Watt |
[Sep. 15th, 2014|10:17 pm] |
"Art's there to prove we're still alive, so go down swinging" Back in 89, they were drunk on Guinness and I was moaning with the shits. They could hardly stand, and were out of tune and it was midnight just off a midland's council estate three hours from home with a 6AM start the next day. Somewhere, somehow, they found it (posture built from the vibrating floor up), and we were leaping about like blessed animals - bass moving like a heart: a giant heart with econo poetry lacing it together, and drums a spring brook and a clap of thunder:
Two years later he sits down next to us with a broken leg: Us being Me and my brother - still kids really, and I whip out my cassette player and he shares us two hours - near tears: "Hell, man D Boon would have loved it - talking to two young dudes with flannels" Two days later, at a great old London hall, he sticks his fist in the air and quotes me - a kid from the sticks.
Here he was at 44 a while back a stop sign
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