Photo: Tony Webster
Anything to do with studio gear and music production holds an endless fascination for me. So, when I first put pen to paper to begin my debut crime novel (my other passion) I knew the tried and tested police detective trope would be hoofed out in favour of a hip record producer. With their multi‑faceted skill sets, producers could make perfectly acceptable crime investigators, I reasoned — fully aware that I would’ve shoehorned music into whatever genre I was working in. But the further into the first draft of the book I waded, the more perfect the premise became.
I’ve recorded with a few producers — from some names you’d recognise, through to friends of mine doing great things — and despite them having very different personalities, they all share certain traits. Daily, they solve puzzles, are artistic yet proficient with technology, and — arguably most important of all — they know how to get the best out of people. I knew I’d chosen the right protagonist.
My novel Protection Song opens with a young singer‑songwriter called Ellie, who has begun working with Ian, an experienced record producer in North London. Ian recognises Ellie’s talent and respects her desire to move away from her abusive manager, who is sending her down a path in the industry she is no longer comfortable with. Together, Ian and Ellie are secretly developing her low‑key songwriting career instead. But when Ian finds Ellie dead in his studio, and suicide is suspected, he’s forced to attempt his toughest puzzle yet.
This being a crime novel, I needed to include the seediness of the London music scene, along with the criminal underbelly. But I found writing scenes about the creative and technical process of making music the most rewarding. I imagined two people sitting in a room, contemplating creating something from nothing — that’s what the magic of music is, for me — and giving readers of traditional crime fiction a taste of what that feels like. I wanted to convey the unique connection between a fragile artist and an encouraging producer who commits to fostering the idea through to its conclusion. I knew the first draft would be chock‑full of studio references that would probably be weeded out by my editors (though nothing too technical). But I wrote the book I personally wanted to read, in the hope that there’d be others like me.
With their multi‑faceted skill sets, producers could make perfectly acceptable crime investigators.
When the manuscript was finally edited, I was delighted to hear they loved learning about the recording process, and left most of the detail in. Turns out, readers were also intrigued by the backdrop of gigs and studios throughout the book — and as to why a producer, who grew up with tape machines and fixed EQ points on a console, might think differently to a young bedroom beatmaker who’s always had Ableton.
Part of the plot revolves around a song secretly recorded by Ellie before she died. It’s called ‘Under The Tree’ and is the ‘protection song’ of the book’s title. Some of the lyrics appeared as a poem in the novel, but I’d spent so long with them in the writing process, I realised I needed to hear the song come to life. So, I wrote the music and called in some friends to help produce and release it. I had no idea when I started writing that it would become a multimedia project but, as I spend most of my time thinking about music and recording tech, I’m happy that it was inevitable.