Some songs take their time, and this one certainly did. I’d had the guitar part and melody for months — something a bit Nick Drake-ish, all hanging chords and uncertainty — and while I liked the atmosphere, it never quite became a song. A few lines floated through, but nothing that stuck. Still, it kept nagging at me.
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At the end of 2024, I sent the idea to Ellie Gowers. We’d been talking about writing something together for a while, and this felt like a possible way in. Ellie replied almost immediately saying it gave her ideas straight away, which was encouraging. We set a date for the spring.
In March 2025, on one of the first properly sunny days of the year, I drove up from Hampshire to Birmingham and spent the day in Ellie’s garden near Edgbaston Cricket Ground. We sat outside with guitars, tea and notebooks. I’m not a particularly focused writer — I tend to meander — but Ellie was the opposite. Within half an hour she had the first verse and chorus pretty much nailed.
That set the tone. I brought in some old lyrics about memories of memories, which came from a conversation I’d had with Jim Moray a year or so earlier — about how we don’t really remember events themselves, we just remember the last time we told ourselves a story about them. From there, nostalgia crept in. Dusky lanes and garden gates, the flow of an old river through ancient countryside. With Ellie’s careful ear guiding the shape, the song started writing itself. By the evening it was done, and we went out for a celebratory curry. When in Birmingham…
We recorded the basic track a few weeks later, in April, at a small Stirchley studio owned by Laurence Hunt, who also played drums on the track. It was me, Ellie, Laurence and Jon Nice all squeezed in, tracking guitars, percussion and vocals. My vocals were re-recorded later, and Jon added keys from his home studio once he’d had time to live with the song. Ellie was there again, tuning in to all the subtleties, hearing things I hadn’t. The arrangement came alive in her hands.
Laurence picked up on a samba-like rhythm hiding under the surface. We took a lunch break and listened to The Obvious Child by Paul Simon, then Laurence got to work bringing that flavour to the track — not too overt, just a lilt to carry it along. The sumptuous final mix was handled by Albert Hansell at Wildgoose Studios in May, and Nick Cooke did the mastering.
Here are some photos and videos from the writing and recording sessions…
Ellie’s only on one track on this album, but she was central to its making. After I released Before I Knew What Had Begun I Had Already Lost, she pushed me — gently but persistently — to write more original material. I wasn’t sure I had a whole album in me, but she seemed to think otherwise. She’d stop in when touring down south, listen to demos, give notes and offer tips on how to handle writer’s block. I sent her so much of this album during the writing phase. In that sense, she became something of a mentor. A quiet but constant guide. I’m not sure this album would’ve come together without her.
The full album, Needless Alley, is out in October. Pre-orders will start soon. To stay up to date…
Credits
Recorded at: Studio 131, Birmingham
Mixed by: Albert Hansell
Produced by: Ellie Gowers & Jon Wilks
Mastered by: Nick Cooke
Featuring:
Jon Wilks – Acoustic guitar, electric guitar, vocals
Ellie Gowers – Vocals
Jon Nice – Keyboards
Laurence Hunt – Drums
Words and music by Jon Wilks and Ellie Gowers. Ellie Gowers is published by Groove Bound Songs Limited / Bucks Music Group Ltd.
Strung Out on the Line (lyrics)
I heard that you’d settled down
How do you leave this town?
As for me, I’m still here
Chasing down the memories through the years
I chased you down a dusky lane
Until you hopped the garden gate
Where the old river flows
That’s where I ran out of road
There’s no rhyme or reason
For the wanting of the days gone by
Turning through the seasons
We’re just memories of memories in time
Patterns fade and I’m strung out on the line
I was never one to plan
I took it day by day
So why do I feel bitter
About the time I waste?
We would waste it at the water
On a summer’s holiday
And where that old river flows
There are stories still stowed away
There’s no rhyme or reason
For the wanting of the days gone by
Turning through the seasons
We’re just memories of memories in time
Patterns fade and I’m strung out on the line
Wonder what I’d change if I had my way?
Would I make the same mistakes?
What do you think of me?
Am I in your frame of mind?
Do you remember me at all
Now a person so hard to find?
There’s no rhyme or reason
For the wanting of the days gone by
Turning through the seasons
We’re just memories of memories in time
Patterns change and I’m strung out on the line
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