Stevie Martin claims that the name he’s chosen to make music under serves exactly the same purpose as “a well-known wood protector: It does what it says on the tin.”

And you can see his point. The songs he’s written as Rainy Boy Sleep aren’t going to lift the roof off any party houses, nor are they going to light the way at the head of a revolution. His act isn’t one suited to chest-beating layers of rhetorical varnish.
No, Stevie’s weepy, heart-on-the-sleeve ballads are designed for one purpose and one purpose only: to connect with an audience.
“Someone said to me once, that if I was able to write one song that touched one other person, then I’d done my job,” he says. “And that’s exactly what I think.”
That said, you also suspect that Stevie’s ambitions may be a little more expansionist than he lets on. Certainly, his songs have a widescreen appeal that could attract a huge audience. And there’s a refreshing lack of pretension to his approach – an everyman attitude that goes some way to explaining why he dropped out of art college after a mere two months.
“It just wasn’t for me,” he says. “It struck me very quickly that there was a side of the art world where what you could say about your work was more important than producing the work itself. That’s not what I wanted. I’ve always loved the idea of having an aesthetic. I think visual art should look pretty. I think music should sound pretty. I want to write beautiful songs.”
Prolonged exposure to Rainy Boy Sleep suggests that the influence of a certain brooding Dublin troubadour exerts a strong creative pull on Stevie. It’s a fair cop, he admits.
“When I was at school I wanted to be Damien Rice,” he laughs. “I was obsessed with that record. I was still at school when it came out and it broke the mould.
“Like everyone else, I was into heavy metal – stuff like that. But O was something from the grown-up world."
Stevie talks about the artisan aspects of his songwriting: the hard work and its practical end. However, the sensibility that drew him initially to art school hasn’t been entirely buried. He has taken an active hand in the production of all his music to date, and it’s here where he stretches and contorts his material beyond the boy-busker/big music archetypes.
“It’s an area I’m getting more and more obsessed with. I’m listening to records in a new way now. I mean I really love Plans by Deathcab For Cutie. I’ve picked apart every detail and nuance. It’s so dreamy, so ethereal. It really does carry you away. It’s an inspiration. There are definitely a few little tricks that I’ve picked up from it that I’ll use on my record.”
Ah, his record. Stevie plans to record the Rainy Boy Sleep debut later in the summer. A producer is about to be chosen, a studio has been booked, and songs have been written. Safe to say, he’s ready to blast out of the blocks.
“I can’t wait,” he says, “I’ve a short list of tunes that needs to get shorter. It’s about getting the details right. I think it deserves a studio rather than to be dragged around various bedroom across the land. I want to do it properly. I also don’t want to draw things out for too long. Keep it spontaneous and fresh and then get out of there for the good of my sanity.”
Stevie is part of a rare flowering of talent in Derry at the moment. My Krypton Son, Conor Mason and The Wonder Villains are some of the acts producing brilliant work – all of which suggests we’ll have some incredible home-grown gigs during next year’s UK Capital of Culture shindig.
“It’s very exciting,” says Stevie. “I think generally, it’s just a great time to live in the city. It’s such a beautiful place. I walked into town the other night – down along the Peace Bridge – and into Sandinos. Watched a couple of great bands. It’s all coming together. I’m very happy in Derry. It’s getting better and better.”