SALTY:
The humour and the tragedy in discarded things, the slide and dance
of shadows, salty, wordy, history in a dirty place, a mudprint shoe,
a contrail story unedited to fit a brief, –
no column inches beyond this point.
(K)
IT’S NOT IN THE INTERVIEWS:
Never good at explaining what was in my head but thought if I
could express it in the things I collect you’d know what I meant,
the sounds of the colour things, objects in conversation
and the rhythm in the space between, can you hear it?
(K)
THE RHYTHM OF THINGS:
The pictures of cornfields aren’t pictures of cornfields
I don’t see corn I hear rhythm ,16s, 32s, 64s and I see dance
do you get what I mean?
(K)
DON CHERRY’S GROOVE:
In 1986 Rick n me were in New York for the first time and got
invited to a party on Bleeker Street where Don Cherry said
he’d give us a lesson in rhythm thanks to rick we’d bought this
massive Sony Hi-8 camera the latest thing to document the trip
and everything and Don asked us to use it to film him.
It was amazing, one of those unrepeatable moments I was unable
to believe was happening and we lost the tape.
(K)
HOW MANY LANGUAGES CAN YOU SPEAK?:
Don’t ask me the rain’s got things dancing.
(K)
YOU GIVE ME BRAIN-FREEZE:
A mountain with it’s head in a cloud night come creeping down
cars with automatic headlights search for things they lost without
names feel the wind as you get closer to the line we will cross
back over when it’s time to go back to the mad place.
(K)
THE VIDEO GUYS IS FILMING:
The video guys is filming you take some pictures for your mother
she knows everything ask her silver knife utopia everything is
shaking vibrating space soul.
(K)
AND YET IT’S BEAUTIFUL:
A painting of a castle hangs mid air above your coffee, tiny cars,
boats with noses, shadow birds, pink lights dancing circles on
the walls the Mysterons follow us around corners everything looks
wrong and yet it’s beautiful.
(K)
PHOTOGRAPH OF A FACE I USED TO OWN:
Black tea, chill, still, air, biting wind and I feel alive!
Cloud break for a Blue sky at the end of a day the beginning
of night the code the key to your door, ink on stone, photograph
of a face I used to own crow jumps out of tree.
(K)
WE ARE HERE AGAIN!:
That beautiful place sunlit on the mountain in the kitchen of
remembering, the turning looking back, the photographs,
a perfect circle, in the morning on the hill, Black turns Red
and all this sauce you ever wanted behind the Gold of your eyes.
(K)
Karl Hyde 