Continuing from last weeks post, I’m going to showcase another one of my initial tracks I wrote in my early days, the song ‘Delusional Troll’. I don’t usually like to reveal the true meaning of my lyrics as I prefer the listener to decide their own interpretation but I’m going to make an exception this time.

When I finished my GCSE exams in the town I grew up in most of my closest friends (including me) parted ways to different areas of the county. I decided to start my A levels in a town about 30 minutes away from where I lived. Not being the most confident teenager around it took me a few weeks to get my footing and find a group of people I fitted in with.

Dartmouth, the town I grew up in.

Within my new circle of friends only one was interested in making music with me. This particular person was whom I eventually wrote the song about…

Here are the lyrics:

The troll out on the streets
Busking his heart out or so he believes
He hasn’t a soul but I’m starting to see
That delusional troll
Hasn’t a clue what I think
Hasn’t a clue what I think

Under his bridge he thinks he can do anything
Delusional troll
Delusional troll

Love is a word that he’ll throw about
To fill a gap in his songs
I hope you can see that love isn’t seen
By this man called delusional troll

Now, you’re probably thinking that my teenage self was a horrible person. Casting judgment on someone who probably didn’t deserve it… trust me when I say this guy was the epitome of someone you meet in life that at first seemed to be a shining beacon of positivity, only to then sour into their true rotten self once the dust had settled.

I’m not going to go into to detail about what this particular individual did that pissed me off so bad at the time, because who really cares about irrelevant teenage drama that everyone has had to deal with. But hopefully my lyrics are self explanatory and give you a small insight to his character. Growing up in a small town with friends who thankfully provided little drama as a kid, I was definitely dropped into the deep end when I met this delusion troll.

Here is the track:

In other news I have started a Twitch channel. For anyone who doesn’t know, it’s a hugely popular website where people can live stream content such as video games, podcasts and various other hobbies to the internet. If you’re interested in seeing what I get up to in my spare time then feel free to watch along when I’m online.

My nerdy alter ego.

Here is the Twitch stream link:

If you’re signing up to Twitch or already have an account I’d appreciate a follow, doing so will notify you when I’m live.

I’ve also recently uploaded all my songs individually to YouTube, separating the lyrical and instrumental songs into two different playlists. Handy for anyone who needs a choice of background music.

Original Music (Lyric Videos) YouTube Playlist:

Original Instrumental Music YouTube Playlist:


Around the age of twelve my Dad used to take me to the seaside town of Torquay every Saturday to go shopping. It was one of those weekends when I came across two very special music related DVD’s at the now deceased Virgin Megastore that changed my life forever:

Jimi Hendrix & Metallica

“A Film About Jimi Hendrix” documentary and “Metallica: Cunning Stunts” concert film.

To this day I couldn’t tell you what made me purchase these particular DVD’s. I had no real passion for music, Mum had tried to force me into piano lessons a few years before and I hated it. But when I got home and watched these two films they completely and utterly blew my mind. The next thing I did was beg and plead my very supportive parents into buying me a guitar so I could start learning the instrument and begin writing songs like my newfound heroes Jimi Hendrix and Metallica.

Due to the nature of my voice and how my brain works I gradually came to the realisation I could never be a carbon copy of the great musicians I started listening to. Eventually over a period of a few years I started to develop my own style that in hindsight was heavily influenced by the folk music my Dad would listen to in the car.

‘In Praise Of Shadows’ was one of the first tracks I ever wrote. It’s a laid-back, mournful acoustic track with simple lyrics that I’m quite proud of. I have remade the song on many occasions due to getting better at recording and upgrading my gear. I don’t have the first sketch at hand anymore to show you, but my shy teenage signing voice from that time really wasn’t anything to marvel at, trust me. The current version of the song is still faithful to the original.

Take a listen to the track via my Bandcamp link (recommend using headphones):

Self advertisement has never been my forte in life so I will make this nice and short… any support you can offer either by sharing or purchasing the music I release via my Bandcamp page would help me out greatly and is much appreciated. All my tracks are sold individually (£1 each) or in album bundles which you can download either on your computer or the Bandcamp app on your phone or tablet.

I have some new songs in development at the moment and will let you know straight away on this blog when I release them.


‘Pics of an angry sea & friendly clouds’

Hiding away where no one can find you is so much better than living out a pandemic locked away in a no man’s land where everyone thinks they ‘absolutely‘ must scores moral points.

The old blind lady knew that. She’d lived through wars and famine and years of the hatred of people like her, who knew stuff but couldn’t see a thing.

In the supermarket the woman on the checkout who sighed a lot told the old lady that light-bulbs weren’t essential items for blind people in lockdown. She said, “You must know you’re only allowed to buy essentials these days.”

The old lady put it to the woman who sighed a lot, that her Guide Dog could see and that was why she wanted a light-bulb. Request denied, the old lady wandered off home.

On Guy Fawkes night the explosions of fireworks scared the life out of all the dogs, cats and confused bats in the neighborhood. The woman on the checkout who sighed a lot had agreed with all her customers that fireworks were essentials.

Time for some gentle music for sad, sometimes silent, times. ‘A Life’ it’s called. It’s from my ‘Dream Rescuer’ album available for download from BANDCAMP I hope you enjoy;

If you’re interested in my inexpensive PROMO VIDEOS FOR AUTHORS  hit the link here or aim at the one at the top of this blog.

As ever, if any poets out there are interested in having their poems turned into songs then click here to check it out: POETRY TO SONG

If you are looking for all my other music then you’ll find it to download on BANDCAMP or you can stream and/or make a playlist of it on SPOTIFY

If you’re thinking about new t-shirts and similar for yourself, or as Christmas presents, you might be interested in ZOOLON’S MERCHANDISE

Copyright © 2017, Zoolon Audio. All rights reserved. Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.



The old man with a walking stick pointed it at the squirrels in the graveyard. He told the little kid walking with him that the squirrels were vermin. The kid said he liked them and wanted one as a pet. The old man answered, ‘No way’.

Ten years later, the old man with the walking stick now dead and buried, the same kid, now older, taller and on a skateboard, kick-flipping his way through the same graveyard saw a squirrel sat on his dead granddad’s headstone.

A girl with a camera was taking photos of the squirrel sat on the old man’s headstone. The kid, now older, taller and still on his skateboard, circling her, asked why she was taking pics of vermin. She never answered, just looked the kid up and down, then carried on taking shots.

Another ten years later, the world was coming to an end. The kid wasn’t a kid anymore. Now he was grown up and one of the few humans left alive following the apocalyptic asteroid crash. Seriously hungry, he broke into what was left of a farm, saw live chickens in a coop. Better still, he saw there were eggs to nick. That meant he’d not have to strangle the chickens. He didn’t fancy that. What he did do was to break in and start collecting eggs for himself.

Just as he was about to run off with a decent handful of eggs, the girl with the camera he’d met a decade earlier appeared out of nowhere. Like last time, she had a camera. But not like last time, she had a friendly little squirrel sat on her shoulder. ‘Snap’ – she took a photo of the thief. He asked her ‘Why? What’s the point of that?’

‘Squirrels get called vermin because they nick eggs. Who’s the vermin now?’

Time for some music. An curated instrumental from my album called ‘Scandinavian Something’. I hope you enjoy.

As ever, if any poets out there are interested in having your poems turned into songs then click here to check it out: POETRY TO SONG

If you are looking for all my other music then you’ll find it to download on BANDCAMP or you can stream and/or make a playlist of it on SPOTIFY

Copyright © 2018 – Zoolon Audio. All rights reserved. Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.



‘Claudette Colbert still from Cecil B. DeMille’s ‘Cleopatra’ movie 85 years ago’

He was thinking to himself that he’d never written a letter. A proper letter, using a pen and paper. A letter he would write, sign and post. He decided he’d have a go although the absence of pre-emptive text was worrying him. His spelling wasn’t that great. After more thought he came up with the idea of writing a love letter. The only problem being that he didn’t know who to write to as he didn’t know anyone.  Because of that he went for a random ‘too whom it may concern’ type of letter.

After going down to the shops to get hold of a pen (he didn’t own a pen) and paper (the only paper he had at home was toilet paper) he wrote his love letter. The letter didn’t say much. Just his address and a couple of lines that read, “Dear Whoever You Are, I’m looking for a soul mate to love. If you’re interested please get in touch, Yours Sincerely, Джордж” – his dad was Russian.

The only problem was that he had a letterbox phobia so instead of posting the letter in the post-box up the road he went down the seafront. It was handy he lived by the sea. He took with him the letter, an empty bottle and a cork. He was pleased to have thought of this idea because had he posted the letter in an envelope it didn’t have a forwarding address written on it anyway. Making sure the tide was on the way out he put the letter in the bottle then stuffed the cork in, then chucked the bottle in the sea.

Cleopatra also lived by the sea. She was out walking her leopard along the shoreline when she spotted the letter in a bottle. The cork was stuck in the bottle. She tried to pull it out with her teeth. She failed, so she smashed it on the rocks, careful to pick up the pieces. Джордж’s letter made Cleo smile. She decided to reply. The stamps cost her a small fortune as she lived in Egypt and he lived England.

When Джордж received Cleo’s letter he was over the moon. He took a ship all the way to Egypt and met up with her at her grand palace. Джордж was most impressed. That night they had a meal together at a McDonald in Alexandria. They got on well and planned to meet up again the next day, even though Джордж was allergic to big cats. After Джордж had given Cleo a polite kiss and said, ‘Goodnight Cleopatra’ he went back to his hotel and wrote her this song.

Here’s Cleo’s song. I hope you enjoy;

The instrumental album this number is on is available to download via the link below;

Copyright © 2019 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.



‘Tuesday, 11AM: No Sign of Life’

Unless you’re composing to a specific theme, deciding on a title for an instrumental piece isn’t always easy. The title has to reflect the music. I suppose it’s a bit like naming a kid after its been born. When there’s lyrics there is always a way to find a title. Somewhere in the words or often the title is the thing that creates the lyric. Either way you end up with a title.

Take my ‘The Pigeons Are Switzerland’ title for an instrumental. It even became the title track to one of my albums.  Some people have asked where it came from. I thought it a good idea to explain that here on the blog.

It was evening in early spring this year. A hot day believe it or not. I’d just composed and recorded the music. Sat out in the garden I was listening to the track for just about the hundredth time. I was getting nowhere with the title but then I heard a massive commotion from up in the sky. An army of crows where fighting with a seagull militia. I guess the crows were after the seagull’s eggs.

The thing was that sat on the roof of the house about 30 pigeons, cool and calm and not moving an inch, checking out the bundle going on up in the sky. They were just watching and not getting involved. Like an audience watching a play.

That was the moment I thought to myself that the pigeons were neutral just like Switzerland is when it comes to a war. The massive plus was that the pigeons calm weirdness gave me the feeling that this strange instrumental was theirs to keep. Hence the name, ‘The Pigeons Are Switzerland’.

It’s a shame all countries aren’t neutral when it comes to wars.

Here it is. It’s only 2 mins 18 seconds. You can access the whole album, plus all the rest of my work on BANDCAMP  The instrumental, ‘The Pigeons Are Switzerland’ below. I hope you enjoy;

Copyright © 2019 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.



‘Scarecrow’ – Artist Unknown

‘Children’s Story?’

Even though writing, to me, is nearly always about composing lyrics, someone bet me that I couldn’t write a children’s story. Odd. All credit to writers. It’s not easy without a melody to hide behind. Whether this counts as one, I’m not sure. Anyway, I gave it a go. Here it is;

The scarecrow could neither dream, hear, walk, talk, dress himself, play guitar nor enjoy poached eggs, ice-cream, Cornish pasties or hot chocolate. He found it amazing that he could, on a good day, scare certain timid birds and most small children. The small children especially found they suffered from horrible nightmares after bumping into him in his field of corn. He regretted that but couldn’t do much about it.

The farmer had christened him Sir Heebie Jeebie, although no one called him by his name. He hated his name, hence he was pleased that most passers-by just called him ‘That stupid scarecrow’ – at least he thought that’s what they said – except the birds. Birds can’t speak, you see. He could age though. Not so much in years like regular humans do, more that over time he wilted a bit, then a bit more, until he passed away, his skeleton a crucifix of wooden sticks.

Like the rest of his clan, death mainly occurred as a rainy autumn turned into winter’s first storms. There’s not much call for a scarecrow once seeds have grown into green vegetables for small children to devour.

He’d always considered the farmer to be his father but had no idea who his mum might be. Heebie had come to the conclusion that his was a one-parent family.

What he didn’t know was that unlike all the other scarecrows in all the other fields in all the other countries of the world, he, ‘Sir Heebie Jeebie’ had an internal framework made, not of boring stereotypical wooden sticks, but one of plastic rods. As such, and providing his clothes didn’t rot away – clothes being very important for scarecrows for without them they wouldn’t be able to scare certain timid birds and most small children.

Summer was dying, the winds from the Arctic were trying their luck out due south of the ice cap. Heebie’s clothes had started to rot away, and his face was looking less scary by the day. The Grim Scarecrow Reaper would soon be on his case.

It was September 9th. when Miss Money Spider stumbled upon him. In truth, not so much stumbled, more that she bumped into him and knocked him over while on her Trials bike practicing for a tournament. After she had said, ‘Oh dear, oh deary me’ half a dozen times she got overwhelmed with guilt.  She did say ‘sorry’ but a ‘sorry’ wasn’t any good as Heebie had no prospect of hearing her apology.

The thing was, the bike had ripped off all of his clothes. He was now nothing more than a crucifix of plastic rods.

Luckily for Heebie, Miss Money Spider took him home with her, dressed him up in a massive faux fur coat stuffed with straw, replacing his old head with a plastic football with a smiley face painted on and planted him in her front garden forevermore. Heebie had never been so happy. Although the birds, understandably mainly ignored him, the small children loved him. He was good with that and came to the conclusion that maybe plastic could be put to a good use rather than be dumped in the oceans killing all the fish and that Miss Money Spider was his mum.  So what, another one-parent family. He didn’t care.

I haven’t got a Scarecrow Song in my portfolio of songs, although in my song ‘Ballerina Dancing’ I did mention one in the verse;

‘All I know is all I know, And all I know is real, Like a scarecrow on the gallows, It is no big deal’ – but that song doesn’t really fit this. So, leaving the subject matter behind, here’s an example from my new three hours album of Guitar Jams available on BANDCAMP called ‘Volume I Guitar Jam Backing Tracks’ tagged ‘Creativity On Tap’. This track is called ‘Gritty Groove – A Minor’. A backing track is a pillar upon which a song rests. Like any good pillar it should stand alone. I hope you enjoy;

If you like it, maybe you wouldn’t mind hitting the SUBSCRIBE ON YOUTUBE    Adding numbers subscribing to the Channel really help my cause.

Copyright © 2019 words Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.

007 & ME


James Gull, ‘Licence to Poo’ – all over my car on a daily basis

I first went to St Margaret’s Bay, just along the coast from Dover, a few years ago when I was capturing the sounds of the sea for a sound art project. I go over there every so often because it’s not a place that has tons of tourists and I can think there. I made my first visit this year early on Bank Holiday Monday, before the heat got silly hot in the hope it might help cure the dreaded block – writer’s block, I have to stress. It is posh and pretty after all. What I’d never realized is that it is the closest part of England to France. On the pic below you’ll see a White Cliff. The tip of that cliff is the exact closest place to France, just 21 miles from Calais. It’s that close when roaming your phone gets connected to French networks.

st margarets2

After learning that possibly boring but true piece of information I then researched some more. Don’t ask me why. It just happened. Anyway, during WW2 the Brits built a massive fake wooden gun there. Even though it was a useless lump of sh…, sorry, timber, the idea was that the sight of it might put the Germans off flying over the area. The thing was the Germans worked out it was just a lump of wood and, for a joke, dropped a wooden bomb on it. Neat.

St Margaret’s Bay also has had some of the famous posh living there. For example, the next pic. My online guide advises me, ‘The two cottages at the end of the beach were owned by Noel Coward and Ian Fleming, who both enjoyed the sea views and walks in this tranquil area.’ The pic below is of where, Fleming – the James Bond author – lived.

st margarets6

Also, although I haven’t got an actual pic, the guide says, ‘The picturesque location drew several well-known people to build holiday homes at St Margaret’s, including actor Peter Ustinov. His clifftop residence is now owned by actress Miriam Margolyes.’ I’ve heard of Ustinov but I’m not sure who Miriam Margolyes is so I’ll take their word for that one. I’m guessing the clifftop property must be one of those in this next pic.

st margarets4

Enough was enough. It was at this point that the online guide was causing me to glaze over and lose the will to live, so I gave up fact finding and took a shot of a piece of the chalk that The White Cliffs are made of. You’ll note it’s not so white close-up.

st margarets3 (2)

Given that this post is about cliffs and cliffs have edges I thought that my instrumental – with an electronic choir – called ‘On the Edge’ might just work. I hope you enjoy;

Copyright © 2017 – 2019 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.


G1‘Unfeasibly Giant Hands’

I’ve been working on a couple of big – at least to me they’re big – music projects these last couple of months and now, near the end, I find I’m putting so much into it trying to get it finally finished that I can’t write the words I want anymore. I’ve hit a dull patch of blog creativity. The pressure to complete the project got worse with the rising heat these last few days. 30 degrees+. I work from an attic studio and it gets amazingly hot when it’s hot – even blasting cold air via the fan does nothing to cool it down. It got so hot I thought I’d take a walk to the harbour. At least there’s usually a sea breeze there. How wrong I was. The harbour was in still air and was just as hot as the attic, but at least I took a few pics.

Anyhow, the first pic is of the famous White Cliffs of Dover – that’s never had any bluebirds, by the way – taken from the end of the new pier that’s been put up as part of the Western Dock revival.

dover6 (2)

Next a shot – again from the new pier – of the marina. You can get a decent hot chocolate there although they serve it up with a sugar-central square of some kind of rubbery chocolate cake I don’t like. Luckily for them the seagulls do like.

dover9 (2)

The following one shows the, as yet, work in progress on the Western Dock. I’ve seen the pics of what it’s going to look like when it’s finished. It looks really good although I know this project has been mainly funded with a lot of EU money so I’m wondering what will happen if Brexit actually happens. I’m hoping it never happens. It’s already cost me money losing the opportunity to take on some sound design work in France.

dover4 (2)

On the new pier a thing that got me is that there’s a sign that says – amongst other things – ‘NO JUMPING’.  Why would you ‘jump’ on a pier when you can walk, jog or run? Up on the steep White Cliffs, especially near the sheer drop edges, where there should be a sign saying ‘NO JUMPING’ there isn’t one. Odd. Also, I wonder if when the Cockney’s from the  East End of London pay a visit will they take the line, ‘No feeding of birds’ to mean that their wives’ have to starve during their stay here? Odder still.

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I thought some ambient music might fit the serenity of the harbour on a day like this. It’s the title track from my ‘Pigeons Are Switzerland’ album. I hope you enjoy;

Copyright © 2019 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.


flowers4 (2)‘Scotland Abroad’


‘The game is now over, I’m glad that we played

A wounded heart full of sorrow, nothing betrayed

Guilt is love’s shadow yet I’ll never forget

From the corner of my eye your silhouette’

from my song ‘Pain’ aka ‘Love’s Shadow’

True story. I spent a lot of time watching England eventually win the cricket World Cup on Sunday. It was a small family occasion and we were all glued to the TV. The last time we had all been in the same room at the same time watching cricket was in 2005 when England took The Ashes back from Australia by managing to draw the last test at The Oval. My Grandmother watched that one with the rest of us. She was still alive back then. I was still a kid.

Grandmother was mad without realizing she was mad. She’d often do things and say things that others saw as funny or weird and she never understood why. It was watching that final test match she came out with a classic that went like this. “I’m terribly worried about the number of young people cursed with deafness. It’s an epidemic I think but there’s nothing on the news about it. I blame government’s secrecy – mark my word, they’re up to something.” I remember asking her for a bit of clarity. She came back at me saying, “Surely you must have noticed it George. Everywhere I go I see youngsters wearing hearing aids. Hundreds of them.” Getting her drift I pointed out that they weren’t hearing aids and what they actually were, were in-ear headphones for portable devises. ‘I’m sure you’re wrong about that George. I know a hearing aid when I see one.’ There wasn’t much point arguing. She never admitted she was ever wrong about anything. Mentioning it to my dad he reminded me she also insisted that a ‘DVD’ was actually called a ‘VDV’ and that her ‘George Formby Grill’ was actually a ‘George Foreman Grill’ – for the record George Formby was an English comedian and ukulele player from a long time ago.

I still miss her particular brand of madness. She left me feeling punch drunk most times so in her honour here’s my song ‘Punchdrunk’. I hope you like it;

flowers1 (2)‘Flowers for a Mad Grandmother’

If you’re interested you can find the rest of my music portfolio for sale at BANDCAMP 

Copyright © 2019 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.