The first note is a gentle nudge, and before you know it, you’re completely inside the song. That’s the feeling you get with “Wōndering on Giants”. It leans on the frame, gives you a nod, and says, “Hey, come take a look at this view.” That’s Ker, when he’s making music. Real name Barry G.K. Thomson. And this track is not only a nod to his Scottish roots. But a little beacon that says, yes, the album coming later in 2026, “Converging Paths,” is going to be worth your time.
Ker spent years in marketing, which is basically a world made of PowerPoints, buzzwords, and endless meetings. Not exactly the most romantic training ground for songwriting. But then, in 2014, he wandered into a music store in Kalispell, Montana. One guitar in his hands later, and something clicked. You can hear that “Big Sky” Montana openness rubbing up against the rugged edges of the UK in his sound. He’s trying to write something that sticks in your chest, something that feels real.
“Wōndering on Giants” is like standing at the bottom of something enormous. Mountains, yes, but also life itself. There’s this warmth in the mix, the Hammond organ, Rhodes piano, acoustic guitar, that hugs you without asking. It nods at prog-rock giants like Pink Floyd and Yes, the bands he grew up with, but it’s not a retro pastiche. It’s alive. Steady. You can almost feel the peaks rising and falling with the rhythm, and there’s room to breathe.
Ker has already hinted that this is just the start. We’ll get “There Are No Words” and “Lofty Thoughts” very soon, and hearing them early, I can tell you they reveal something softer, quieter. “Lofty Thoughts” is about all those little things we hoard—the crumpled letters, old receipts, the weird little mementos of life. We keep them even when we’re not sure why. The song doesn’t explain, it just… lets you feel it.
Then there’s “There Are No Words.” Funny thing is, it’s a love song that never actually says “love.” Ker says the melody just appeared while he was walking down a road, and he had to run home to catch it before it vanished. That’s Ker’s magic: personal, but not clingy. Intimate, but not confining.
Looking ahead to 2026, Ker is in no rush. After January, more tracks follow through spring and summer. He’s studying theory, working with a piano teacher, making sure every detail is right. He’s crafting this like a carpenter building a chair. You notice the care in the joints, the smoothness of the wood. By the time the full 13-track album arrives, it’ll be a crafted, immersive world.
Ker indeed shows that melody and feeling still matter. His songs connect the personal with the epic, the everyday with the infinite. By the time “Converging Paths” arrives, we’ll have a map of his musical world. But for now, “Wōndering on Giants” is the perfect place to start.
The most profound things are quiet. The song you hum to yourself when no one’s around, the memory you can’t bring yourself to throw away. It takes courage to pull those moments out of the attic and share them. It’s comforting to know someone is making music that tells us that our memories, the little things we cling to, aren’t clutter. They’re what keep us standing tall.
Song link: https://open.spotify.com/track/6o65sCX9TxFgSv0zE8jVLz