Spring 2001. It’s a beautiful sunny day and I’m stood in the open rooftop skylight of the canalside mill conversion in Lancaster that was home at that time. The cheap thin carpet is rough on my bare feet, ducks are quacking six floors below and I’m sipping absurdly hot tea, basking in the unexpected warmth of the morning, enjoying the view towards the Ashton Memorial and listening for the first time to the bleak Northern tales of drinking, disaster, lost love and desperation on Natural History, the debut album of I Am Kloot.

Even now, many years later, the opening bars of ‘To You’ transport me instantly to that time – itchy feet, warm skin, burnt tongue, broken heart and everything…

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