The creative process is unique to each and every person. Some lock themselves away crafting, culling and creating until they hear what they want to hear. Others live in the moment and what ever goes down stays down.

And then there are those who lock their equipment away in a storage room, go into the video store next door to their gaff, ask for a job and spend the year watching Weird Science and Werner Hernog movies, before being forced into writing after “bulls**ting” their manager over a pint.

Ciaran McFeely is one such person who took that particular road less travelled. A brief recap:  He made the transition from Young Offender to Simple Kid back in 2004 with the release of his debut album, SK1. The album, a concise and contemporary amalgamation of rootsy folk, slacker blues and simplistic electronics, was received well by the music press before slowly beginning the climb up the charts.

Appearances at respected festival shindigs such as Glastonbury and television performances on Jools Holland brought Ciaran out of the musical wilderness, a wilderness he had been inhabiting since The Young Offenders lost their way on their American odyssey.

Despite their premature demise, Ciaran stayed on in the States, during which time he found himself homeless and “just living” away from music and mixing in different circles. The escape from music and all the clicks and social circles contained within gave him perspective and he returned to London refreshed and ready to go once again.

Having busked his way to critical acclaim and mild commercial success, Ciaran was once again floored by a killer blow, when the label he was on went under, leaving the Kid in no-mans land, not to mention fragile and drained from road duties .
And that’s where “The Great Hibernation” begins, a place and time filled with super nerds, computer generated women and German New Wave directors. It’s also the prelude to the eventual creation of 2, Simple Kid’s sophomore album, which was released just over a year ago.

“The hardest thing for me to do was actually getting the equipment out of storage. It was this mental ghost in my closet and I couldn’t bring myself to go there and start setting everything up again. What initially started out as a time-out became a two year break. It was nice to have those years off, just existing. Everything had imploded and it was a bad scene at the time of taking the break, so I wanted to get away from it. I worked in a video store next to my place and I wasn’t sure if I would even come back to music.

“I was looking at doing something else, but I tricked myself into writing again. I met with my manager for a pint and told him I had a load of songs written, which was bulls**t. Then I got a call in the next few days from my manager telling me he had booked some studio time. So I had to go to the storage room and get everything out and switched on and just start writing.”