There’s a lot to be said for meeting your heroes, and while we occasionally hear associated horror stories, for most of us it’s nearly always a positive experience. And that was certainly the case for Pele and Amsterdam frontman turned acclaimed solo artist Ian Prowse, having had the pleasure of getting to know the genius that is Elvis Costello in recent years, opening for his last three UK tours.
In our last interview, half a dozen years ago (linked here), Ian was somewhat philosophical in the wake of lockdown highs and lows, 2019 LP Here I Lie inspiring a certain Declan McManus to do some Levi Stubbs style reaching out, inviting him to be his main support on a 13-date UK tour… only for that to end three shows early due to the coronavirus epidemic.
However, in a period of universal reflection, this Ellesmere Port born and bred singer-songwriter certainly made the most of trying and (for many) tragic circumstances, his online subsequent weekend lockdown gigs going down a storm while a greatest hits album helped signpost new fans to past product. But I’ll not go back into all that and his band past today, for I came chiefly in praise of his latest Kitchen Disco Records long player, No Names, his 12th, I gather, the follow-up to 2022’s One Hand on the Starry Plough.
And as he put it himself, ‘It’s rock, it’s roll, it’s Celtic soul. For some fans this one will be the best yet – it’s got a bit of everything. Half the songs address the wider world; radical hope, protest songs if you like. The other half map out where my emotional life and memories are at in 2026. Just like Lennon used to.’
Ian, who’s also toured with The Wonder Stuff and the Blow Monkeys, was at home in Liverpool after a live engagement in the Netherlands, gathering himself in light of his latest LP launch and back-to-back dates at the Philharmonic Music Room, his 20th High Summer Show happening.
After a brief chat about his adopted city and its forever thriving scene (he’s also been inducted into the Liverpool Legends Hall of Fame), we got on to the new record, me sounding like some sycophant messaging a national radio presenter, my ‘Love the show, Steve!’ engineered to prompt a mention on air. But I genuinely do rate No Names, which gets better by the listen.
“Oh, lovely! Thanks, Malc!”
And for me, the icing on the cake was seeing his old pal Elvis Costello, who contributes to latest single, ‘The Cleaner’, appear in the accompanying promo video.
“You can imagine what a buzz that was for us to put that together!”
As Ian put it, ‘My mum was a cleaner, they’re on the frontline in the class war. There’s two different types of ‘rising up’ at play during the song. And Elvis’s familiar crooning sneer is just what the doctor ordered.’
Such a great song, with more than a touch of Get Happy era positivity alongside Prowsey’s trademark added barb. There’s a Tamla treatment too, I feel, and you can’t beat a bit of brass.
“When I asked him to do it, I said, ‘I’m sorry to drag you back to the Get Happy era, but this is my concept – I need someone who can croon at the beginning and the end, and I’ll sing the meat of the song in the middle. I can’t croon – I’m just a fucking new wave shouter… but you can!’
“And he was like, ‘OK, sound!’ When it came for him to do it, we were running out of time, I had to get the record finished. He said, ‘I’m going to do it in the morning, sat at my table…’ This was in his apartment in Greenwich Village, New York City, us sat with a microphone, laptop and a cup of tea having this transatlantic phone call.
“We’d discussed how it was going to be, what it meant, all that, he’d then do something, send it, and we’d discuss where we were going with it. And I realised in those conversations – you forget these things – he produced ‘Free Nelson Mandela’, the first Specials album, Rum, Sodomy and the Lash, East Side Story… This was the first record I’d co-produced, and there’s me using Elvis as a mentor. I’ve done many times, but this time it was as a mentor as a producer!
“He asked, ‘Who wrote down all the strings and horn lines?’ I said, ‘I just hum them to the players.’ He’s laughing his head off as I’m telling him how I do it, then said, ‘I was like that.’ But then he learned how to notate, whereas I told him, ‘I haven’t got the time to do that… nor the inclination!’ I prefer the old-fashioned way, singing notes I just made up!
“We had these back and forths between us, and every time we talk he gives me a story from the past… which I absolutely adore! A conversation about what we’re doing might lead, for example, to a story about The Pogues… always a lively conversation! The whole thing was brilliant, and then we got his vocal, mixed it, sent it back, and he was knocked out, saying, ‘Wow! This is just an honour.’
“We agreed to hang out for a bit when he was next over, I asked if he’d be in the video as well, and he said, ‘Yeah!’ And that turned out fantastic too. All incredibly kind and generous of him, but also it worked artistically, beyond my wildest dreams – it sets that track up beautifully.”
It certainly does. You call it crooning, but I see that as more the domain of his dad, big band singer Ross McManus. He can clearly do that perfectly, but for me it’s that waver in his voice you captured, akin to something from his Blood and Chocolate era.
“Which is my favourite Elvis Costello album! Every single track on that record is brilliant.”
Hearing that vocal for the first time through the cans must have been special.
“Well, Elvis said, ‘You’ve got it in the register where my voice naturally cracks.’ And I just jumped in, saying, ‘And it really, really sounds like you!’ It was complete luck that we got the very best out of him with the key, and when we slotted him into the track and tidied the whole thing up with the horns and strings, me and Paul {Thompson, his long-term engineer and co-producer on this LP} just looked at each other and went, ‘Jesus Christ! It sounds magnificent!’”
True, and even if you were to take away the beginning and end – and please don’t – when the brass comes in, I’m thinking Dexys, The Attractions, The Rumour…
“A lot of people are saying Graham Parker.”
Dick Blewett and Neill King on The Undertones’ ‘It’s Going to Happen’ also come to mind.
“Well, that’s an unbelievable track too. Those horns are just a thing for that style of music I play and love. Whenever I go and watch Springsteen these days, he’s got the big horn section, and they knock you to the back of the stadium! And when we do our big Christmas show, we have a four-piece horn section. There’s nothing quite like it.
“But this is one of the few things I’ve written where horns completely take the track, especially at the end as another horn riff kicks in… which I guess is very Dexys. I feel totally at home with a blaring horn section, and it really worked.”
Indeed, and well done on getting 10 minutes into this interview before mentioning another of your heroes, Bruce Springsteen. That’s surely a first.
“Haha! Probably the first interview I’ve done where it’s taken so long! But you know when he’s doing ‘Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out’ and all the rest of it. And there are horns on various songs on this album.”
I aimed to take this record (recorded at Abbey Road Studios, London; Room 0, Sort Studios, Liverpool; Studio 1, Leeds Beckett University; and Red Planet Studios, Leeds) song by song, start to finish, but couldn’t resist going straight to side one, song four.
But now let’s get back on track, so to speak, with opener, ‘To the Letter’. As with songs across this album, your Merseyside tones may prompt my thinking, but I hear a bit of Pete Wylie alongside that Springsteen passion and the aforementioned Graham Parker. And of course, mention of GP suggests deep-set Costello DNA traces. And the lyrics are quality too, including lines like, ‘Topped up your ISA and you’re feeling much nicer’ and ‘Get me Mick Lynch on the phone!’
“That song’s a bit of a two-chord rant, even though there are other chords in certain areas. It’s like The Waterboys’ ‘We Will Not Be Lovers’ going for a drink with Bowie’s ‘Heroes’, knocking for Costello’s ‘Tokyo Storm Warning’ on the way. And I guess that’s a Dylan thing.
“It is a rant, but a rant about people using revolutionary socialist iconography as some sort of marketing tool, riding into town using all these touchstones… when actually they’re needed out there in the real world to effect some change. For example when we had a chance of some mild socialism under Jeremy Corbyn and they’re nowhere to be seen, these fuckers. And I include a lot of music writers in that.”
It seems ironic that a fella plugging a new LP called No Names mentions at least three ‘right on’ writers to me who get his goat, but I’ll let him tell you who they are, seeing as I’m a one-man band with no money or access to legal redress to get embroiled in such discussions online. He then mentions a certain South Welsh outfit I admire but feel I can’t really miss that bit out.
“Manic Street Preachers are the main culprits for me. They talk about Fidel Castro and all that, but what did they do when we had a chance to get Corbyn in? They went to The Guardian and slagged him off, like everybody else was doing. I just thought, ‘You phoney bastards!’ And they haven’t written a single tweet about the genocide in Gaza…”
In scribbling some questions, I wrote how he remains nothing less than impassioned on the political front, and wondered when to bring that in. But you don’t need many prompts, interviewing Prowsey.
“Haha! This is the thing though, I don’t consider myself a political singer in the way Billy Bragg is – that paints you into a corner, and human life and existence is much more varied than that. I’ll write songs about political disappointment or something, but I’d as happily write a wistful song about a fucking tree!”
Some might say what are we fighting for if we can’t appreciate all that too?
”Yeah, it’s all living to me.”
Back on ‘To the Letter’, the fiddles add another Dexy’s element, this time more akin to Too Rye Ay days. Then there’s the Topper Headon-like staccato percussion. Is that a bit more of his musical DNA peeping through?
“Jesus, yeah! At the end of the track? Very much! Again, that’s something I came up with. I lived and breathed this album, 24-7, probably driving my co-producer mad, texting him at four in the morning asking, ‘Why don’t we cut out the entire third verse, put something else in there? I was always coming up with ideas!
“But on the fiddle side, my Celtic Soul Brothers muse really comes from The Waterboys’ Fisherman’s Blues era rather than Dexy’s. I interviewed Kevin Rowland for an event last year, so went back, listened to Dexy’s and really enjoyed that, but while people compared us with them in our Pele days, it was more about The Waterboys for me. That said, listening to ‘Show Me’ and all that… fantastic!”
Moving on to the LP’s second single, ‘Keynote Speech’, how did the link with the She Sings Wakefield choir come about?
“Paul, my co-producer, knew them and suggested it. We had as bit of gospel singing on ‘Battle’ on the last album, and this time he suggested this choir. And the way it turned out was perfect. We recorded it in this big studio in Leeds {Beckett University}, and it became clear they were like the Greenham Common women singing, with a sort of righteous vibe. We didn’t expect that – that was a bonus. It had that sort of feeling, knocking us both sideways, us thinking, ‘This just totally works!’
Will they join you for any live dates from here?
“They’re coming with us to Todmorden, and they’ll be at the Christmas show.”
Is that your Liverpool local in the promo video?
“One of them! Haha. It’s Peter Kavanagh’s, a pub on the edge of the city centre, between Liverpool and Toxteth. Everybody in the town knows it, and it’s a great pub. The landlady, Rita, is 88 and won’t take any shit off anyone! We capture her singing at the very end on the chorus. When we went in to ask if we could do it, she terrified us! She’s a legend in the area. It was a great night doing that.”
Definitely another song for audience participation in the live shows.
“It really is, isn’t it.”
Who’s on sax?
“Neil Carr, who’s only recently started playing with us. He recorded the album and I asked if he’d like to play some shows. Again, Paul found him. I love that – different doors opening. Paul brought in the choir and the saxophone, and it’s lovely when that happens. It adds to it all.”
You mentioned a Greenham Common type choral vibe, and for me there’s something else – a Paul McCartney and Wings communal feel.
“Really? OK! There’s definitely a John Lennon thing going on. We recorded it live and the choir provided the beat with the clapping, like Lennon with ‘Give Peace a Chance’ in that hotel room in Montreal. And talking musical DNA, John and Paul are never far away for someone like me.”
Well, anyone who values their songwriting.
“I think so, yeah.”
As for ‘Rendezvous Point’, the first single, your tribute to The Clash, there’s a deeper influence for me, one found in Mick Jones’ own musical DNA – with an Ian Hunter / Mott the Hoople-like poignancy in its wistfulness for days passed.
“A few have said that. On the surface it sounds light, musically speaking, but the subject matter is wistful and big.
“Ever since my daughter, Rosalita was born – 14 and a half years ago – there’s always been one song on every album about her, and this is that song. And this time I said, ‘Would you like to come and sing on this?’ She didn’t say yes or no, she just did it, then wanted to go and hang out with her mates… she wasn’t bothered at all!
“I had this lovely little melody, slightly out of my range, and said, ‘You sing that, it’ll be lovely.’ And because we’ve got Steve Wickham playing on it too, all my favourite things are on the track – The Waterboys’ fiddle player, The Clash, and my daughter!”
It’s fair to say Steve’s fiddle gives you Room to Roam here, in an expansive sense, while Rosalita’s voice adds both sweetness and poignancy, I feel. And despite her reticence to get involved, would you say she’s a born performer like her dad?
“I wouldn’t know – she just did it perfectly then left! She wanted not to be with us, and we’re all cooing around her!
“Steve Wickham provides the swing. If you take the fiddle off, it sounds weird. He makes the song swing along. That’s the beauty of him. He gave us a few versions and I edited it together, knowing which would work. And my God, it works beautifully.”
Taking ‘Stand Your Ground’ and the next number, title track ‘No Names’, together, we have two inspirational songs I could hear Sam Fender do justice. And it might help your pension plan out if he’s to cover them.
“Do you know what, there’s been a lot said about this record, I’ve read lots of reviews and lots of people have got in touch, and it’s all been incredibly positive, probably more so than for any other record I’ve released. But what you’ve just said is my favourite thing, because I absolutely adore Sam Fender and think he’s written arguably the best record of the last 20 years in Seventeen Going Under. And the song he sings with Olivia Dean {‘Rein Me In’} just gets me – it’s beautiful. So I’m made up you’ve said that!”
Last time I interviewed you, six years ago, I suggested Bruce Springsteen cover one of your songs and there’s your pension plan sorted. It seems I’ve moved on to the next generation now.
“Haha! And the other thing you’ve said that nobody else seems to have latched onto is by putting those songs together, because they have the same subject matter – they’re both about Ellesmere Port, where I’m from.
“One is about deep, abiding friendships with the people I’ve known the longest and to this day are still my closest mates, and we remain defiant that we’ll always be mates – we’ll stand our ground and old age will not put us off going to the pub together. So that’s a very positive and love-filled track.
“Then there’s the other side, with ‘No Names’ about the reality of life on the ground in a place where violence is an ever-present concern. There’s a Springsteen thing going on there. It’s an operatic thing, moving in almost three parts, all aspects of violence covered. And everything I sing about in that song really happened.”
‘Born in a Merry Hour’ is another number that soothes the soul, and at the risk of many of my references for this record being too obviously from your neck of the woods, I feel there’s a bit of Head brothers magic in there – the spirit of Mick and John of The Pale Fountains, Shack, and so much more down the years. Perhaps the strings make me think that.
“Well, again that’s an honour. I love Mick and the music he’s made, and I’ve got to know him a bit in the past year or so. We did a podcast together and had some good conversations. Yeah, I’d buy that all year long! Mick and his brother have written some of the greatest songs out of Liverpool there’s ever been!”
Agreed, in my case first picking up on them on discovering The Pale Fountains’ From Across the Kitchen Table LP back in the day.
“Oh, and that actual song {the title track} is probably my favourite Pale Fountains song. So yeah, I’ll buy that… definitely!”
That leads me to another influence, one that may surprise you, going back a lot further and from a different part of the country. I’m mentioned lots of influences, and so far I’ve almost seen you nod in agreement. But with the title track I heard another, and he’s there on this song too, a certain Essex fairground lad by the name of David. Maybe it’s just your voice on those numbers.
“David Essex? Wow, that’s interesting. I really like his songs. I mean, ‘Rock On’, listen to that now, it’s a classic, but it’s the weirdest song you’ll hear in your life! It’s just like bass, and his performance is fantastic.”
I’ve been lucky enough to speak to his producer on that, Jeff Wayne, and we spoke a lot about their time working together.
“Did you ever come across a musicologist called David Stark?”
I certainly have. I was lucky enough to edit his Beatles memoir. A lovely fella, and well connected.
“Ah! Well, he once said, when we were stood in a street in London after he’d seen us in a show, I had an inflection of David Essex. So I think you’re definitely right!”
Well, there you go, and I think there are traces of that too on ‘Black Messiah’, which I’ll get to shortly. But first, ‘Mo’s Wheel’, another great story song with some lovely lines. Then again, you’ve had a bash at this songwriting lark a few years now, so you’ve learned a fair bit.
“Ha! Well, originally, when I started writing for this record, I wrote that and ‘No Names’ and thought maybe this was my Nebraska, just me and a guitar telling these stories, not big singalongs. So I wrote a few more, taking them to Tony Kiley, my producer, who insisted, ‘No, if we embellish these into proper big songs we’ll get the best out of them. I know what you’re thinking, but…’ And I think he was right.
“But ‘Mo’s Wheel’ would have stood alone as a story song, and again that’s a true story. I saw a Deliveroo lad fall off his bike, really fuck himself up in front of us. People rushed to help, him going so quick because he’s paid so badly. So I felt there was a back-story there.”
It was that line that first jumped out at me. No one else sings about a Deliveroo rider, surely.
“Well, when I put Easyjet in ‘Does This Train Stop on Merseyside?’ I don’t think anyone had ever done that before!”
Fair point. And while I said I won’t go too deep into his career back story this time, I should add there that Ian, whose journey in music began with indie band Pele in 1991 (their relentless touring winning a huge cult live following, with multiple successful headline UK tours alongside opening for The Pogues and Del Amitri on respective 1992 sold out tours), later regaining momentum in 2005, six years after forming Amsterdam, the abovementioned ‘Does This Train Stop on Merseyside?’ having legendary DJ John Peel weeping live on air and subsequently covered by Irish folk legend Christy Moore, who labelled its author a ‘magnificent songwriter’.
Back to 2026 though, and there’s some ‘Shipbuilding’-like Chet Baker instrumentation on the playout, so we’re kind of back in Costello territory.
“Funnily enough, that’s Martin Smith on flugelhorn, and he plays with Mick Head, so there’s another connection there. He did a great job as a one-off – he nailed it.”
I see ‘Black Messiah’, your tribute to Fred Hampton (the Black Panther murdered by the US government, aged just 21), is missing from the vinyl version.
“Yeah, because of time issues, and I left that off as it’s the most different song on the record. But It has connections with a previous song, ‘I Did It for Love’, this Latin thing going on, which we always play live.”
I hear a little Steve Harley too, which I guess fits in, timeframe-wise, with my previous suggestion re David Essex.
“Well, these are all classic songwriters. I guess Mick Jones had that too, writing straightforward classic pop songs like ‘Train in Vain’. Or ‘Spanish Bombs’ – look at the chords for that, nobody’s ever put four chords together like that. Yeah, Mick has that about him.”
‘When Bobby Was Alive’, written about the life of Irish republican prisoner Bobby Sands, whose death on hunger strike in 1981 became a defining moment of the Northern Ireland conflict, is a co-write with Damien Dempsey, someone Ian’s worked with a while, another with an impressive CV, including collaborations with Sinead O’Connor.
“He’s been a good mate for 20 or so years, and an inspiration. In one of the lulls during the lockdown, Damo said, ‘Why don’t you come to Dublin, bring your guitar, maybe we can write a song.’ So over I went, he picked me up from the airport and I told him I had this idea about Bobby Sands. Not a rebel song, but about the actual fella. I read a book about him, learning his favourite song of all time was ‘Band of Gold’ by Freda Payne, and it talks about him not as some folk devil on one hand or – from the other aspect – a republican icon. Just a guy.
“Damo started playing and went off in a reverie, coming into the song like a fucking force 10 gale, like only Damien Dempsey can! And I felt, ‘Yeah, that works!’ We did it in about an hour, then he said, ‘Right, Prowsey, we need to get refreshed!’ I didn’t know what that meant, and with Damien it could have meant anything. Are we going to the pub? Is there going to be something else he’s got that’s going to refresh us? Ha!
“It was December 6th, and what he actually meant was, we were going for a swim in the Irish Sea. He threw me a pair of shorts, we went to the Bull Wall in Dublin and he made me go into the sea… and it was unbelievably cold. There were others already in there. Apparently, it’s a thing they do in Dublin. So in I went, and I felt I was going to die – it was so cold, such a shock to the system. I swam round for a bit then got back out. I felt sick, I felt my life was in peril, but then had this amazing feeling starting from my toes, going up into my body, like, ‘I’m alive – it hasn’t killed me!’ It was like natural heroin or something. Damo got out a couple of minutes later and said, ‘Well done, I didn’t think you’d do that!’
“Anyway, later, putting the track together, I realised it needed something else, so at the end, Fiona McConnell, who plays with me and is from Cavan, comes in. So I sang my heart out, Damo sang his heart out, then she came along and she steals it!”
It truly is a three-part journey, like speed dating on tape. We start with you, then check out Damo, then decide on Fiona.
“Haha! Thing is, it’s an unusually structured song and because of its subject matter we felt we could do anything we wanted. There are no rules! And it’s like Fiona puts a bow on the song and ties it all up together, talking about the enduring influence and memory of Bobby.
“Damien didn’t even know we’d done that till I sent him the finished track. First there was instrumentation behind her, then I decided we should fade that out so she can just be a capella, doing a harmony with herself. And it’s really effective. I’m really proud of that.
There’s also subtle Duane Eddy style deep guitar in there, soothing the soul.
“Damo played that, coming up with it while we were recording in Essex. We dug out Tony Kiley’s old Les Paul and Damo played that. Yeah, it’s great.”
Then we find ourselves ‘300 Miles from Home’ at the finish line. I mentioned Macca earlier and he’s here too, I reckon.
“Ah, lovely!”
But there’s also an Edwyn Collins-like delivery, as if you’ve delivered a reflective take on one of the great unlikely pop hits, Orange Juice’s ‘Rip It Up’.
“Which is an amazing song! Ah, that’s lovely. I mean, this is my era, isn’t it. And I’ve listened to a lot of McCartney lately, the new record and a lot more, and definitely think my melodic sense is indebted to him. We won’t even record a song unless the melody’s really strong. You can write the best lyrics in history, but if you marry it to a really pedestrian or boring tune it will wither on the vine and won’t go anywhere. I get that off Paul.
“There’s a song on London Town, ‘Morse Moose and the Grey Goose’, kind of hidden but fantastic – an arrow right through me! What a song! Or ‘Calico Skies’ {from 1997’s Flaming Pie}. The ones off the unbeaten track but brilliant nonetheless.”
I agree, I felt the same on ‘rediscovering’ Red Rose Speedway and the gorgeous ‘Little Lamb Dragonfly’, hearing it at a time when it properly spoke to me about my life and my children.
“Yes, and like ‘Admiral Halsey’ {Ram, 1971}, or that brilliant horn line on ‘Letting Go’ {Venus & Mars, 1975}.
“I got Wings Over America when I was 14. I’d gone to America to stay with an aunt and uncle in Dallas, and this kid gave me this triple album. I was listening to that, and it must have gone in there. I remember coming back to the UK, everyone into ‘Gordon is a Moron’ {‘Jilted John’} and this classic punk, me saying, ‘Listen to this song, ‘Bluebird’!’ I’d just get laughed at, McCartney couldn’t have been any less cool at that point. I kept quiet about that from there but carried on listening. And his melodic sense is all over lots of my music.”
I mentioned ‘Rip It Up’, but pretty soon you’re truly ripping it up on that final track, it becoming something of a stadium finale, lighters raised above heads, audience swaying…
“Ha! Yeah, that was the idea!”
Is this the firs Christmas hit of the year or the last of last year?
“Haha! Well, I’d never mentioned Christmas in a song before, and from what I can ascertain a lot of people are really digging that. It’s getting a few mentions. Maybe we’ll start playing it live.”
It could even turn out to be your pension plan if Sam Fender doesn’t come up with the goods.
“Haha! I love that you’ve got one eye on my pension… at least someone has!”
I certainly see it going down a storm at your Liverpool Academy festive show on December 12th.
“Oh, that’s a good idea! Maybe we should. Fantastic!”
But before all that he had those two sell-out summer shows in the Phil’s music room, one with Amsterdam. Although, as I put it when we spoke, when I first saw the poster I feared a 1970s style Summertime Special variety revue with a dodgy comedian, a dance troupe, a magician, and some washed-up theatrical and music hall acts.
“Haha! No! We’ve been doing this for 20 years, a sit-down thing playing songs we otherwise don’t get chance to play. I have a meander through my back catalogue, although there’s always a healthy dose of ones they know, and there will be plenty from the new album. Then, on Saturday night we move out the chairs, bring the band in, and have a hooley!”
As it turns out, I see those shows included covers too, not only Springsteen’s 1975 classic ‘Born To Run’ but also one I mentioned when we spoke, having spotted he’d recently played one of my Stranglers favourites at The Star in Guildford, Surrey, where these punk legends played their first show in 1974.
“Yeah, we did a version of ‘No More Heroes’ with acoustic guitar and fiddle. Can you believe such a thing? I know JJ {Stranglers founding member Jean-Jacques Burnel} as we had the same manager for seven years, so I sent it to him, saying, ‘Hope you don’t think this is sacrilege, pal…’ And he replied, ‘Isn’t it mad how effective it is?’ Because that great Dave Greenfield {organ} run translates brilliantly to the fiddle.”
And it won’t be long until you’re back on tour around the UK and Ireland, further spreading the word about the new LP.
“Yes, there’s a full band tour this autumn, and in the second half we have Jarod Clemons {youngest son of legendary late E Street Band saxophonist Clarence Clemons} opening for us… if he lasts more than one gig and isn’t sick to death of us asking him questions about his dad!”
No Names is out now via Learpholl Music, with more detail via Ian’s website and his Facebook and Instagram links. And for tour details, head here.
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