In September 2026, I released Clouds—my very first album, featuring eight covers and one original song. Every song on this album has a story. This is where I share what each piece means to me, why I chose it, and the moments, places and feelings that found their way into the music.
Welcome to the stories behind Clouds.
Behind the Music
Clouds
Clouds seemed like the perfect title for an album filled with songs that either make reference to clouds or reflect the ever-changing emotions we experience in life. Like clouds, our feelings can hold many moods - constantly shifting, evolving, and transforming before our very eyes.
Most of this album was arranged and recorded in the space of just a few weeks in May and June 2026. I found myself in an unexpected burst of motivation, creativity and feeling, and suddenly these songs needed somewhere to go. Music became the place I could put all of it. Each piece holds a story, a mood, a place and a particular moment in my life. Together, they became a journey through joy, longing, hope, love and sadness.
I hope that as you listen, you feel as though you're travelling alongside me through some of those moments. And perhaps, in hearing some of what I've felt, you might recognise a little of yourself, and be reminded that, whatever season you're moving through, no one is ever really alone.
1. Nuvole Bianche (White Clouds) - Ludovico Einaudi
In 2016, I saw a devastating Facebook post from a friend saying that his 18 year old daughter, Lizzie, had been in a car accident, broken her back and was now in hospital. I had been through the experience of a broken back myself and felt that I wanted to help in whatever way I could, so I offered to visit her and play violin. Her father said she would love that and mentioned that her favourite music was Ludovico Einaudi, specifically Nuvole Bianche.
I had no idea who this composer was, but after looking him up, I fell in love. It was such a deeply haunting and beautiful piece, and I knew I wanted to play it for Lizzie.
I didn't have much time to learn it. I was babysitting my nieces and nephews at the time, and I remember sitting on the verandah of my Queenslander that Wednesday morning, the music blasting through my Bluetooth speaker as I listened and played along, while keeping an eye on the kids in the garden with my mum. It's a vivid memory that has stayed with me because I felt, in that moment, that I was doing exactly what I needed to be doing.
That afternoon, I drove to the hospital, met Lizzie, set down my speaker and played Nuvole Bianche for her. I figured it was going to sound a lot better if I played along with Ludovico himself! By the end of the piece, patients, family members, doctors, nurses and seemingly anyone who could walk, had gathered at the doorway of Lizzie's ward. The magic of the music had done it all. I ended up playing for a good 20 minutes, taking requests for songs I had never heard before, simply finding the tracks on youtube and playing along. It was a beautiful time of connection, love and joy in the midst of a place that held so much suffering. Consequently, Lizzie decided she wanted to learn the violin. Many years later, I have bumped into her at music festivals, where she is now "jamming along" with other musicians in between performing as an acrobat! Her back is very strong now!
Just one week after playing for Lizzie in hospital, I stayed at an Airbnb in Witta, where I met my hosts, Pauline and Wayne. Pauline later wrote a testimonial for me which says everything better than I could:
“I had the privilege of meeting Liz a couple of years ago. No doubt she thought it a little strange when I wanted to give her my father's old violin but I liked her instantly. She restrung the violin in the afternoon and in the evening came out onto the adjoining deck to play for us. The violin had probably not been played in sixty years. There is music and then there is music which releases embedded memory, intrinsic beauty and soul. This is the music that Liz plays.”
After taking out this beautiful old violin and playing just one song on it, Pauline and Wayne made a request: Nuvole Bianche. I was shocked.
Until the week before, when I had learnt it for Lizzie, no one had ever asked me to play this piece. And now, within the space of a week, there it was again. I didn't know it then, but this was only the beginning of something I would come to understand again and again: sometimes you learn one song for one person, only to discover that it was never going to be for just that one person. Music has a magical ripple effect. One song, learnt for one moment and one person, can somehow find its way into the lives of many, many more.
And now, one last part to the Nuvole Bianche story.
In 2020, a dear friend asked if she could commission me to arrange and record a piece as a birthday gift for a friend of hers. I knew he loved Ludovico Einaudi, and I had been looking for an excuse to finally record Nuvole Bianche, so I decided this was it. Of course, this was 2020, and with lockdowns happening frequently, learning how to record and mix my own music seemed like both a fun challenge and a pretty good use of all that unexpected time at home. My friend Chris had spent a week patiently teaching me, night after night, how to use Reaper - recording software I had never used before. So when this commission came along, it felt like the perfect opportunity to put everything he had taught me into practice. There was just one problem: I didn't have the proper recording interface I needed. So, in a rather ridiculous display of determination, I recorded around 150 individual takes onto my Zoom H5 microphone recorder, manually transferred every single one into Reaper on my computer, and then individually lined up each waveform to the milli-millimetre so that all those layers of violin played perfectly together. Haha. Lots of technical terms to basically say: it was quite the ordeal.
But I was determined, and after around 20 hours over two days, my multi-layered violin arrangement of Nuvole Bianche was finished. I then filmed a music video and uploaded it to YouTube so it could be shared as the birthday present.
What began as a recording for one person has since been heard by more than 111,000 people. It turns out my little arrangement of Nuvole, made entirely from layers and layers of violin, became rather popular!
And then, six years later, came Clouds. When the idea for this album first began, it actually didn't start with Nuvole Bianche at all. It started with Mid Air. But as I recorded more and more songs containing images, words and themes of clouds, I realised that "White Clouds" simply had to be part of it.
So I went back to my original 2020 recording to remix and edit it for the album. And I was horrified. Hidden amongst all those beautiful layers of violin were some rather enthusiastic noisy miner birds! That was the consequence of recording in my little old Queenslander, with the windows open beside a giant gum tree. Apparently the local wildlife had also contributed to my arrangement. So, just when I thought I had finished recording the album, I went right back to the beginning and re-recorded every part of Nuvole Bianche from scratch over another two days. But this time, I recorded it using my DPA microphone and recording interface, just as I had with every other song on the album. So in the end, those noisy miner birds may have done me a favour! Re-recording Nuvole meant that it was captured using the same microphone and recording setup as the rest of Clouds, giving the album a more consistent sound from beginning to end. This is the version you hear on Clouds. It is cleaner and newly recorded, but it was created with all the same love and care as that first version and absolutely inspired by it. After all these years, I love that this piece has found its way back to me once again.
So as you listen, perhaps do exactly what its title suggests.
Sit back. Look out your window.
And watch the ever-changing white clouds.
2. Sweet Disposition
In 2025, I was asked by a bride, Chelsea, to play at her wedding. She had chosen The Temper Trap’s Sweet Disposition for her walk down the aisle and had a very particular sound in mind. She sent me around ten different string versions of the song, but neither of us was completely happy with any of them. And when I couldn’t find a backing track that captured what she was looking for either, I decided there was really only one thing to do: I would make my own. As I began arranging and recording it, I constantly checked in with Chelsea to make sure I was on the right track and capturing the magic she had imagined. Eventually, it was finished. I have to say, when her wedding day arrived and I stood there playing violin along with the recording I had created, watching Chelsea walk down the aisle through the garden of her home, I became quite emotional. There it was - the magical version she had always wanted, but which simply hadn’t existed until we met. I’m so glad our paths crossed, because that arrangement didn’t end with Chelsea’s wedding. I have since used it in many of my own videos and advertisements, and it has become a piece of music that I really love playing.
Clouds come in so many different forms - some dramatic and heavy, some soft and still, some constantly changing, and others light enough to almost disappear into the sky. I think the songs on this album are a little like that too, each carrying a different feeling and moment in time. Sweet Disposition feels like one of the lighter clouds to me - hopeful, bright and full of possibility. It carries that wonderful anticipation of something beautiful just beginning, when you don’t quite know what lies ahead, but for that moment, everything feels right.
3. West
For more than ten years, I have travelled west to Blackall to visit my beautiful friends Phil and Ricci Walker and their family. Those twelve-hour drives became very familiar to me - sparse bushland, long straight roads and seemingly endless golden skies. The Walkers’ property is called Westhill, about a thirty-minute drive outside Blackall.
Ricci was a beloved wife, mother and grandmother, and a very dear friend of mine. In the 2020 Lockdowns, she was also one of the biggest supporters of my LizzieLand online shows. In fact, LizzieLand was first created for Ricci’s grandchildren, before growing to reach other children in the wider community. What began as a way of bringing some music and joy to those kids eventually grew into something much bigger than I could have imagined.
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Those memories became even more precious when Ricci passed away unexpectedly in 2024. When I heard the devastating news, I was immediately overwhelmed by the desire to create something that would honour her, the place she lived, and the God she loved. Over two days, I wrote and recorded West - the only original composition on Clouds. When Phil heard the finished piece, he smiled at the title and said, “Well, West couldn’t be a more appropriate title, because no one has discovered the hill yet at Westhill.” 😂
The image accompanying this story is a photograph I took in 2022 from the old railway at Westhill. I kept returning to that image as I wrote and recorded the music. The rolling, continuous piano line that begins the piece represents the vast landscape of the outback - stretching on and on towards the horizon. As the violin parts gradually enter, I imagined the sun rising or setting over that landscape, filling the sky with gold. To me, those moments have always felt like one of the closest glimpses we get of heaven. The melody carries a sense of hope and peace - knowing that Ricci is with God, and that He continues to watch over the family she loved at Westhill.
I would love for people to listen to West as they make their own journey out there - through those long stretches of road and beneath those enormous skies, and let their minds wander beyond what they can see.
To the people they love.
To heaven.
To whatever might lie beyond.
Perhaps somewhere on a long road beneath a golden western sky, West can become part of someone else’s story too.
4. Hallelujah
Some melodies simply speak for themselves, and I think Hallelujah is one of them. Leonard Cohen had an extraordinary gift for words and melody, and with this arrangement I wanted to let that beautiful melody do the talking. More than anything, I hope you can hear the voice of the violin as I play it - almost as though it is singing the words for you.
Hallelujah would easily be among the top five most requested songs at my live shows, so it has become a piece I have played countless times and know very intimately. For many years, I have performed it live using a beautiful piano backing by Dietmar Steinhauer. When it came time to create my own version for Clouds, I wanted to capture some of the beauty and atmosphere I had always loved in his arrangement, while making this recording my own.
And perhaps Hallelujah belongs on an album called Clouds because there is something about it that makes us look upwards - beyond ourselves, towards something greater. It holds both the brokenness and beauty of being human, while somehow still reaching for something beyond it.
This is one of those pieces where the music can say far more than I can.
Close your eyes, listen to the violin sing, and enjoy.
5. Mid Air
I would highly recommend listening to Paul Buchanan’s original version of this song. When I first heard Mid Air back in April, I was immediately captured by the intimacy of his voice and the simplicity of the arrangement. There is something so understated about it, yet it carries an enormous amount of feeling. I became rather obsessed with the song. In fact, Mid Air is the reason this album exists. I wanted to see if I could capture that same intimacy on the violin - the feeling of floating, of being suspended somewhere between movement and stillness.
Once I had finished recording Mid Air, I decided that while I was in the mood, I should just keep going. Over the following month, another five songs were recorded, and what had begun as one little experiment gradually became Clouds.
When you listen to Mid Air, I wonder what you will hear in it. Will you be captured by that floating melody? Or perhaps by the yearning underneath it - that feeling of never quite arriving anywhere, of being suspended somewhere in between? Sometimes life doesn't give us the answers straight away. Sometimes we simply have to sit in that space for a while.
To wait.
To float.
And perhaps to discover that we are being held by something that feels like it isn't there at all - but actually is.
For me, that is where Clouds began.
6. Creep
I've been a massive Radiohead fan since around 2009, when I first heard Nude from their In Rainbows album. Strangely, I don't think I actually heard Creep until years later, but as it turns out, it's one of the all time favourites for so many people. I think deep down, most of us can resonate with that feeling of not quite fitting in, of somehow not being good enough. Maybe that's why this song has endured for so long. So when I play it, I feel like I'm playing it for all those people who have ever felt a little out of place.
Creep is the first of the darker clouds on this album - that uncertain kind where you look at the sky and wonder whether it will rain or simply pass. Ultimately, it carries those quieter feelings of insecurity, self-doubt and wondering whether we really belong - the things we don't always know how to say out loud.
This particular version is based on Brian Justin Crum's cover, which he performed on America's Got Talent in 2016. His utterly gut-wrenching take on the song captures exactly how I feel when I play it - vulnerable, aching, and almost painfully exposed.
I hope when you listen, you feel it too.
7. Hurt
This is definitely one of the darkest clouds on this album. I was going through some very dark and sad thoughts at the time, and Hurt felt like a way of expressing some of that deep pain. Interestingly, this is almost a cover of a cover of a cover. Hurt was originally written by Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails. Johnny Cash then recorded a heartbreaking version of it, and later 2Cellos created an instrumental version that somehow feels almost sadder again. My violin arrangement is heavily inspired by the notes of the 2Cellos version, but emotionally, it comes from Johnny Cash's. I recommend listening to his version if you haven't before, so that you know the words behind the melody when you hear me play it. But even if you don't, I'm hoping my soul speaks for itself.
Sometimes there are no words. Just hurt. And dark, dark clouds.
I think we should allow ourselves to go there sometimes. To actually feel it rather than immediately trying to escape it. Because sometimes the only way out is to go through.
8. The Sound of Silence
This song has also been a very popular request at my shows, usually from people who have heard Disturbed's version. My version is definitely based on theirs. The original Simon and Garfunkel song speaks about our inability to truly communicate and connect with one another: people talking without really speaking, hearing without really listening. I think there is something incredibly powerful about that idea, because sometimes the hardest silence isn't the absence of sound, it's the feeling of not being heard or understood.
Once again, I'm hoping that every note I play speaks my soul to you. After passing through the darkest clouds, sometimes what follows isn't immediately light. There's a misty numbness as you try to make sense of the sadness and eventually let it go. You've wanted answers. You've wanted to be heard. But sometimes, no answer comes.
Just silence.
And perhaps there is something to be found there too. Not an answer, necessarily, but a quiet place to simply sit for a while until the mist begins to lift.
9. Both Sides Now
Many of us know Joni Mitchell's original 1969 version of this poignant song. But have you heard her 2000 version, which was used in the movie Love Actually? My version is heavily based on this later one. Slower. Deeper. Very contemplative, and at times somewhat dissonant.
We get to a point in our lives where we realise that perhaps the fluffy clouds aren't quite as wonderful as they once seemed. We've seen a little more. Felt a little more. We know now that clouds can change. Originally, I was actually going to call this album Both Sides, because of this song and the idea seemed to fit. But as the album took shape, I started noticing how often clouds appeared throughout the songs and their stories. So I changed the title to Clouds, feeling rather pleased with myself for coming up with what I thought was a very clever idea.
The funny thing is that, while I am a HUGE Joni Mitchell fan, I had completely forgotten/didn't know that her second album - the one containing Both Sides Now - was called Clouds. It wasn't until my album was finished and I sat down to write these stories that I realised what I'd done. Somehow I had started with Both Sides, wandered off in search of my own title, and ended up right back at Joni's Clouds without even knowing it. Make of that what you will. To me, it feels strangely perfect.
I would love for this final song to pay tribute to Joni, one of the most phenomenal singer-songwriters. It was her music, and the way I related to her stories, that helped me through some darker times just before I began making this album. So you could say that without knowing it - and also completely knowing it - she helped me create Clouds. So I dedicate this final song to her and her beautifully profound lyrics, which have helped so many of us put words to the aches and yearnings of our hearts. There are, after all, both sides to life. And while this song leans into some of the sadder parts, I think I want to leave you leaning into the good. Be comforted knowing that you are not alone when you discover that the clouds aren't always white and fluffy.
We've travelled through all kinds of clouds together. We've floated among them, watched them gather and darken, passed through the storm, and waited in the mist as it began to lift. Maybe the point isn't to spend our lives searching for cloudless skies. Maybe it's to look at the clouds from both sides - and still find something beautiful in the sky, and something stronger within ourselves.
A Little About the Artwork
The cover of Clouds is an original charcoal drawing by the incredible Dany Avanzini, based on a portrait photograph taken for me by Hughie Doherty.
I have always adored Joan Baez, and I wanted the artwork for Clouds to carry a similar feeling to some of her album covers - something timeless, understated and deeply expressive. I loved the idea of using charcoal, with all its texture and softness, to capture the emotional world of the album.
Clouds holds a lot of deep thought and sadness for me, but there is also so much beauty within it. I think Dany has captured that balance perfectly. There is a softness and vulnerability in the drawing, but also a quiet strength that feels very much like the music on this album.
I hope you enjoy this beautiful, very real piece of art as much as I do. To me, Dany has completely captured the feeling of Clouds before you've even heard the first note.
Thank Yous
Thank you to everyone who helped me get to this point. There are some very dear friends and family who have been there for me over these last few months, and I’m incredibly grateful for every bit of encouragement and support.
But there is one person who has been constant, loving and patient through it all.
Mum. She listened to every draft. Every edit. Every tiny change. More reverb. Less reverb. No reverb. Then maybe a little more reverb again. Haha.
So thank you, Mum. For listening. For believing in me. For being there through every note and every tear. Let’s just hope the next album is seriously happy. White clouds only! 😅🤣