>Most of these current posts were written over a month ago, while I was still entrenched, for better or for worse, in city life; the rain, the buzz, the estate agents with £100 haircuts. Right now I’m on a train, zipping through wet green fields towards Manchester, but in real terms, I’m actually somewhere on Mainland Europe, struggling to erect a recalcitrant tent.

This whole exercises has proven the folly of trying to plan too far ahead, or worrying about what might happen. I’d like to think that a scantly-planned low-budget European jaunt will open my eyes and communicate with my soul, maaan – but who knows. I might hate the Euroeality of good bread, great wine and fabulous weather, though that seems like a long shot.

As such, these posts are time capsules, and are from a time when my situation was very different. It’s probably only of real interest to me, but if you can’t indulge in cod-self-psychoanalysis on a blog, where can you?

Take Today’s New Artist – Felix Wickman. Songs like The Stage would suggest a maudlin soul, but perhaps he was merely experiencing a little light glumness on the day he wrote it? It’s certainly a delicate and sweet ‘n’ sad ballad; bleakness is the one note played loudest here. Impressively, even the use of what sounds like a saxophone can’t damage the song’s downright wallowing nature.

If Mauro The Clown is about a real clown, cower with fear if he’s booked for your child’s birthday party. Clowns often have sad face-paint, but from the sounds of it, Mauro’s face would be 90% bright red frown.

Fabulously, Felix Wickman is signed to the brilliantly named Waggle-Daggle Records. Maybe the man is a knock-about laugh-riot after all. Or not. But do listen here and mourn, baby, mourn!