I do my best not to ever second guess my photography. Shoot in the moment, edit as soon after as you can while you still remember how you felt at the show, put it out and let it be. Because for me, it is all about capturing those moments. It’s not a canvas to be gone over and over and over until you find that finishing master stroke.

But that being said, anyone’s approach to their art is evolving so I became curious as to what I’d do if I went back and looked at old photos and edited them again a while after the fact. So…I did.

First off I went back to look at a few choice shots from the excellent Fatherson playing a sold-out show in the Liquid Rooms in Edinburgh in…I don’t know..sometime earlier this year I think? I can’t remember. Who cares? It was well good anyway and that’s all that matters.

Tour is a strong word for 4 days away I grant you, but if I don’t use strong words to try and look cool then I’m out the game. Not a chance my natural good looks, wit and charm are going to cast that particular illusion.

Anyway, self-deprecation and procrastination aside, I went on what we’ll call a tour for the first time in November with who I feel I can legitimately call my bros in Swallows. The fine gentleman in the band were kind enough to invite me along to take photos and video of the tour. I guess they were just used to playing with my lens in their faces by this point and it’d throw them off if that wasn’t the case. So naturally I took up the offer with a tremendously enthusiastic, “Sure, why not?”

Sectioned are something of an acquired taste I guess. If you like the taste of your own blood in your mouth because your body is been forced to spontaneously bleed by how heavy and unrelentingly aggressive their music is then they’re probably ┬áto your tastes.

Presumably then Sectioned will reach their commercial peak once they’re exposed to those of a gothic persuasion who like indulge vampiric tendencies. That being the case, the band should probably in invested in some branded baggy trousers with dangly bits on them.

The idea of the acoustic protest singer is out of fashion these days. Unless you’re Frank Turner. But it isn’t entirely clear that you can class playing stadiums with a professional backing band while you drop you’re carefully considered one-liners to a synchronised light show as being an acoustic “protest singer”. Which isn’t to say that Martyn McKenzie is a protest singer, but with “Old Lands” he’s brought together the emotive tugging of introspective acoustic music together with a thought-provoking political message. When was the last time someone like Frank Turner did that? Excepting that time he put the word ‘fuck’ in a song.

You don’t need personal or social turmoil and alienation to fuel heavy┬ámusic any more. All you really need is great songs. More bands are missing that vital ingredient than they are sincerity, honesty and intensity. That’s not to say that all those things aren’t welcome, but you could be the most painfully honest band on the planet, and that doesn’t mean that your music will move anyone. Your sincerity may never be in doubt and all your shows may end in bloodshed but won’t necessarily inspire anyone to make sure that your band is the one that they need coming out of their headphones.