Biography
​I've never been very good at colouring inside the lines.
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Looking back, it's all been wonderfully unexpected.
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I've been lucky enough to sing on West End stages, tour the world, write songs for artists I've admired since I was a kid and collaborate with some extraordinary people. I've made records that found their audience, a few that probably confused people, and at least one that Q Magazine memorably described as "drowning in a sea of pretentiousness." I chose to take that as a compliment.
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None of it was planned.
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I've simply listened and followed my curiosity wherever it's led.
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Along the way I've also learned to pay attention to synchronicity—to those curious moments when life seems to whisper, "this way." Whether you call them coincidence, serendipity, kismet or something more mysterious, I've found that the best adventures have often begun by noticing the signs and having the courage to follow them.
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Growing up in Swansea, South Wales, I spent my teenage years fronting local rock bands, blissfully unaware of where music would eventually take me. That journey has led from the West End stage to recording studios across Europe, from intimate pubs and clubs to arena tours and stadiums, and has introduced me to extraordinary musicians, collaborators and lifelong friends along the way.
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Many people first discovered me when I was cast as Jesus in Jesus Christ Superstar in London's West End. It was an extraordinary experience and a surreal way to enter the music business. More importantly, it taught me the power of storytelling through music and acting, something that has shaped everything I've done since.
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Following the show, I signed with Columbia Records and released my debut album, All I Am. It was an eclectic mix of pop, rock, folk and country influences that reflected where I was creatively at the time, producing the UK Top 40 single Sugar for the Soul and appearances on Top of the Pops. Looking back, it was a wonderful apprenticeship—not just in recording and touring, but in discovering the kind of artist I wanted to become.
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I've never been particularly good at staying in one musical lane.
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One of the happiest chapters of my career came with The Storys, a band formed with five close friends and built around a shared love of great songs and great harmonies. We released three albums, toured extensively throughout Europe and had the privilege of opening for Elton John, Santana, Joe Cocker and Celine Dion, to name-drop a few legends. Night after night we learned what it means to connect with an audience, and those years remain some of the most joyful and rewarding of my musical life.
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Those friendships have stood the test of time—and the songs have kept finding new ways to bring us back together. Along the way I had the joy of making a beautiful Americana album, Unfolding, with country/folk singer Rosalie Deighton, a project that remains very dear to me and one I'm immensely proud of.
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These days I'm delighted to be making music once again with my old Storys compadre Andy Collins and ace Liverpudlian singer, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Pete Riley as Balsamo Collins Riley. What began as weekly lockdown songwriting sessions simply to stay connected soon evolved into a new creative partnership. Together we've rediscovered the simple joy of writing songs with no agenda other than making music we believe in—and that same spirit of friendship, humour and collaboration runs through everything we do.
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Alongside that, one of the projects closest to my heart has been ChimpanA, my ongoing collaboration with Rob Reed. Together we've created music without boundaries, blending progressive rock, electronica, orchestral textures, poetry and cinematic songwriting into something that feels entirely our own. The first album famously prompted Q Magazine to declare it was "drowning in a sea of pretentiousness"—a review we've always worn as something of a badge of honour. Since then we've released The Empathy Machine and M.I.A. Music Is Art (Volume 1), albums that have been embraced by listeners and critics alike who enjoy music that isn't afraid to be ambitious, emotional and sonically adventurous. ChimpanA represents complete creative freedom for me—a place where ideas are allowed to grow without compromise, where experimentation is welcomed, and where curiosity always wins.
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Songwriting has remained the thread running through everything I do. Over the years I've been fortunate enough to write songs for artists including Meat Loaf, Slash, Cliff Richard and Anthony Callea, while collaborating with musical heroes such as Jon Lord, Eric Woolfson and many remarkable musicians along the way. Every collaboration has reinforced my belief that great songs aren't built on perfection—they're built on connection.
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My own solo work has become increasingly personal over the last few years. Through a series of EPs and ongoing recordings, I've found myself returning to the music I love most: Americana, classic songwriting, memorable melodies and lyrics that try to ask better questions rather than provide easy answers. These songs feel less like reinvention and more like coming home.
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Creativity has never stopped at music. Painting has been a lifelong passion, and returning to university to study Fine Art has opened up another way of exploring many of the same themes that find their way into my songs—memory, myth, mystery and what it means to be human.
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I’ve also, somewhat unexpectedly, become an “accidental poet”, with my first poem, The Wolfman, published in Poetry Wales, a serious literary journal. It felt like another natural extension of the same impulse that drives everything I do: trying to make sense of experience through stories, images and language.
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I'm endlessly fascinated by storytelling in all its forms—whether through music, theatre, visual art, folklore and paranormal or the strange corners of life that often spark the best ideas.
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Recently, I've become a proud part of Grand Ambition, a creative collective based at Swansea Grand Theatre.
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Grand Ambition is Richard Mylan, Michelle Mcternan, Christian Patterson, me and an extraordinary collective of artists, musicians, writers, actors, directors, producers and creatives who believe that the best stories are often the ones closest to home.
Together we're making new theatre, developing new work and creating opportunities for people across South Wales to discover, share and celebrate their own stories.
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One of the outreach projects is Future Blood. Founded over a decade ago by drummer, producer and songwriter Rich Thair, it has become an inspiring home for young musicians and songwriters across South Wales.
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Throughout my own career I've been incredibly fortunate to learn from musicians, producers and writers who gave their time, shared their knowledge and believed in me. Future Blood gives me the chance to do the same for the next generation.
Working with young songwriters isn't about teaching them to write like someone else. It's about helping them discover their own voice, trust their instincts and realise that the stories only they can tell are often the most powerful ones.
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After more than three decades of making music, I've realised that success isn't measured by record sales or applause nearly as much as it is by connection—between musicians, between audiences and, perhaps most importantly, between people.
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I've been incredibly fortunate. The songs I have sung and written have taken me around the world, introduced me to lifelong friends and led to opportunities I could never have imagined growing up in Swansea. But they've also taught me something else: that creativity isn't a destination. It's a conversation—one that becomes richer the more generously it's shared.
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These days I'm just as excited by helping someone else write their first great song as I am by writing my next one. Whether that's through Grand Ambition, Future Blood, making music with old friends, making art in the studio or following another unlikely creative, paranormal path, the thing that still excites me most is discovering what might happen next.
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I've never really had a master plan.
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I've simply tried to stay curious, pay attention when life leaves the occasional breadcrumb, and trust that the next song usually knows where it wants to go long before I do.
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So I'll keep making things.
I'll keep collaborating.
I'll keep watching for the signs.
I'll keep colouring outside the lines...​and I'll keep on listening.