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.