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In the early days of the folk revival, he was a member of the Galliards with whom he made numerous radio and TV broadcasts and concert appearances. He started writing songs seriously (and humorously) in the early 1960s and hasn't stopped yet. His early songs were topical-satirical (some of them were featured on TV's satire show That Was The Week That Was) but he broadened out from there, absorbing different influences, from Music Hall to French Realist Song, and experimenting with different song forms.

JAMES YORKSTON

‘James Yorkston showed just how entertaining an endearing singer/songwriter can be, Each of Yorkston’s tracks was greeted with hushed reverence by the crowd, who hung on to his every utterance as if it were his last. He’s an unassuming, funny and frankly huggable character, touting emotional and unashamedly pretty folk music that buckles at the knees occasionally but is held firm by the strength of the melody.’ The Scotsman

‘Champion Kickboxer have an unceasingly inventive take on the indie pop song. There are Brian Wilson-esque vocal melodies dripping out of every corner, impossibly high and beautiful crystalline guitar parts trickling out and an unnerving sense of the unusual and arresting rearing it's ugly head on a regular basis.’ Tasty Fanzine

WINTER NORTH ATLANTIC

‘Five gentle collisions of reverb, acoustics, blips and beats that like a fairy tale, warm your cockles, and then without warning, reveals a goulish heart and send a shiver up your spine. It's smokey and oakey in a way reminiscent of Four Tet and Andy Votel of Twisted Nerve.’ Sandman

DAVID THOMAS BROUGHTON

Part-improviser, part spectral folk-singer, David plays his own unique blend of off-kilter music. Using looped guitars and vocals and with the addition of a drum machine, he creates, as The Guardian put it, 'layer upon layer of musical quality'.

THE BIG EYES FAMILY PLAYERS

"Woozy Gypsy laments for sleepwalkers, the perfect theme to a remake of The Third Man, an almost lo-fi gauzy indie-folk pop squeezing sunshine out of eternity through acts of melodic compassion. Lots of old string-led European sorrow, nocturnal jazz grooves, a dash of discordant angst, and some surrealistic lullabies slowly passing like elevated Fahey extrapolations meandering down a glacial riverbed. Some haunted hallucinatory personal folk songs, and an expansive sense of mystery, of something only partially revealed, perhaps glimpsed only in passing" [George Parsons, Dream Magazine]