I recently got back from a tour of Italy, playing my own music accompanied by a wonderful dancer and video artist called Isobel Blank (she did the video to Banks Of Kyoto off my last record). Having someone else with me made me enjoy playing so much more, and it was both mesmerising and relaxing to watch her move as I played. I encountered nothing but kindness and hospitality wherever I went, so sincere thanks to all that helped us. The high points were a moonlit swim in a crystal clear lake, and making friends with 9 cats on farm in the mountains; the low point was sweeping and mopping the filthy floor of a Bolognese squat where for some reason we had been asked to play on what would have been our only day off, only for the show to be canceled due to lack of promotion. And yet even this was somehow a joyous experience.

Brett Anderson's record was finished in a 2 week flurry of activity; we managed to record woodwind and cello on 13 tracks in a single day, and fortunately we found that in the course of writing the material, a lot of the vocals and guitars could be kept. So it was more a case of polishing up what we already had than of starting again. His combination of a keen critical ear with the willingness to experiment made the experience a pleasure. The pressure of producing comes from the fact that you are effectively in charge of someone else's artistic statement, and no matter how seriously and lovingly you approach it, for the person whose name goes on the sleeve, it carries a much greater sense of importance. The trick to making an honest and interesting recording is, I think, is to keep a serious-but-lighthearted atmosphere of openness and experimentation, with little overt consideration of the consequences. Brett was very open to this and I do think we have made an honest, interesting record.

I played in a Nick Drake tribute concert this month, with guest singers ranging from Martha Wainwright to Graham Coxon doing versions of the great man's songs, under the guidance of Drake's original producer Joe Boyd. We also had the original arranger Robert Kirby, and for me it was a particualr joy to hear that incredible string  writing come to life before my eyes and ears. Neill Macoll took care of all Nick's parts (I can't think of a single other guitarist who could have done as good a job as him), which left me free to cruise around in ambient land trying not to get in anyone's way.

Hearing Robert Kirby at work definitely inspired me in the string arranging work I did this month, even though it was for very different artists - Paloma Faith and Taio Cruz. The latter is kind of R&B which is a total departure for me, and to be honest not the kind of thing I would normally listen to but there was something about it that was incredibly emotional and that made arranging the strings (frequently employed as musical tear-duct stimulators) quite an intense undertaking. It was also my first foray into doing the scores on computer instead of by hand. I do have to admit that it's quicker, but there's not quite as much poetry in the process, and it doesn't look as beautiful. I'm not sure what the ultimate effect of a beautiful handwritten score is on the end musical result, but it's a bit like wearing particularly high-quality underwear I think - not many other people know that it's there, but it lends an exquisite quality to the day. Plus the musicians always love it (the handwritten scores, not the underwear).

There were a couple of radio shows in Paris with Marianne Faithfull, and a bunch of sessions for Brigitte Fontaine and a famous woman who is trying to make part of her next album without the record company realising, so no further comment there. I also played on an advert (rare occurrence) for a huge American hardware store. They really went all-out on the music: coming to London, getting a huge studio and bringing lots of creative people from the agency over. One of them brought his young son who asked me to autograph his plectrum, which I found incredibly sweet. It was, frankly, reassuring to see so much money sloshing happily around at a time like this and also interesting to see how, musically, it was every bit as serious as a session for an actual album. Also odd screwing around with obscure 60s Italian guitars and making little delay loops, whilst staring at a screen full of DIY equipment... but it was another 'I love my job' moment.