We get a lot of music sent our way. Tapes, CDs, digital files… most of it’s a carbon copy of a carbon copy. But the tracks we heard from Ker’s upcoming Converging Paths (penciled in for 2026, so don’t hold your breath) felt like they’d been dug out of a time capsule. This is big, ambitious, thoughtful stuff. The kind of music that defined the ’70s.
Turns out, there’s a good reason. Ker’s musical story starts back when it mattered. We’re talking about a kid in Scotland, hearing Elvis’ “Don’t Be Cruel” on a 78rpm disc and immediately joining the UK fan club. This wasn’t just casual listening – this was the kind of devotion that had him signing off letters with “Elvisly Yours.” He was there, a face in the crowd at Edinburgh airport in ’66, just to see The Beatles land. His record collection was stacked with the essentials—Hendrix, Dylan, Young—but his real church, the music that truly shaped him, was the grand, sprawling sound of British prog-rock. His heart, he’ll tell you, belongs to the intricate, atmospheric tapestries of Yes and Pink Floyd.
And then, like for so many, the music biz didn’t call. Life did. Ker’s path swerved hard, not into an opening slot at the Marquee Club, but into marketing. Decades of it. He learned the “jargon” and “process,” a long detour in a world of suits and strategies, all while the prog-rock anthems he should have been writing stayed silent. The music, it seemed, was fated to be a private passion, a stack of records from a life left behind.
Fast forward to 2014. Ker, on a trip to Kalispell, Montana (no, we don’t know why either), walks into a music shop. A guitar is bought. A switch is flicked. But this wasn’t just a mid-life crisis purchase. He fell in with a community of local musicians, a crew who, as he puts it, “helped me learn to play guitar, write songs and perform these.” This wasn’t a solo act. As a mark of appreciation, he wrote three country songs for the people who had shown him the way. But that opened the floodgates. After a lifetime on the sidelines, Ker was finally in the game.
He didn’t just noodle, either. Back in Scotland, he got serious. He built a studio in his garden, a creative sanctuary, giving himself the time and space to develop melodies. He took up the piano. He started working with a teacher, not just to play, but to understand—to establish the notation for his songs, to get a far deeper understanding of the theory of music. This is the dedication of an audiophile, the sound of a man making up for lost time.
This dedication is most clear in the songwriting itself. Ker’s crafting fully-formed songs built on compelling topics and engaging lyrics. He aims for themes that feel personal but speak to a wider, universal experience. In a smart nod to his past career, he also thinks strategically, even working backwards from a title he knows will attract interest. It’s the perfect merge of the marketing man and the musician.
The first single, “Wondering on Giants” (due Dec 1st), is a hell of an introduction. This is a big, ‘headphones-on, lights-off’ kind of track. Ker describes it as a timeless contest between man, mountains, and the tempest, and it sounds every bit as epic as that. The song immediately evokes a sense of place, with lyrics about rocks and boulders lacing the hills that make you practically feel the Scottish mist rolling in over the faders. It’s got all the atmosphere of early Floyd, a real builder of a song that taps into the magnetic, primal pull of nature.
We heard another cut, “There Are No Words,“ which shows off his clever lyrical touch. It’s a love song that masterfully avoids ever using the L-word. Instead, it tells a simple story of a melody that comes to him on a walk, one he hurries back to write down. The song’s payoff isn’t a big, cheesy chorus, but a quiet, intimate moment where the song is shared, and the only response needed is a smile. It’s sweet, but not saccharine. It feels real.
The album title, Converging Paths, says it all. This is where the marketing man meets the musician. Where the ’70s prog fan meets the modern studio. Where the Scottish hills meet the Montana plains. Ker’s goal, he says, is to make you feel uplifted, nourished, and eager to hear more.
Look, this isn’t music for a quick fix. You’re not going to hear it between a toothpaste ad and the weather. Converging Paths is an album to be listened to, a complete statement from a man who’s waited a lifetime to make it.
Start the countdown now.
