Jackson

——-

The Origin(al) Stories Journal was launched to track the writing and recording of the Northumbria album. You can read about the thought processes behind decision here. It has continued as a collection of posts drawn from my personal diaries, project journals, and process notes. Showing how I’ve found a path to doing something, often via experimentation, missteps, false trails and blind alleys, these posts do not offer definitive insights into any of the projects on The Landing Stage. They are just postcards from the ongoing journey.

Have a great day, be a positive force, and tell those you love that you love them.