The Newcastle musician’s seventh album, The Ruby Cord, continues his commitment to world-building – here, a ravaged landscape inspired by gaming, slowness and ‘old-fashioned melody’
Richard Dawson doesn’t think he would survive for long in a post-apocalyptic world. Would he get killed off in the pre-credits sequence of a movie? “Probably, and it’s hard to admit that. I have sleep apnoea as well, so I’d have to go off on my own because I make such a noise when I sleep,” he says, over a pint by a crackling fire in The Boathouse pub in the Northumberland village of Wylam. It’s “probably the best pub in the world,” according to the sign outside, and today it feels like it. “I’ve actually given this a lot of thought. The only way I would survive would be to find a cave, and then to booby-trap it, because the volume of my snoring is immense. So not only am I going to have to sleep in a cave that is booby-trapped, I’m also going to be absolutely exhausted. I’m not going to last long.”
He laughs happily. “I already said to [partner and Hen Ogledd bandmate] Sally that when it happens, she’s better off doing me a favour and making it quick.”
