Colin Vearncombe - the artist formerly known as Black - hasn't had such a wonderful professional life in recent years. Although his work has been universally praised by those critics who have bothered to assess it, he has been all but ignored by the fashion gurus of the music press and the radio czars who control our supposedly mainstream airwaves. Bearing in mind his melancholy at the best of times image, one might expect the Liverpudlian to be a truly embittered man by this stage. But as he tours the country for a series of unplugged-style gigs showcasing The Accused - his first album for seven years on his own Nero Schwarz label - he is relaxed, confident and determined to overcome those hurdles which have been strewn across his path.
"The reason for the long break was that I really couldn't see a place for me in the business in the direction the business was going," he explains. "To get on Radio One these days, you've either got to be under 30 or a cartoon character. They're pitching at a 12-20 demographic and I can't listen to it for more than 20 seconds. They're trying to compete with local radio, which is a war they can't win, of course, because they're one station and local radio is everywhere. All the other stations are niche markets - lots of dance music, jazz, blah, blah, blah - and I don't conveniently fit into any of those categories; I fall between stools. If I had a pound for every time I've been told 'it doesn't fit our format' ...
"The rock press used to be more like listings magazines - giving you an idea of what was about so, if you were interested, you could go and check it out. But now it's much more editorial - the gospel according to that, often a very young, person writing it. But I wasn't exactly frustrated by not having hits because I really didn't enjoy being famous. I had to make the record that I would make if I was the only person in the world waiting for it to be finished, and that's what I did.
"It was a year after completion before it came out, because I didn't know what to do with it - didn't know what I wanted to do with it. But things fell into place, gradually, and because of that internally-applied pressure it's actually turned out to be the one that I've been able to live with the longest." Although Standard Life's decision to use his biggest hit as an advertising theme has provided him with "a kind of pension fund," Vearncombe has been forced to live within his means since parting company with A&M in the early 90s.
"It's difficult if you're a solo artist, because you can't exactly pile a bunch of people into the back of a Transit van and drag them round Britain on a promise," he says. "But working within budgetary restraints is never really a hindrance to any creative act, and I'm actually finding it's much more enjoyable. I like the hands-on bit of the operation"
While the major labels anxiously mull over the implications of internet- accessible music, Vearncombe is convinced that the new technology presents a great opportunity for him to communicate directly with the public. "This is a new industrial revolution we're undergoing," he says, "although not many people are discussing it in those terms. The big change will come when TVPC arrives, when Bored Housewife Of Bradford can dial up the net and surf around as easy as operating the remote control on the CD or the video. It will be a perfect opportunity for me to post music without it costing me anything."
It just happens to coincide with a period when the entire music industry is having to re-appraise their notion of the grass roots. "They've had it all their own way for 45 years, but they patently do not know what they're doing. They keep talking about longevity, and investing in artists, but the accountants are taking over and all they are interested in looking at is the bottom line. They fail to acknowledge that it is the new acts which are the lifeblood of the business and that they seed interest in all music."
Now hard at work at the follow-up to The Accused, which finds him in prime writing and singing form, Vearncombe is convinced that, despite all the industry handicaps, his time can come again. "We all sign deals too early and you're never really ready for it when it comes," he says. "But I haven't been a drug addict or an alcoholic, my social live has been fine for the last 10 years, and the bank balance looks OK. I've got 18 years experience and I'm at square two. "It's going to be hard, but I've a five-year plan and, by the end of that, I figure I should be a long way down the line of where I want to be - making records by my standards, when I want to make them, and playing live as much as I can."