In this episode, I ramble through two days spent at the Albion Rooms in Margate with Max and a band of beautiful scoundrels. I talk vampires in the studio, ghosts in the attic, and how — whether I'm shooting musicians, streets, or strangers — my photography approach never really changes. Same eye. Same mischief. Same hunt for the raw bits nobody else sees.

You'll hear stories of bacon sarnies that saved my soul, studio lulls that stretch forever, and how street instincts creep into every backstage frame. Also: a tiny glimpse at the documentary I've been accidentally shooting for six years.

Mentions:

Max’s haunting new tunes
Charlie Buford’s upcoming album
Z.Z. Top refusing to be on a schedule
The weird magic of Margate streets (and cafés that smell like old dreams)

Takeaway:
It doesn’t matter if I’m in a dingy alley or a velvet-draped studio — the hunt is the same. The mischief is the same. That’s the real thrill of photography.