Jones is Trevor Jones; principal songwriter with the critically acclaimed duo Miracle Mile, where he works alongside collaborator, arranger and musical partner Marcus Cliffe.
Together they have produced nine albums, the latest of which was 2012’s In Cassidy’s Care, rated ‘Album of the Month’ by HiFi News, with respected journalist Johnny Black noting that Miracle Mile were
“far and away the most unfairly unsung musical wizards ever to emerge from this sceptered isle. Big on memorable tunes wrapped around honest-to-goodness emotionally involving lyrics.”
Trevor Jones has also previously produced three solo albums: Hopeland (2009), Keepers (2010) and To The Bone (2014).
Whether fumbled by a fool
Or fielded by an aching heart
Surely there’s one golden rule
To help the healing start
Those lines never did find a song. Why write them? I try and make universal feelings intimate, but how do you catch someone’s eye when writing about ‘the dear ordinary’? Truth is in the fine lines as much as the broad strokes, but trying to put your anger on the fidelity of a feeling makes fools of us all. I’m drawn to vulnerability, probably because of the recognitions that lie therein. I never was taken by cocky command or flamboyant dexterity; give me a three fingered gypsy guitarist any day. I’m beckoned by an unsteady hand; informed by the uncertain mumblings of a trembling voice.
My Father died early this year. Terry’s last lucid words to me were “Hello Sunshine”. He hadn’t called me that since I was a boy. He then whispered “I’m terrified” before retreating into the foggy sanctuary of sleep. His heart was strong, but his lungs were shot. Terry just ran out of air. I sit here breathless in the early morning half-light, wearing my Dad’s shirt and listening to the voices of my youth. As I take the needle from the record my hands are shaking. I blame the coffee and reach for my guitar. Music is a calming balm. Oddly, for someone so reluctant to sing out loud, it’s the singing that keeps me honest and true. My Dad was a venerable but vulnerable man. There wasn’t much joy in his life, but he did love to sing and he loved sorrowful songs. He breathed them into me. And on the day that I was born he sang ‘Hallelujah’. We are connected by sound. the sound of a time, like the smell of a room, can haunt your memory and… I’m haunted by sound. I too like a sad song. Sad songs make me happy. Happy Blue. TJ
“Masterpieces of subtlety and observation clothed in sumptuous, lush melodies.” R2
“Intellectually as well as emotionally engaging.” Mojo