By Tony Norman

They say there's a twin out there for everyone. That's disappointing for those of us who aren't in a hurry to encounter a previously unknown twin at the crossroads of a busy airport for reasons of vanity and superstition. The fear of running into a clone who happens to have a more successful life has got to be primordial.

What's more interesting are folks who aren't look-a-likes but are stuck with the same name. A long time ago, a clerk at Caliban Books in Oakland gave me an out-of-print pulp novel by an author named Tony Norman that I've long since misplaced, unfortunately. I can't remember what the paperback was called, but it was a none-too-sexy potboiler with a lurid cover featuring a half-naked woman and a gun. It was my first indication that there were other Tony Normans in the world.

In December, a Tony Norman who is a musician and ex-journalist in England sent an e-mail politely informing me that he'd registered the Internet domain name "TonyNorman.com." He felt duty-bound to inform the only other Tony Norman with a sizeable presence in cyberspace.

I didn't mind. As the only working journalist in America who doesn't blog or maintain a rarely visited web site, I don't anticipate needing a domain name, anyway. Still, I appreciated Tony Norman's straightforwardness. True to cultural stereotype, the British Tony Norman is so much more considerate than his American counterpart.

It didn't take us long to strike up an acquaintance based on mutual fascination. Tony pointed out striking similarities in the trajectory of our careers he gleaned from visiting the Post-Gazette web site. Having a conversation in cyberspace with someone with the same name who didn't have a similar paper trail for me to follow felt like a plot contrivance out of Italo Calvino or one of Borges' short stories.

Tony Norman had me at a disadvantage until the promo of the album he was about to release in the UK arrived at my mailbox. Until I saw his face on the cover of "In Blue," I had no idea what he looked like.

The monochromatic blue on the CD's cover makes Tony look like James "Tony Soprano" Gandolfini crossed with Phil Collins. His eyes are pensive, as if harboring enough secrets to fill a dozen albums. The hands clutching the miniature bongo drum on the cover are huge, revealing the long tapered fingers of a classical guitarist.

The songs paint a deeply melodic and heartfelt picture of the roads Tony Norman is traveling these days. Singing with a husky whisper reminiscent of post-Dire Straits Mark Knopfler, he doesn't shy from opening a vein for the listener with lyrics steeped in poetic yearning and regret.

Some songs are bathed in a Spanish ambiance or tinged with a world beat soulfulness usually heard on middle period Sting or late Paul Simon. The vocals by backup singers Mary Prentice and Liane Carroll are superb and provide the emotional colors Tony couldn't reach without them. If Robbie Robertson, the former leader of the Band, was capable of consistently hitting notes, he'd sound like Tony Norman.

It was a relief to find that someone with my name was capable of recording and releasing 10 original songs that were as good as anything found on adult contemporary radio.

"When I left school in the '60s in London, my entire focus was in being a journalist," the 57-year-old said. "I got a job on Fleet Street and initially did a lot of mundane stuff like making coffees and working my way up the ladder." Norman's story sounded absurdly familiar. If not for the 12-year age difference, it was as if I had a twin.

At the height of his career as a rock scribe, Tony Norman interviewed the Beatles and Jimi Hendrix and scored one-on-ones with the Who, Randy Newman and Harry Nilsson for New Musical Express and other publications. His paper flew him to America to review a Van Morrison show at the Filmore East once. He was also pals with Marc Bolan of T-Rex.

"I never interviewed Dylan," he said wistfully. "He was very elusive. Very few of us ever managed to get to him." It was relief to find that I wasn't the only Tony Norman to strike out with the Tambourine Man.

When he turned 50, Norman decided it was time to get serious about his music. "It wasn't easy," he said of his decision to leave journalism, "but I've managed to establish myself in a number of different fields writing for children and a number of musical projects. It's been tremendously rewarding.

"Before I got in touch with you, I was thinking: Where on Earth do you start in this great, big world to let people know that on this small independent label on the South Coast [of England], there's this album by this guy who maybe people would enjoy the songs if they get the chance to listen to it."

"So I was sitting there feeling overwhelmed when I thought, be positive. What should [my] ultimate goal be? My dream has always been to have some creative success in America." I assured him that it was my goal, too.

"I went to the Internet to see if there are any other singers named Tony Norman, so I put the name through Google and you came up," he said. I apologized for not being competition he could've relished beating, but I hadn't sung in public since a wedding reception I almost ruined in Canada in 1987.

Sitting in his home in Eastbourne, 70 miles south of London, across the channel from France, Tony Norman is eager for Americans to hear his music.