this is the truth
i was pretty ropey
a week ago i was standin’ in the kitchen
strumming songs to nk as she cooked the dinner
and every now n then
id forget a chord or the words or both
inexplicably it would vanish from my mind
leaving me blank n empty
and nk would go
ooh
and i’d say no no
itll be allright on the night
and guess what….
it wasnt
i fucked n fumbled around
told funny n nonfunny anecdotes
i tried to just be myself
and quite frankly i was underwhelmed by me
and then every now n then
thru the tuning problems n amnesia problems
i would blast out a song
which was good enough to give me hope
but i was like a footy player having a bad day
the magic jus’ was not there
now the audience were lovely
about a hundred
lovely venue
lovely people
everything
matty d
jazz
the lot
and yet
why killer
im sitting here writing this for me
as well as you fiendss
and this aint a ploy to be all coy
so youll go
oh no stevie boy im sure you were good….!
no no it wasnt good
it was a shambolic bit of horsing around
as woulda done the lyneham high sk proud
afterwards the lovely promoter says
some songs you shouldnt maybe muck about in
this is hilarious
im almost 53 and people are still telling me not to muck about

whats fucking wrong with me?
why cant i be serious
why cant i knuckle down
sing the songs properly for the whole length
play right chords n notes
remember ye olde lyrics
and do it propply
now this is hard for fiendss from recent london show
to understand
there the killer ruled
and he pulverised himself against the music
and verily as olde as he was
did he rock!
but tonight…
im ashamed to be called the killer
i couldnt kill one semi crotchet
or nail a treble clef
but the people
like witnessing something alien
heres someone as confused as them
a bloke ballsing up and goofing off
honest almost unapologetically
its pathos/pathetic
its humour/mucking about
spontaneous/ unprofessional
its underdone malarkey n a real carryon
people came back n said
oh it was marvellous
what?
how could it be?
or is it?
i dunno
i cant be straight with myself even
such is the level of subtext in my mind
i dont know who i am
or what i will do
playing acc guitar n singing undoes me
im too used to bass
i cant adjust
and the wrong part of the brain
is thinking about the wrong things
everything collapses cos it aint ingrained
you see in london i knew what i was doing
plucking the bass
singing the songs
its like falling outta a tree for me
i am wired to do it
like driving a car
you just do it
but when i strum instead of play bass
its such a different thing
a wristy thing
the bass is all about fingers
not so much wrist action
mr humphries
look a mangey panther cant change his spots you know
anyway
wello was strange for me
i learnt that sometimes
my words n music will desert me
leave me hi n dry
n my humour fails
n im relying on sheer good will
tonite wello gave me it
n im thankful
they were a very nice bunch
thanks for yr patience wellotonians
tomorrow
well today actually
seeing its almost 2 in the morning
today
this evening
is christchurch
some one said
watch out there
there all working class riff raff there
i should be right at home then
jack the lad n his hi-jinks
send in the clowns
there ought to be clowns……;