driving down the old highway

the car against the road is the low hum of the strings

the cars rushing past are cymbals and tambourines

the winds blowing in my windows are flutes and piccolos

the rattles in the car are the snares and castanets

the cicadas in the trees are the white noise of one million stratocasters

the cars blow their horns

the tyres drum on the bitumen

in my head the music goes round

the busted a.c. is a leslie cabinet

the australian sun is a spotlight

the blue sky a vast curtain

the miles are my songs

the years are my band

the long long years

it is australia any year

summer this is my 57th summer

the bell birds are xylophones and glocks

suddenly my extended metaphor tires me

my golden the falcon sings so smoothly though

my heart a bass drum bump bomp

my cough is reedy and percussive

my pulse is in 4/4 time

four on the flaw

i accelerate through space

i move constantly through time

i groove on my train of thought

some weird station has a weird show on weird music

such and such a composer exploring dissonance

dissonance is that a latinate word for racket?

i’m working on the  film score in my head

i start to question my values on music

some pieces on the weird show are a racket

and some of them are actually much more than that

but i can’t understand the appeal of the racket anymore

tho i once told my self i was across a decent racket

maybe i was fooling whoever i dreamed i was

i am nothing fixed

although i drift towards a purer position

with music i mean

simplicity melody

the recombination of a thousand tiny tricks

i follow hunches

i listen to instinct

the very first thing you think of is often the best *

all the time

my lazy easy way of doing things

if you try you’ve already lost

it just has to come easy

easy come and easy go

like life itself

never grasp at it too hard

i made that mistake

i wanted everything at once

it was unobtainable to me at 16

i wanted it all and i tried n i tried

playing the bass was the easiest bit

i was up and running in no time

i mean you don’t have to mozart to go bang bong bong on a bass

so what… i was another contender making a row in a garage

i met some truly gifted players like dave scotland and dave young

young brilliant guitarists who could have gone all the way imhfo

of course peter koppes of whom it is hard to imagine

a time when he was not accomplished on a load of instruments

his understanding of music is that of an absolute master

his playing is filled with restrained power and melodic grace

his sound is vast and distant

sometimes its hard to understand what he is actually doing

to his apollo is martys dionysus

more abrasive more metallic more inflaming

thus they interweave both being ying and yang at anyone time

well that is today for you

the girls and i  received some very nice gifts too

and i’m eating a bit of a gift now

but not looking gift horses in their mouths

i am grateful

australia is a nice nice place

i like my car i really do

it seems to purr

i drive on and out of sight

roll credits

 

* conditions apply