"I'm on tour – I'm playing in Wolverhampton tomorrow in the suburbs," he says. Our conversation is punctuation with the odd "Excuse me," and "thank you." But all this is relevant - the train journeys, the politeness and the humble apologies all sum up what Martin Stephenson's about – a decorous, self-effacing musician, more content in a village hall than a city stadium.

This tour marks the release of Stephenson's latest release – High 7 Moon 5, a roots, country, folk album featuring various artists including Helen McCookerybook – an old friend of Martin's whom he describes as sounding like 'the Undertones with Doris Day singing.'

But it was with eighties band The Daintees that Stephenson carved out his career in music. Throughout the eighties the band toured extensively, playing venues across the country including Manchester's Hacienda night club while securing a healthy income. But this, Stephenson says, created a 'cocoon' – a lifestyle surrounded by people hooked on big incomes and success.

"We were just four guys with a consciousness of the band but not into fame. I'd never experienced anything like (the music industry] – a cocoon develops, people get used to the money. The intelligent thing to do is to get out – and I started working on that early."

"Some people want (to be cocooned] but it used to make me feel a bit ill."

So Stephenson – 47 this year, turned his back on the industry and moved to the Scottish Highlands – it was no shrewd career move but it suited Stephenson's philosophical outlook, an outlook in which he believes one should take control and not be a slave to 'the system'.

"If you imagine your head's an Apple Mac, within that head you've got memory, a filing system and a consciousness expanding beyond the head. You can operate within the system in the box or you can operate the entire system from out of the box – on a higher level."

"It's about what's here and now and doing things out of love than need."

Based on this philosophy, he wrote a Yogi in my House for his daughter. "She was so open and chatty until she started school and then she started to close up. You have to let them know you're there."

Musically Stephenson has a similar philosophy, inherited by his friend and fellow musician 'Gypsy' Dave. "He's phenomenal – he taught me to forget everything you learn and just play. It's like the difference between being able to draw and just drawing."

This seemingly haphazard approach defies the aesthetic of Stephenson's broad-ranging musical repertoire. From smoky-tinged jazz to melodic folk, Stephenson's sound is marked by intricacy and musical cohesion.

Stephenson has no desire to appeal to the mainstream, nor fall into the arms of the media: "The press creates what it likes (in terms of music] – if your face doesn't fit you're out and if you're a nice person you're not cool. I never wanted to be in that," he says.

Rather, Stephenson is happy playing smaller (though by no means insignificant) venues. Throughout his career he has supported various artists including folk guitarist John Martyn.

"(John Martyn] has massive hands, and he'd play these big, heavy strings like a bear. He was battling with a cocaine and alcohol addiction but he also had a very creative spirit. I was only 23 at the time but touring with John scared the life out of me. There was fist fighting and it felt like I was walking on eggshells."

Before his music career kicked off Stephenson was a carpet fitter, furniture salesman and delivery man, "but the last time I had a job was when I was 19. I spent a couple of years busking and then I went professional."

It was punk that turned Stephenson into a budding musician. "When punk came out felt like you had your own music – it was like folk music (in that way]. In another five years time there's going to be pensioners listening to the Sex Pistols, "he laughs.

Martin Stephenson plays at the Boardwalk on Sunday July 20

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