My guitar except it has been heavily modified, Gibson 480R and T pickups, Stacked tone and volume pots, Spague Orange Drop Tone Capacitors, totally re-wired etc.!

On this Page - Music Files and Song Lyrics

I've recently started experimenting with PC based recording.
Anyway here's my first songs. Click the button to hear it, or right click to save it to your PC.

Also here is an interview given by my father on a local Christian radio in Scotland, just six weeks before his death. In this interview he talks about his life and faith.

The interviewer is the Rev Frank Hartley and the interview took place in Kilsyth at Revival Radio in March 2003.

Click to open Interview with Rev. Stan March  37mb'Interview with Rev. Stan March, Revival Radio, March 2003'

Click to open SecondHandBlues 6mb'Second Hand Blues' A Larry Norman/Bob Dylan-esque song about the shortness of human life and the questions it raises. A song created to raise the questions rather than to give the ansewers.

Click to open Juke Box Zero autobiographical 5mb'Juke Box Zero (autobiographical)' making affectionate mock of all us home-recording bedroom guitarists. Done as a contribution to Burton Community Church's building project fundraiser CD.

Click to open Space4Faith 6mb'Space4Faith' a reminder of the place of faith in our daily lives.

Click to open No Damage Done Master Mix 6mb'No Damage Done' it is based upon Romans 8:35-39.

Click to Open Giving and Taking Away'Giving and Taking Away' based on the experience of Job.

Click to open Merciffully Short 800kb'Mercifully Short' my first 30 second demo.

Click to open Merciffully Short 800kbSomething completely different - the church bells of l'├ęglise de Saint Martin in Villy en Auxois. We have awoken to the sound of these bells every day for 14 years. We will really miss them.

Song Lyrics

Apparently Angus Young's schoolteacher caught him writing lyrics in class one afternoon and wrote a letter home to his parents telling them that his pre–occupation with "poetry of some vile sort" was not welcomed during the schoolday.

Of course Angus Young is now a multi–millionaire, whilst his schoolteacher isn't!

Is there a moral in that tale - probably not. But it is a neat intro to a section where I share with the World the lyrics to "Classic Rock Songs As Yet Unwritten".

Although, truth to tell, I did have a brief creative relationship with a guy called (somewhat improbably) Gordon Huskisson. He was (unlike me) genuinely gifted. Took my lyrics and crafted songs from them. All accomplished using a home recording studio neatly fitted into an MFI wardrobe. I assure you this is true. If I was making it up it would be more believable!

As our creative partnership was meant to be a commercial, song-selling venture; it has, by that measure, to be esteemed as a pure, unadulterated "crash and burn" failure!

But we did have a lot of fun!

I guess the commercial, pre-fabricated, market-following, inspirationless, desperately dull pop-industry of the time (I'm not bitter!) just couldn't appreciate the quality and artistic depth of what we were presenting them with ... yes, that's probably it.

For those of you with taste and depth a veritable feast follows. Enjoy.

N.B. Appreciation, offers of contracts etc. can be mailed to me by clicking the "Email Me" button above.


Time runs and jumps and flies,
Tramples hearts and heads and lives,
Only the strongest love survives,
The rest becomes Spindrift.

Cutting fragments,
Biting pieces,
The smallest cut the deepest,

Loves shattered on life's rocks,
The wind snatches the fragments and they're lost,
But they're not,

The wind carries them away,
Shards of love and better days
One day to throw them in your face,

How they will sting your face and eyes,
These tiny remnants of your life,
When you had bid these things goodbye,

Frozen fragments,
Piercing pieces,
The smallest cut the deepest,

The smallest memories are the strongest,
And the most easily awoken,
A look, or the way a word is spoken,

Coming back and haunting,
Coming back and hurting,
Coming back for certain,

© Stephen March 16/2/89 - 21/2/89

Danger, Danger

She knows enough about guns to shoot one,
She knows enough about poison to pour,
She knows enough about hand-grenades to pull out the pin,
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

She knows enough about fighting to beat me,
She knows enough about lying to tell,
She knows enough about men to guess what they're thinking,
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

I'm keeping my head down,
I'm keeping my hands clean,
I don't mess around with anything,
I never know what she knows but I know she knows enough,
And a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

© Stephen March 17/01/90

A Quiet Scream

I have been searching,
Looking for something,
I have been trying,
To get my wrong put right,
But I have found nothing,
That I could believe in,
And now I'm tired and feel like giving up the fight.

If someone knows something,
Won't they please tell me,
If you know it won't you share it,
Won't you put me right,
I know there must be more to life than seventy years and dying,
But I'm tired and feel like giving up this fight.

I hear rumours on the street,
I pass by mysterious buildings,
I see little black books on a Sunday night,
But no-one tells me anything,
Must be some kind of secret,
Please can't someone shed some light.

I have heard confused stories,
About some Middle-Eastern man,
Who spoke of God and goodness,
And living out God's plan,
But most of all he spoke about setting people free,
And I wish somehow that that applied to me.

© Stephen March 28/11/89


Paris is a city,
Is a city full of wonder,
Is a city full of beauty,
Is a city I could love.

Looking down from the Arc de Triomphe,
Standing on the glory of Napoleon,
Seeing Paris spread her treasures,
Out and on to the horizon,
Paris is a city,
Is a city I could love.

Ile de la Cité has a certain uniformity,
Notre Dame is an artist's work in stone,
But Sacre Coeur has a presence and an awesome solemnity,
That isn't in the statues and isn't in the stone.

The glories of Paris drift by the tourist,
Taking pictures, taking movies, never taking time to see,
Paris saves her glories for the people who live with her,
Paris saves her best for those who call her home.

Place de la Concorde is magnificent,
You have to touch the obelisk,
The Louvre gives the treasures of the World a stately home,
And the Metro has a vibrancy and shivers with excitement,
Chinese boys play Dire Straits for the commuters rocking home.

© Stephen March 20/04/89

Silver Ice Golden Fire

The sunset is like Midas,
At his touch the world is changed to gold,
But though he has the power to change,
He hasn't the power to keep his hold,
As he slips below the horizon,
Bloody fingernails loose their hold,
The moonrise smiles and snatches all,
A silver world is wrought from gold.

Silver and gold, furtively fighting,
Silver and gold, above the notice of the world,
Silver and gold, only certain eyes see it,
The Sun and the Moon and the silver and gold.

The Sun and the Moon shine on the forest,
One frosts it with ice and one sets it on fire,
Frozen in the magical moment of changing,
Ablaze in the changing from ice into fire.

The ice and the fire, furtively fighting,
The ice and the fire, above the notice of the world,
The ice and the fire, only certain eyes see it,
The Sun and the Moon and the ice and the fire.

Silver ice, golden fire,
See them jostle, watch a while,
They grab and grip, pull and slip,
They fight to hold the world a while.

© Stephen March 26/12/88

Okay guys - there you have it! My soul lies bare before you all. I guess I'm officially out of the closet as an erstwhile, would-be poet.

From now on I'll be wearing mostly black.

Sadly degenerated follicles prevent the wearing of luxuriant, flopping locks cascading casually around my shoulders.

Also I have discovered that goatees really do have to be black to work. Greying, ginger goatees really don't cut the mustard. So I guess my outward appearance won't change much (apart from a darker, and ever more generously proportioned, silhouette.) But from now on you and I will KNOW.

I wonder if any of you out there in pixel-land are similarly afflicted/blessed, with the urge to get creative every once in a while?

Those who feel they might be, (or who have a friend who might be), can click that big blue button on the right that says EMAIL ME.