It was a perfect summer’s day when Joe Nally’s world was ripped apart. Having recently relocated, along with the rest of his immediate family, from the bustling metropolis of London to the relative tranquility of England’s south coast, the Urne frontman had begun to allow himself to look forward to the years ahead. But a single afternoon around the kitchen table knocked his focus onto suffering, death, and the infinite emptiness that follows. “I remember the moment so clearly,” Joe rubs his brow. “The whole family had come round to the house and we were just sitting there, having a nice cup of tea, when it was like, ‘Look, we’ve got something to tell you…’ When you’re talking to people who’re 60-odd, that’s never good. You get the horrible feeling – if you know it, yo...