I’ve still got it.
I’m still on the margins.
I’m still an outsider, attracted to the Avante Garde.
I thought I’d gone a bit staid
but after a quick dash to London to see my mum
(she’s just had a knee op)
I got a call from an old mate who I used to make weird music with 35 years ago, in his garage with a broken mic, a tape recorder and an echo box and whatever record or junk was lying about.
He asked if I fancied going to a gig that was a bit different?
That’s how I ended up on a hot Sunday in a dark tunnel with no more than 30 people, listening to music that sounded like drilling that didn’t make your ears ring.
I enjoyed the meditative qualities of the resonances bouncing off the walls, but it was a 9-hour gig. I couldn’t take more than an hour.
Maybe I’m not as edgy as I thought.