The Music Years: Duncan Browne 1972

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Every now and then you will come across something in your hopefully long life, be it a painting, an image, music or the written word, that touches a raw emotion. So it was with me in 1972 with a lovely song called Journey by the much underrated Duncan Browne.

This song, when I first heard it, was great to listen to on the radio and I enjoyed the few times I heard it before it disappeared off the playlists. The artist himself disappeared into the oblivion of being a session musician, rather than the musical genius he was.

At the time, I didn’t think much about it. Not until almost half a century passed by and I heard this song once more on the radio, by pure chance. It touched a raw emotion with me because of the journey I feel I’m on with my writing. This journey may take me to places I have never been before, to meet people I’ve always been destined to meet. It’s a journey of discovery and a journey I’ve been making all my life, but never realised it.

Duncan Browne died in 1993 age 46 from cancer. A sad loss and so much potential that should have been heard by a wider audience.

Copyright © Tom Kane 2020

The Brittle Sea (The Brittle Saga Trilogy Book 1)

The Titanic disaster sparks a bloody feud between families in early 20th century America.
Drama  –  Family Saga  –  Historical Fiction  –  Historical Romance

‘The ship shuddered once more and then lurched with shocking violence. Ice came crashing down onto the deck at the prow of the ship.’

‘The cold was beginning to bite into her. Fingers and toes were burning, becoming numb, despite the thick ship’s blankets she was wrapped in.’

‘Rostron knew those who didn’t make it into a lifeboat and jumped into the sea, even wearing lifejackets, were most likely dead due to the extreme cold.’

‘It was a scene from an age gone by, a saloon with sawdust on the floor, spittoons gathering dust and extract of human.’

‘Information was power and Harker wielded that power expertly, another string to his blackmailers bow.’

Branches scraped against a windowpane and suddenly she realised she didn’t know where she was. The last thing she remembered was a ship, the cold, the ice, the brittle sea.

‘Turmoil had put her body into a coma and until one or the other entity prevailed, life was on hold, delicately balanced on the edge of the abyss, and death.’

‘The girl pulled a small pistol from the sling with her free arm and levelled it at him. It was then, too late, that he knew who she was.’

‘In a final act of contrition, New York’s rain washed the blood away and the sins of a family washed into the gutter where they belonged.’

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