My folks brought us up in a little council flat in Brighton. Sure, they have their rough side, but that grounds you - and toughens you up just enough - and being I was a sensitive kid it was good for me, as it teaches you how to deal with the knocks better later in life. It also had a strong sense of community; a certain kind of belonging.

Also in that little flat was a huge amount of love, a huge amount of eccentricity, quite a bit of madness and just oodles of music. My parents were outlaws in their own way; free thinkers and still are - so the walls echoed with the sounds from the likes of Bob Dylan, Scott Walker, Elvis, The Stones, The Beatles, Donovan, John Martyn and Leonard Cohen. There are too many to mention, but I loved those walls. 

Just one of many things that does makes me proud, is that my parents walked the talk to juxtapose those sounds that they played. Mum drew and painted and set up the first peace shop in Brighton with CND in the 80s. She also became friends with Tony Benn; and not through any birth privilege - no aristocracy or such stuff. It was an earned friendship, through their mutual fight for justice and peace.

Dad also painted; bought and sold antiques - and has always had an eye for all things quirky. He knew plenty of Brighton eccentrics just as mum did - and also coached our local football team, which was a royal boon, not to mention hilarious at times. He also took a referee course so he could ref the matches. Let's just say they were colourful times that I appreciate hugely.

Also, above any hardships we encountered - they both loved deeply. They both still do - so I suppose you could say through them and the music - and the plethora of interesting people that ebbed and flowed through our doorway, that's how I learned how to love; but fierce love. Honest love. For love is not all cotton wool, just as war isn't all tanks and bombs - and never should it be.

This though was a time before these days of saturation; when having little to share, little to watch on TV and having to wait for our music to become available in the shops weeks after hearing it on the radio - ironically gave us all lots in common; a sense of something we all shared.

A sense of longing. Then came the appreciation that followed, when at long last we got those things and held them in our hands. Similar to a sense of achievement; maybe from maintaining the patience it needed for so long. But those days were, it seems, aeons apart from these disposable times of late - and not just with things, but with people. When things are so easily attained, and people so readily available, how quickly they can be so easily forgotten - and how deeply sad that is.

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When I was about 5, my mum read me the story of the Little Tin Soldier - and I cried my heart out. It broke me that did. I couldn't believe for one moment they both jumped into the fire at the end; I just didn't realise at the time it was the fire of love. Since then symbology has become a way of life and fairy tales have held more truth for me than this so called reality - with their beautiful dance between shadow and light - but I digress and I do that very well when I get passionate about something - so let's get to the point here:

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 I married the pathway of music after being expelled from school at 15. It's not that I do not believe in schools of some sort; just not a prescribed version of something to suit the few, rather than an honest version that will nurture the many. That doesn't sit comfortably with me and never has. So my guitar replaced my footie boots and even my pencils and paints for a while; being that was my first passion for expressing through art. Then the mirror began to tell me I was John Lennon, Jim Morrison, Elvis or Richie Havens; I was very good at make believe - yet my inner mirror told me I had to find myself - and that took a while. So by the time I was seven I was a cross between Citizen Smith and Monkey Magic; but I was happy with that. Yes my head was in the clouds - but my feet were firmly rooted in the earth as well.

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Since those moments - and after a brief spell in the theatre through my teens, I have done nothing work wise but make music - and have gigged and recorded extensively. It has been my pain, my joy, my teacher and my healer - some days bringing pennies, other days pounds - most days in between; but all days creative in some way - and at all times stinking rich in spirit from the ability to do so. It's the only way I can stay real; living how I feel and doing what I love. To compromise my art would be living a lie for me.

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Since picking up that first left handed string box, and teaching myself to play, I have penned over 300 songs. There are some music appraisals you can read on the homepage - of which I am deeply grateful for. I have also written three books which will be available on the site in time - and have drawings and paintings going back to my first doodles as a child. They shall all feature in time.

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So I invite you to take a listen to my music - the product of the glimpses above - and oh so very much more from the realms of the invisible. Yes, as you may well have gathered - I believe in magic; but only the very truest sort...

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The site will be ever changing and ever growing - so please keep an eye out for new stuff added.

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Safe journey and thank you,

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Dan

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For Danny's books, please visit him here: www.dannysumbler.com 

 

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