The drama. The narrative arc. The pay-off. Listening to Love Form, it’s all there. From the opening tantalising tendrils of ‘The Messenger’ to the blaze of distortion, intimately conversational piano and persistent snare keeping things tight that follow, the debut
album by the West Country’s Charlie Jones immediately puts you in the mood.

“A piece like that is a kind of selfish gospel music,” says Charlie. “It represents the emotion of undertaking something which is deeply enjoyable, yet you know to be very bad indeed to be indulging in. That very fact feels so good.”

Charlie Jones is what we call a musician’s musician. His bass playing has been called upon by the likes of Robert Plant, Page & Plant, Siouxsie Sioux and, latterly, Goldfrapp. His talents as a composer saw him win a Grammy for co-writing on the Robert Plant
and Alison Krauss album Raising Sand.

On Love Form, Charlie finds his own métier, stretching out to two sides of instrumental languor and tension that only a well-seasoned writer and player could conjure. Stylish, intellectual and sensuous noir of this ilk is at best hinted at or sampled these days but here we are blessed with the talents of a composer able to fully immersive himself in the depths of such kaleidoscopic
dimensions.

Support from Jack Cheshire.

TICKETS HERE

The drama. The narrative arc. The pay-off. Listening to Love Form, it’s all there. From the opening tantalising tendrils of ‘The Messenger’ to the blaze of distortion, intimately conversational piano and persistent snare keeping things tight that follow, the debut
album by the West Country’s Charlie Jones immediately puts you in the mood.

“A piece like that is a kind of selfish gospel music,” says Charlie. “It represents the emotion of undertaking something which is deeply enjoyable, yet you know to be very bad indeed to be indulging in. That very fact feels so good.”

Charlie Jones is what we call a musician’s musician. His bass playing has been called upon by the likes of Robert Plant, Page & Plant, Siouxsie Sioux and, latterly, Goldfrapp. His talents as a composer saw him win a Grammy for co-writing on the Robert Plant
and Alison Krauss album Raising Sand.

On Love Form, Charlie finds his own métier, stretching out to two sides of instrumental languor and tension that only a well-seasoned writer and player could conjure. Stylish, intellectual and sensuous noir of this ilk is at best hinted at or sampled these days but here we are blessed with the talents of a composer able to fully immersive himself in the depths of such kaleidoscopic
dimensions.

Support from Jack Cheshire.

TICKETS HERE

The drama. The narrative arc. The pay-off. Listening to Love Form, it’s all there. From the opening tantalising tendrils of ‘The Messenger’ to the blaze of distortion, intimately conversational piano and persistent snare keeping things tight that follow, the debut
album by the West Country’s Charlie Jones immediately puts you in the mood.

“A piece like that is a kind of selfish gospel music,” says Charlie. “It represents the emotion of undertaking something which is deeply enjoyable, yet you know to be very bad indeed to be indulging in. That very fact feels so good.”

Charlie Jones is what we call a musician’s musician. His bass playing has been called upon by the likes of Robert Plant, Page & Plant, Siouxsie Sioux and, latterly, Goldfrapp. His talents as a composer saw him win a Grammy for co-writing on the Robert Plant
and Alison Krauss album Raising Sand.

On Love Form, Charlie finds his own métier, stretching out to two sides of instrumental languor and tension that only a well-seasoned writer and player could conjure. Stylish, intellectual and sensuous noir of this ilk is at best hinted at or sampled these days but here we are blessed with the talents of a composer able to fully immersive himself in the depths of such kaleidoscopic
dimensions.

Support from Jack Cheshire.

TICKETS HERE

The drama. The narrative arc. The pay-off. Listening to Love Form, it’s all there. From the opening tantalising tendrils of ‘The Messenger’ to the blaze of distortion, intimately conversational piano and persistent snare keeping things tight that follow, the debut
album by the West Country’s Charlie Jones immediately puts you in the mood.

“A piece like that is a kind of selfish gospel music,” says Charlie. “It represents the emotion of undertaking something which is deeply enjoyable, yet you know to be very bad indeed to be indulging in. That very fact feels so good.”

Charlie Jones is what we call a musician’s musician. His bass playing has been called upon by the likes of Robert Plant, Page & Plant, Siouxsie Sioux and, latterly, Goldfrapp. His talents as a composer saw him win a Grammy for co-writing on the Robert Plant
and Alison Krauss album Raising Sand.

On Love Form, Charlie finds his own métier, stretching out to two sides of instrumental languor and tension that only a well-seasoned writer and player could conjure. Stylish, intellectual and sensuous noir of this ilk is at best hinted at or sampled these days but here we are blessed with the talents of a composer able to fully immersive himself in the depths of such kaleidoscopic
dimensions.

Support from Jack Cheshire.

TICKETS HERE

The drama. The narrative arc. The pay-off. Listening to Love Form, it’s all there. From the opening tantalising tendrils of ‘The Messenger’ to the blaze of distortion, intimately conversational piano and persistent snare keeping things tight that follow, the debut
album by the West Country’s Charlie Jones immediately puts you in the mood.

“A piece like that is a kind of selfish gospel music,” says Charlie. “It represents the emotion of undertaking something which is deeply enjoyable, yet you know to be very bad indeed to be indulging in. That very fact feels so good.”

Charlie Jones is what we call a musician’s musician. His bass playing has been called upon by the likes of Robert Plant, Page & Plant, Siouxsie Sioux and, latterly, Goldfrapp. His talents as a composer saw him win a Grammy for co-writing on the Robert Plant
and Alison Krauss album Raising Sand.

On Love Form, Charlie finds his own métier, stretching out to two sides of instrumental languor and tension that only a well-seasoned writer and player could conjure. Stylish, intellectual and sensuous noir of this ilk is at best hinted at or sampled these days but here we are blessed with the talents of a composer able to fully immersive himself in the depths of such kaleidoscopic
dimensions.

Support from Jack Cheshire.

TICKETS HERE

The drama. The narrative arc. The pay-off. Listening to Love Form, it’s all there. From the opening tantalising tendrils of ‘The Messenger’ to the blaze of distortion, intimately conversational piano and persistent snare keeping things tight that follow, the debut
album by the West Country’s Charlie Jones immediately puts you in the mood.

“A piece like that is a kind of selfish gospel music,” says Charlie. “It represents the emotion of undertaking something which is deeply enjoyable, yet you know to be very bad indeed to be indulging in. That very fact feels so good.”

Charlie Jones is what we call a musician’s musician. His bass playing has been called upon by the likes of Robert Plant, Page & Plant, Siouxsie Sioux and, latterly, Goldfrapp. His talents as a composer saw him win a Grammy for co-writing on the Robert Plant
and Alison Krauss album Raising Sand.

On Love Form, Charlie finds his own métier, stretching out to two sides of instrumental languor and tension that only a well-seasoned writer and player could conjure. Stylish, intellectual and sensuous noir of this ilk is at best hinted at or sampled these days but here we are blessed with the talents of a composer able to fully immersive himself in the depths of such kaleidoscopic
dimensions.

Support from Jack Cheshire.

TICKETS HERE

The drama. The narrative arc. The pay-off. Listening to Love Form, it’s all there. From the opening tantalising tendrils of ‘The Messenger’ to the blaze of distortion, intimately conversational piano and persistent snare keeping things tight that follow, the debut
album by the West Country’s Charlie Jones immediately puts you in the mood.

“A piece like that is a kind of selfish gospel music,” says Charlie. “It represents the emotion of undertaking something which is deeply enjoyable, yet you know to be very bad indeed to be indulging in. That very fact feels so good.”

Charlie Jones is what we call a musician’s musician. His bass playing has been called upon by the likes of Robert Plant, Page & Plant, Siouxsie Sioux and, latterly, Goldfrapp. His talents as a composer saw him win a Grammy for co-writing on the Robert Plant
and Alison Krauss album Raising Sand.

On Love Form, Charlie finds his own métier, stretching out to two sides of instrumental languor and tension that only a well-seasoned writer and player could conjure. Stylish, intellectual and sensuous noir of this ilk is at best hinted at or sampled these days but here we are blessed with the talents of a composer able to fully immersive himself in the depths of such kaleidoscopic
dimensions.

Support from Jack Cheshire.

TICKETS HERE

The drama. The narrative arc. The pay-off. Listening to Love Form, it’s all there. From the opening tantalising tendrils of ‘The Messenger’ to the blaze of distortion, intimately conversational piano and persistent snare keeping things tight that follow, the debut
album by the West Country’s Charlie Jones immediately puts you in the mood.

“A piece like that is a kind of selfish gospel music,” says Charlie. “It represents the emotion of undertaking something which is deeply enjoyable, yet you know to be very bad indeed to be indulging in. That very fact feels so good.”

Charlie Jones is what we call a musician’s musician. His bass playing has been called upon by the likes of Robert Plant, Page & Plant, Siouxsie Sioux and, latterly, Goldfrapp. His talents as a composer saw him win a Grammy for co-writing on the Robert Plant
and Alison Krauss album Raising Sand.

On Love Form, Charlie finds his own métier, stretching out to two sides of instrumental languor and tension that only a well-seasoned writer and player could conjure. Stylish, intellectual and sensuous noir of this ilk is at best hinted at or sampled these days but here we are blessed with the talents of a composer able to fully immersive himself in the depths of such kaleidoscopic
dimensions.

Support from Jack Cheshire.

TICKETS HERE

The drama. The narrative arc. The pay-off. Listening to Love Form, it’s all there. From the opening tantalising tendrils of ‘The Messenger’ to the blaze of distortion, intimately conversational piano and persistent snare keeping things tight that follow, the debut
album by the West Country’s Charlie Jones immediately puts you in the mood.

“A piece like that is a kind of selfish gospel music,” says Charlie. “It represents the emotion of undertaking something which is deeply enjoyable, yet you know to be very bad indeed to be indulging in. That very fact feels so good.”

Charlie Jones is what we call a musician’s musician. His bass playing has been called upon by the likes of Robert Plant, Page & Plant, Siouxsie Sioux and, latterly, Goldfrapp. His talents as a composer saw him win a Grammy for co-writing on the Robert Plant
and Alison Krauss album Raising Sand.

On Love Form, Charlie finds his own métier, stretching out to two sides of instrumental languor and tension that only a well-seasoned writer and player could conjure. Stylish, intellectual and sensuous noir of this ilk is at best hinted at or sampled these days but here we are blessed with the talents of a composer able to fully immersive himself in the depths of such kaleidoscopic
dimensions.

Support from Jack Cheshire.

TICKETS HERE