the arcadian night

Love, drinking deep in his hush

decreed a banquet in exile under the meridian stars

then draped in crimson under the foreshadowing trees

he  clapped for his rock and roll to be summoned

all dappled as he was in the moonish light

all suckered by the glimmering points in blackness of a total sky

vibrato fingered love : flesh upholstered leisure master

the unbridling of the tropical sea

i call it the white sea said Love

oh love we do not dare to displease thee answered the ripplish waves

and so Love clapped his divine  hands again

his royal chubby fingers in so delighting the baby angels in the trees

where oh where is my sweet rock and roll ? he thundered under his breath

then the drummer appears to a mighty roar from the assembled little deities

he sits down at the kit and begins to play

hes a real walloper

bang boom bang boom boom bang bang crash

yes thats it …!

Love cries out and leaps up from his fairy dust encrusted throne

the bass guitar is so fucking obvious…man….

but thats what you adore about it

its simple its like sex it just hammers away…8th notes…

the drums and the bass maintain cruising altitude for a while

they lock in inexorably and you feel like your in the presence of…..

and then oh sublime…!

2 electric guitars enter permanently intertwined around the other

like snakes around a staff

or like spirit wraiths chained together yet aching to be free

Love lives in his void but the music rushes into fillet

no one can explain rock and roll..!

Love smiles gently within the island night

the guitars contradict and refute each other

they are opposites or they are twins

one minute one thing next minute something else

the originality of their sound

the bold virtuosity of the playing

the clever use and restraint of technology

the way the 2 guitars come together at times and sound like an orchestra

the way they sometimes attempt to deny the others existence

the sheer volume that ricochets around in your skull

these things defy analysis

they achieve their effect not as an analogous picture of the real world

they themselves are hyper real and their reality supersedes most others

and then the voice….

sing it out …! yells Love from his balcony

Love has the best seats in the open roofed house

the words are unexpected

they seem to be talking to you

the voice is confidential

mentioning matters you thought were strictly your own

it comes in waves as some strange effect causes tremolo in the songs throat

one paradox is the songs simultaneously anthemic yet intimate nature

huge and sleek and fast and distant

then suddenly

fragile and hesitant and blurry and near

a certain combination of notes and chords

a certain combination of words

this music is sending me there ….Love again

and now he hears the piano which shudders on the beat

the authoritative lower register

the plaintiff tinkling up high

and other instruments too now discernible

the harp caught in the percussion

the violins which stand off   making quick stabs

the lonely lost flute buried in the background only sometimes coming thru

more voices singing in round to the first singer

an unusual harmony to his melody adds a poignant urgency

my favourite band….EVER!  thus spake Love king of the balmy night

and so the piece of music undulates and meanders throughout the silence

a river of song containing all its reeds and mouths

a life without music is a waste of time said nietzsche

there is no life without music !says Love crying his soft tears

and with that

the curtain falls