I swear, that Neil Colquhoun, (half the) musical mastermind behind The Stantons, is a magician.

Or a wizard.

I know nothing of music. Have I said that before?

Really nothing.

I can play half of chopsticks on the piano. Chopstick then, I guess. And I can tell you what a treble clef looks like. Oh, and I like listening to it. But that's it.

Neil, on the other hand, seems to know all things.

Aside from being able to segue seamlessly from Come Fly With Me (now sadly abandoned for technical reasons) into one of his own band's masterpieces, he can create. Spontaneously conjure up musical notes from the thinnest of air.

"Can you just do something during this speech on some tiny instrument?"

Yes, he can.

"Can you just do, I dunno, some sound effect here to denote and evoke a heart being plucked up like a daffodil?"

Yes, he can.

"Can you just play, I dunno, something backgroundy that feels, I dunno, a bit like being in love with a trapeze artiste?"

And last night, it seems that yes, indeed, he can.

To the point where poor old Alexandre Amant staggered over his words on account of the unquestionable beauty of the "dunno, something backgroundy" from Mr Colquhoun.

I have a bad case of hero worship.

Neil, I don't know how you do it but that you do it at all, I am inestimably grateful.

Let's do it again sometime, can we?

November, p'rhaps?