I went out disco-dancing to the fabulous “Pig Pen” the other night, a club night run by Gabriel Hardisty-Miller and Ben Connors. Gabriel is on the autism spectrum and is almost completely non-verbal. He chooses the bands and artists using a “Yes/No machine” while Ben browses MySpace, and he has very good taste.

I was especially pleased to see Tim Ten Yen on the bill, the one man pop whirlwind who has just released his debut album of especially catchy melodies and lyrics. He first caught my ears when we played on the same bill at Good Grief, and I was astonished by his songs and skilfully choreographed and executed dance moves.

Seeing him again caused my enthusiasm to bubble over and I couldn’t help but join in with the moves. “Oh my pretty I’m so silly” – put your thumb to your nose and wiggle your fingers. Oh he’s so much fun. I can see him in the future playing to a whole audience of finger wigglers and shoulder shakers. At this gig it was just me, sitting on a stool, although the rest of the audience seemed enthralled.

I button holed him afterwards, starstruck, to ask him what the lyrics to Girl Number One were about, and he managed a suitably deflective answer. I don’t blame him for wanting to keep it a mystery, but I’m eager to find out the meaning behind the song. Any ideas?

Tim Ten Yen – Girl Number One

So I’m trying to complete this album. It’s been two years since I stepped off the wonderfully inspiring Scritti Politti tour and decided to spend 6 months recording an album. Two years has passed and although I’m closer to reaching my goal it still remains 6 months away.

With over 26 songs recorded and another 15 or so demoed, grabbing a select few is proving a difficult task. Deciding when a track is finished is even more difficult. “The Omega Point” for example, was “completed” a year ago, but listening to it now, I could probably re-record the drums, maybe the vocals too. Plus the guitar sound could be better and the bass could be recorded without the fizz which distresses my Jessica so much. So should I rerecord the whole track? Or just admit it’s not perfect.

One of the reasons I need to hurry up is that I fear cataclysm, and the longer I leave it the more chance it has of occurring. I worry that the album in progress, sitting on two external disk drives, could be destroyed in a combination of fire, stupidity or theft. I worry I may rise in the night to disturb burglars, rummaging through my belongings looking for that which is worthless to them but priceless to me. Last night when I should have been sleeping it occurred to me what a wonderfully English thing disturbing a burglar is, as if a polite homeowner is interrupting and even traumatising a master thief. “I’m sorry for disturbing you. Would you like me to turn down my terrified screaming?”