It’s all Pete Doherty’s fault. No, it’s down to Red Hot Chili Peppers. Or do we finger Fran Healy of Travis? Nah, sod it, let’s blame Ewan McGregor and Jake Gyllenhaal. They’re movie stars, proper ones. They’re used to shouldering serious responsibility.  If it weren’t for these artists, Amy Macdonald wouldn’t be the teen-sensation singer-songwriter she is now. She’d still be kicking round Glasgow, an undergraduate at university, studying social sciences with an emphasis on geography. The highlight of her year would continue to be her annual pilgrimage to T In The Park, whereat she and her mates would party under canvas for 48 hours, forget their own names, and maybe see some bands. Amy Macdonald would still be a nobody, instead of a somebody out of whom great songs just flood. Amy was 12 when her world wobbled on its axis. She was on a family outing to Rothesay on Scotland’s west coast. Her gran gave her some money to treat herself. Instead of buying a tenner’s worth of ice-cream she bought a CD: The Man Who by Travis. It was the first album Amy ever owned. She was blown away: simple songs (Driftwood, Why Does It Always Rain On Me?, Writing To Reach You), sung brilliantly, roaring powerfully in her ears and in her head.

Jersey Girl Lauren Ianuzzi likes to play with matches and start fires. Good news! She can take the heat. Lauren’s songwriting and unique vocal style reveal what she and most girls think about relationships and boys, but not rarely ever say. With tight clothes, flashy earrings and curls for days, Ianuzzi’s spontaneous and sexy personality match her soul and funk driven music. continue reading...