You often hear loose talk about the merits of 'real music' played on 'real instruments' by 'real people'. It's almost become a cliché now, but this seemingly bald statement brandishes a sharp little sword of truth. Personally speaking, by way of example, I prefer air to air conditioning. The most important point of the original statement, however, is the bit about 'real people', which is where Steve Wilson comes in. A proper dyed-in-the-wool gentleman with an all-encompassing heart, it's inevitable that he'd end up writing real songs, and that real people would want to play them and listen to them.
The integrity, quiet passion and gentle nature of his songs are all innate. They go with the territory, in the same modest but endlessly satisfying way that night follows day. They are all balm for the proverbially restless spirit and food for the seriously starved soul, crafted with rare care using, well, 'real' materials - love, loss, redemption and guitars. In the end, it's really all about the essential 'heart' I mentioned earlier. Some may scoff at this notion; but you won't get very far without one.