THE ROADS ARE MADE OF SLATE:
The charcoal marks between the fields turn grey,
frozen black looses confidence, becoming less bold about
town.
Green fields & the browns of succulent mud hide beneath
thin blankets of snow again, peppered by holes for
the earth to breath. This latest deluge isn’t so bad,
won’t disrupt rehearsals so I’m happy. It even looks
familiar, like the drawing winter always was to me.
Perhaps I found my muse again, watching late night
documentaries on Dr Feelgood, images of of Canvey Island,
the seductive curves of concrete sea walls along
the Thames Delta. Wilko Johnson sends me to bed,
wide-eyed staring, on surfboards of staccato
telecasters. I never thought I’d be a Fender man,
loved Marshalls & Gibsons too much. The 335’s & 330’s of
Big Brother & the Holding company, The gutterral
confidence of Eric Clapton’s sound at Cream’s farewell.
Clipped & confident distortion of overdriven valves,
Alvin Lee’s ‘Goin’ Home’, Stevie Marriott’s bar room stadium,
the Beatles waving goodbye on the roof. Terri Kath’s SG,
‘Freeform Guitar’, ‘I’m A Man’, on the ‘Chicago Transit Authority’
album, Tony TS McPhee’s Cherry Red SG on the ‘Spilt’.
Aspiring to own a Les Paul, knowing that I’d never have the money,
being allowed to hold one as a boy, a ton weight in tiny hands.
Going into the Manny’s, New York for as SG & asking the shop assistant
if I could compare it with,
“Maybe that white Les Paul next to it”, shocked I could afford it,
walking out onto 48th street like a king.
I never thought I’d be a Fender man, but then again, once heard,
Steve Cropper’s solo on ‘Green Onions’, was forever in my blood.
So clear the road, load the Telecasters in the car, book of words,
diagrams of chords, faith in fingers & throat. Start the engine,
get the coffee on, I’m looking forward to rehearsing with the band
& the smiling faces.
(Start the day listening to Splashgirl’s new album –
‘Field Day Rituals‘, out soon on the Hubro label)
(K)
Karl Hyde 
OMG Karl, You are Feeling the Now in the Future of Your Being, Even Though the Past Swirls Inside You, It’s Becoming a New Place….Luv You, B.