THE STORY
A celebration of the soul of Belfast itself — its streets, its people, its character and the music that has always been part of the city, across every genre. Different sounds, different generations, but all carrying something unmistakably Belfast.
THE LYRICS
Streetlight flickers on the Ormeau road
Vans pulling in, doors roll closed
On the Black Box back room stage
Keltic Soul in the shadow of Sir vans gaze
Smoke hangs low by the Harp Bar door
Same old faces, seen before
We don’t talk ‘bout where we’ve been
Just count it in and let it begin
Cables running like old veins
Through wooden floors and windowpanes
Ghosts still play in the back of my mind
From a different room, a different time
Back when Jim Armstrong lit the Pound Club stage
Every note had fire and rage
You can still feel it in the walls
When the late-night rhythm calls
Nights of Belfast soul
Still playing in my bones
Low light, lose control
Never really gone
Nights of Belfast soul
Drifting through the cold
Every note we hold
Turns to something more
Rain comes down on the loading out
No one’s in a rush to leave just now
There’s a silence when the last chord fades
Like something holy just got played
Ronnie Greer plays the blues downtown
Through the night as the lights go down
Down on Hill Street, the vibe is low
Duke of York… where the night crowd go
No stage, no name
Just the sound… remains
Nights of Belfast soul
Still playing in my bones
Low light, lose control
Never really gone
Nights of Belfast soul
Drifting through the cold
Every note we hold
Turns to something more
Just a groove in the distance
Just a light on the road
Nothing said… just feeling
Belfast soul
THE STORY
A song born from those late-night sessions when inspiration seems to arrive from nowhere — just me, an idea, and a conversation with myself that slowly turns into a song. Sometimes you go looking for the blues; sometimes, here it comes again.
THE LYRICS
You send a line in the dead of night
I send it back with a different light
Somewhere in the middle we start to see
Something turning into a melody
No stage, no crowd, no neon sign
Just a rhythm running through your mind
Every word finds where it belongs
Before we know it… we got a song
You bring the feel, I shape the frame
We chase the sound but dodge the same
Every pass we pull it tight
Turning something wrong into something right
You hear the groove, I hear the space
We move it round till it finds its place
Bit by bit it comes alive
Like it’s always been there… just waiting to arrive
It’s happening somewhere between the lines
In the space where your heart meets mine
No one sees it, but we both know
How a spark turns into soul
Yeah it’s something in the way we move
Back and forth in the midnight groove
You feel it coming every time
Here it comes… it’s the blues again
It’s happening somewhere between the lines
In the space where your heart meets mine
No one sees it, but we both know
How a spark turns into soul
Yeah it’s something in the way we move
Back and forth in the midnight groove
You feel it coming every time
Here it comes… it’s the blues again
No map for where this road might go
Just a feel that we both follow
You drop a thought, I turn it round
Till it lands just right in the sound
There’s a silence where it all makes sense
In the push and pull of confidence
Not a thing you could explain
But it keeps on coming back again
It’s happening somewhere between the lines
In the space where your heart meets mine
No one sees it, but we both know
How a spark turns into soul
Yeah it’s something in the way we move
Back and forth in the midnight groove
You feel it coming every time
Here it comes… it’s the blues again
Just a sound in motion
Just a quiet design
Something we were building
Between the lines
THE STORY
A song of remembrance for someone who is gone, or perhaps slowly going. It’s about holding onto the moments, the memories and the love that remain — and finding a little light even as someone begins to fade.
THE LYRICS
I walked in through the neon glow
Smoke hanging soft and low
Jukebox playing Sam Cook songs
Then I saw you all alone
Oh tonight, I know
What we’re going through…
We’re dancing in the blue light
Like we used to do…
One more night of holding on
One more slow goodbye…
Two hearts keeping time together
Before the music dies…
You’re smile… has never changed
Time can leave a heart rearranged
Words left unspoken
Left something in me broken
I’m right here… still right here
Though the years have rolled on
Some things never really leave you
Even when they’re gone
Oh tonight, I know
What we’re going through
We’re dancing in the blue light
Like we used to do
One more night of holding on
One more slow goodbye
Two hearts keeping time together
Before the music dies
One more dance
One more song
Some things never really leave you
Even when they’re gone
THE STORY
A song about the dangers of nationalism, division and putting flags before people — with a nod to John Hume and his belief that our common humanity matters more than the things that divide us. After all, you can’t eat a flag.
THE LYRICS
Lyrics Coming Soon
THE STORY
A song about being a young musician invited into the company of older, seasoned jazz players — especially George Mullan — and being welcomed into their world. Those nights meant more to me than I probably realised then, and their influence and friendship still stay with me today.
THE LYRICS
Tuesday night, bass in my hand
Climbing those stairs to the Midnight Lounge
Heart beating time like a nervous man
Trying not to let the whole thing down
Upstairs in the Tavern Bar
City lights on the window pane
I heard them tuning from the doorway
And wondered how they got my name
How did I end up standing here
With players I had listened to
Geordie’s flugel filled the air
And the room began to groove
Bill McHugh counts our cue
Vernon rolled a chord in blue
Mr Bryson picked up his alto
Tuesday nights at the Midnight Lounge
When George played that flugel
His warm notes could fill the room
Bill just let his brushes flutter
Like he knew what was coming soon
Vernon found those velvet changes
Billy Bryson, right on cue
I was hanging on each heartbeat
Learning something fresh and new
No one ever preached a lesson
No one had to tell me why
Every chorus told a story
Every song I learned to fly
Tuesday nights became my classroom
Every tune a page turned through
Those old hands were writing chapters
Tuesday nights at the Midnight Lounge
Now I hear those Tuesday echoes
Every time the band breaks through
Somewhere Geordie’s flugel’s smiling
Still swinging the blues
Time moves on, the years keep turning
Those old guys have slipped away
But every note they left behind them
Still finds a voice somewhere today
Geordie’s old flugel found a new home
Gerry, he plays its game
When that warm old horn starts singing
It’s like he’s standing there again
Music never really leaves us
It just finds another hand
Passing on the songs and stories
Till someone else will understand
Every time we take the stage now
I still hear that Tuesday room
Somewhere Geordie’s smiling softly
Swinging the blues in the Midnight Lounge
THE STORY
A song about me and my mates sharing an old rundown house on Gray’s Hill — a time of music, motorbikes, laughs and very few responsibilities. Looking back on those carefree years before we all had to grow up and life started getting a little more serious.
THE LYRICS
Grays Hill felt like home to the lads.
Each had a room in that old house
Front door upon the street
Motorbikes…Lined up neat
Everybody knew the place
Friday nights same old race
And The Old House at home
Was our Meeting place
Grays Hill those were the days
Young enough to waste away
Life moved on dreams stood still
Part of him. still Living it up on Gray’s Hill
Murph was there, and JT too
KD laughing as Neil came through
Rays Honda Four. shining bright
The Old House. every Friday night
Long hair…Oily jeans
Living life…Inside our dreams
Bike bits on the living room floor
Frame behind the door
Grays Hill those were the days
Young enough to waste away
Life moved on dreams stood still
Part of him. still Living it up on Gray’s Hill
One found love…Then another
Boxes packed…like losing a brother
Bedroom lights…Turning out
That left Neil and Ray with some doubt
Years rolled by far too quick
Nobody saw…the time tik
People left one by one
Growing up it had to come
Now it’s coffee, at the airport gate
Been travelling a lot of late
Telling stories about the thrill
Livin’ it up on Gray’s Hill
J T’’s gone…and K D too
Some old friends. still live on
But that old house
It’s now a shop
Memories he wont swap
Living it up on Gray’s Hill
I’m looking for what I need
A little danger dressed in heat
Streetlight shadows, smoky scenes
Pulling me into reckless dreams
Don’t really need to know your name
Only how you move through the flame
No innocence left to defend
Still we circle back again
Every glance cuts through me slow
Like somewhere I shouldn’t go
‘Cause I’m love crazy
Love crazy
Love crazy
Love crazy for you
You don’t speak but your eyes don’t lie
Burning softly in the midnight light
No disguise in the way you move
Like you’ve got nothing left to lose
Every touch pulls me further in
Sweet confusion underneath my skin
It’s a habit I can’t outrun
Still I follow where you come from
Late night smoke and neon rain
Every road leads back again
‘Cause I’m love crazy
Love crazy
Love crazy
Love crazy for you
THE STORY
This song started with a feeling that, somewhere along the way, we’ve lost a little of the human connection between us. A little kindness, a little laughter, a little time for each other. Everybody Needs More Soul is my simple reminder that sometimes we just need to put a little more heart back into the world.
THE LYRICS
We’ve got more ways to talk
Still don’t say enough
Everybody’s looking somewhere
Missing the good stuff
Building our castles higher
Leaving our hearts out cold
Maybe this world’s been waiting
For a little more soul
Everybody’s running, everybody’s busy
Try to get somewhere fast
Nobody knows the name of their neighbour
Everybody’s living in the past
We measure out the little things
But forget the things that count
And what the world is running on
Is running low on soul
A smile still costs you nothing
A helping hand is free
Sometimes all it takes to change a life
Is a little humanity
Turn down the noise…
Turn up your heart…
Maybe that’s where the healing starts…
Maybe that’s where the music starts…
Everybody needs more soul
Everybody needs more soul
A little more heart, a little more soul
Everybody needs more soul
It’s never been about tomorrow
It’s always been today
Every little kindness that we leave behind
Lights another person’s way
Every conversation matters
Every laugh, every tear
The world gets just a little brighter
When we really hear
Everybody needs more soul
Everybody needs more soul
A little more heart, a little more soul
Everybody needs more soul
Bring a little soul
Bring a little soul
Open up your heart and let it roll
Everybody needs more soul
Everybody needs…
More soul…
Everybody needs…
More soul…
Bring a little more soul…
Bring a little more soul…
Bring a little more soul into the world…
More soul…
More heart…
More hope…
More Celtic soul…
Everybody needs more soul…
THE STORY
After a lifetime spent working on rooftops, you get to see the world from a different angle.
Every roof has a story, every house holds memories, and every working day leaves something behind.
A Roofer’s Lament is a light-hearted but reflective look back at my years in the roofing trade — the people, the places, the changing seasons and the passing of time. There’s a little humour, a little nostalgia and a lot of truth in it.
It’s a working man’s song about a life spent looking down on the world from above.
THE LYRICS
Every rooftop has a different view.
Of the very same old place.
Funny how the world looks different.
Like looking down from space.
I used to love those summer mornings.
When the town was barely awake.
Just the birds around the chimney pots.
And the sunlight on the slate.
Never had much fear of falling.
Never worried about looking down.
There’s a kinda peace up there.
You don’t find on the ground.
And winter had its own ideas
With the rain coming sideways through
There were days I’d curse the weather
Like all old roofers do
Now the ladders feel much longer
And the winters twice as cold
And the things I did without thinking
Take their toll as I grow old
I can still remember running up those ladders in my prime
Now I stop to catch my breath
And pretend I’m taking time
There’s a freedom I’ve been working for
That’s always one more year away
And the numbers on the table
Never say what I need them to say
I’ve spent my life keeping out the rain
From the homes along these streets
Now I wonder how much longer I can stay upon my feet
I know someday I’ll miss the rooftops
And the silence up above
It’s a strange thing growing older
When your work’s the thing you love
And I’d gladly lay my ladders down
Let the younger men take my place
But there’s another bill tomorrow
And another roof to face
Every rooftop has a different view
And the years have come and went
Still climbing, still working That’s the roofer’s lament