Nuclear Sail

"Out of my mind on Saturday night
1970 rollin' in sight
Radio burnin' up above
Beautiful baby, feed my love"

By the time 1971 rolled into sight I was brought into this planet. I'm not putting this in because I think it's worth blogging. I'm putting it in because I've definitely hit a transitional phase. No longer part of the "youth" zeitgeist, I can now listen to what I want to listen; read what I want to read; wear what is stocked in one of the two clothes shops I feel comfortable in (remember when Flip was good?) and believe what I want to believe as long as it doesn't question impending mortality. I would hate to be young now.

Because I'm the age I am I went to see Euros Childs a couple of nights ago and remembered all those Gorky's Zygotic Mynci albums and ep's I used to listen to. The first one I got was "If Fingers Were Xylophones" and it's title really was the Ronseal Woodstain of mid-90's Welsh folk-psychedeila to steal a much used metaphor. His first solo album is even better live and although I didn't think it possible I almost reached the ecstacy level gained from seeing Gorky's sing "Christina" a few years ago at the Liquid Rooms.

Small things like that can be a catalyst. I had been trying to record at Red Button last week but couldn't. "It" had gone. The music, the muse, the creativity, the whatever. That can get worrying because it can take a long time to come back. Luckily Wales' resident Madcap Laughs was the catalyst. I've been sitting writing quietly on the electric and a wee amp by the open window. There's a banjo song too called 'Nuclear Sail' at the moment. The title is from a piece by Ian Hamilton Findlay. I'm including submariners, trawlers and freshwater pearlfishers in this one. Freshwater pearlfishers (illegal now), or at least the one's that came from Blairgowrie, admitted to p*shing their pants to keep warm when wading through a river in the winter. Anything to get you through the day.