Rob Marr, in his own words:

I fell in love with the piano aged six, when my big sister started taking lessons. I pestered my parents, grew a bit and got started a year later, pissing off my sister as I took to it more easily. She could draw. I could play. I'd sit on the stool, legs dangling, in ten-minute bursts timed by my mum's kitchen pinger.

Almost twenty years later, inspired by the short story writers Raymond Carver and Annie Proulx, and schooled by umpteen bands playing blues, soul and big band jazz, I caught a severe and long-lasting dose of the song-writing bug. Around the same time, a mate introduced me to Rick Astley, 80s legend and all round decent bloke. We hit it off and I spent 18 months making tea, producing demos and playing Never Gonna Give You Up to the Germans. When the job with Rick came to an end, I got busy writing my own material and he returned the favour, playing acoustic guitar and singing back-ups in London's history-laden musical hovels.

The bones of my first album, Domestic Dramas, were recorded in three weeks over Christmas/New Year, in an old radio station round the corner from my home. I was skint and learned to play the drums beforehand to save money. Like many debuts, the record had a long, slow gestation, followed by a quick, exhilarating birth. I fund a life of artistic endeavour by working part-time at Great Ormond Street Children's Hospital, having previously (just) survived an earlier post of NHS Complaints Manager. Given a spare evening, I love cooking up a feast in the kitchen with the world service on the radio and a tune or two in my head. When the grime of south- east London gets too much I grab a tent and head for the hills for a long walk with whoever will come with me.