I didn't write anything over the weekend. I don't know where it went!! It was a lovely weekend though and I managed to get the garden sorted out before autumn comes crashing in and strips the trees of their leaves. Despite the late summer weather it can't be long especially after we passed the Autumn Equinox last week. The dark nights will soon be drawing in. I also managed to get a little bit more work done on the "Blokezone" but not as much as I would have liked.
Another early start this morning as I had to go back to Tower Hill to finish shooting the video I started on Thursday last week. After arriving nearly 1 1/2 hours early last week I decided to set off a little later and thanks to an accident on the A2 I ended up being 15 minutes late - That's London traffic for you. I also managed to take this arty picture of tower Bridge using my camera phone
On the way to work this morning and during my journey back to my office I listened to two Grateful Dead albums. The two in question were two they recorded in 1970 Workingman's Dead and American Beauty. The albums are, I guess, in a style which would be called Americana now and quite unlike anything they had released up until that time. Gone was the electric acid dreched rock of their previous albums replaced by a stripped back simple country rock sound that would become a staple of bands like the Eagles and CSN&Y.
Two tracks stood out today - the first, harking back to my last post, reminded me of the style of the Kabir poem. Ripple could be seen as a quasi-religious song although it doesn't specify any religion. Whereas the Kabir poem says
the music from the strings that no one touches
with ripple you get
my tunes were played on the harp unstrung
I got to thinking about my unspecified religious leanings and how I could add the following to my list of life guidances.
Ripple in still water
When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow
Reach out your hand if your cup be empty
If your cup is full may it be again
Let it be known there is a fountain
That was not made by the hands of man
There is a road, no simple highway
Between the dawn and the dark of night
And if you go, no one may follow
That path is for your steps alone
The other song that struck me was Brokedown Palace which was the last song I heard a member of the Dead sing live. It's such a beautiful song that I want it played at my funeral
Fare you well, fare you well
I love you more than words can tell
Listen to the river sing sweet songs
To rock my soul
Over the weekend I found a site by someone called topofthestairs who said they ahd listened to Roy Harper for the first time and was looking for guidance. I suggested some songs but Roy had got into my head and so I listened to some of his songs on the way home tonight.
If I had to describe Roy Harper it would be as the Don Quixote of the English music scene, always tilting at the windmills of religion and politics with little more than a guitar and a few words. His lyrics are often like a conversation with someone who has taken too many drugs but he still finds a way to get his message across and touch your heart at the same time.
McGoohans Blues was one of the songs that I listened to, it's the first of his epics and durings it's course rails at everything from society to religion
And the bankers and tycoons and hoarders of money and art
Fill up with baubles and bibles and full of no heart
Who travel first class on a pleasure excursion to fame
Are the eyes that are guiding society's ludicrous aim.
And the village is making its Sunday collection in church
The church wobbles twixt hell and heaven's crumbling perch
Unnoticed the money box loudly endorses the shame
As the world that Christ fought is supported by using his name.
That last line gets to me eveytime and kind of sums up everything I feel about the Christian Church as we know it today. But don't worry I'm not going to get into that again (well not today anyway).
The song that was playing as I pulled up outside the Big Blue House was one that was quite apt given the Ashes victory and the end of the cricket season. When an Old Crickter Leaves the Crease is a marvelous celebration of an England that no longer exists (and may never have done of course). On this he is backed by the Grimethorpe Colliery Brass Band which adds to the timeless feel of the song.
There'll be one mad dog and his master, pushing for 4 with the spin
I can see it now, Sunday afternoon scoring for the local cricket side
Batsman: "Put the scoreboard right"
Me after checking: "It is right!"
Drinks and sandwiches at tea. A slower pace of life.
But did it really exist?