Chapter 2

There wasn't a soul on theAvenue de la Belle Gabrielle when I emerged from the cavernous depths of Studio Deux dazed with fatigue. I shivered as the cool morning air permeated my clothing, seeping into my sleep-deprived form. Christ it was cold! Hard to believe that it was springtime in Paris. I looked up at the sky. Not a cloud there. The first rays of the new day's sun were starting to illuminate the gloom. It looked as if it was going to be another beautiful day.

Zipping up my jacket I screwed a cigarette between my lips, lit it and inhaled deeply savouring the sweet corrosive poison that billowed into my lungs. Closing my eyes I jetted short sharp spurts of smoke from my nostrils as I exhaled, a contented grin etched on my lips. Three vocal and rhythm guitar tracks recorded, with only lead and overdubs left to do. They wouldn't take much longer than a week to get done. I had over three-quarters of the album recorded and despite the fact that I hadn't slept properly in the month since I'd arrived in elegant sunny Paris from dreary, sleet soaked Sheffield I was feeling pretty damn fine. Picking up my guitar I sauntered into the fresh Parisian morning feeling a wave of giddy exhilaration wash over me. The thud of my boots on the pavement and the incessant chirping of the birds in the trees overhead were the only sounds to be heard as I strolled through the Bois de Boulogne. I smoked contentedly and as I walked toward the Metro I saw the Champs Elysees framed by the rising sun and grinned. Life just didn't get much better than this.

When I was seated on the Metro I slumped into my seat, stared out the window and thought about events after the gig in Grange Villa.

The meeting in London had gone without a hitch. PJ had found out quite a bit about the record label that he hadn't let on during our phone conversation. They were a decent sized Jazz/Blues/Folk label based in the centre of Paris. The head of Cypres Records, Sylvain Dutronc was a thin be speckled man with a ponytail and an absolute music fanatic. In his early forties Dutronc had grown up around music, his uncle being the legendary French troubadour Jacques Dutronc. Sylvain it turned out was a huge fan of American blues music, particularly Blues from the Mississippi Delta and had been so impressed with my performance of 'The Mill' when he'd seen me in London that he'd decided to sign me. It was a fairly straightforward arrangement; a two album deal with an option for another two. The budget was quite reasonable and the record label even sprang for the rental of a small apartment for me in Pigalle slap bang in the middle of the Moulin Rouge. Nothing fancy really just a small one bedroom place. My neighbours consisted mainly of young working class families, prostitutes and three Australian travellers who had decamped to Paris to work. It was not exactly the quietist place to live but the upside of this was that when I wanted to play the guitar late at night there were no complaints from my neighbours who were otherwise engaged in other nocturnal activities. Sitting there playing the guitar with a bottle of wine beside me looking out at the crimson sky as the sun sank over the city, listening to the hustle and bustle of Paris at night is something I will never forget.

The days when not recording were spent traversing Paris absorbing the history and culture of the place. However when the weather was good, and lately that had been with much more frequency, I'd take my lap-steel guitar up to Montmartre and busk close to the Sacre Coeur which afforded me not only a spectacular view of Paris but also a prime market for tourist cash. I had done it purely out of fiscal necessity. I even managed to sell some of my CDs too which meant that my financial situation was much improved. It was helped even more when after recording one day Sylvain had taken me aside and asked me to do a favour for a friend of his who owned a new Blues club called, very appropriately, Bottleneck (gotta' love that title!). It meant playing a couple of gigs at the weekend and was obviously a great way to promote my forthcoming album. There were several acts on Cypres who would be playing as well as myself so I guess Sylvain got to use it as a showcase for his labels signings.

As the train pulled in to Pigalle station I hauled my jaded form up from the seat and pretty much sleepwalked to my apartment.