Apparently I have a thing for British singers. It has become a joke among my friends that I won’t like it if I can’t find it on the UK iTunes store … and I also have been known to plan trips solely based on concert schedules (cough cough, Deacon Blue.)
But last night I got to not only see one of my absolute favorites, I got to attend his sound check and hang out with him for about 10 minutes afterwards, one-on-one. Not joking.
I forgot to pull up and show James the photo from the first time we met, that time in 2007 when I saw him with about 50 other people at Denver’s Walnut Room.
Below is a little then-and-now: his hair has gotten shorter and mine longer.
Here’s the good news. The man is still fucking awesome. And I can say that, because he curses like a sailor.
And had an absent, alcoholic father.
Yeah, me too. Except kinda worse, but we won’t go there.
And James was premature as a child. So premature that he nearly didn’t make it, and that’s what makes his voice so raspy.
Declan, my 32 weeker, gets croup all the time.
When I mentioned this to James, he laughed and said, “So, it’s like looking at your own life, eh?”
Except I haven’t sold millions of records all over the world, but whatever.
The new album, The Awakening, is about coming away from his father’s life death with a new perspective – something I have been trying to do for a long, long time. Everyone says things like this, but those songs really mean something to me.
Although, my favorite song on the album, “Slave to the Music,” was apparently written during a drunk conversation with the ghost of Michael Jackson. So, that’s cool too.
Clearly I love music, and I love photographing concerts. This one was no exception. I was thrilled when they asked me to come in and shoot the show. Even though, in some ways, it’s hard to photograph your favorite artists, because you are “working” when you just want to listen and dance.
Ha ha. Just kidding.
Taking photos of James Morrison is fucking rad.