CROSSING A LINE BETWEEN DANG & DO:
Walked all day between tube holes & rendezvous’, faces
bowed beneath relentless rhythm – hissing & black,
doorways crammed with smoking lips. Winter’s outrider
reclaims domain, the rain lays it’s marker down.
I was wet beneath the knees all day, slipping into
diner booths for sips on dirty lip stick cups. Hauling
fat bag & heavy machine, things I didn’t need, to comfort me.
Free wi-fi zones that never let me in, my bag’s full of
dead metal, my shoulder knot. I intended to cruise galleries
in the clear space aftermath of Saturday night’s RFH, but got
drawn back to gutter art & ready-mades. Bought RAW VISION,
bought too many papers, read too many reviews, I got suckered
by the news. Drifted into record shops, hooked on sound, now
I’m sat out in the fields listening to The Heads ‘Motorjam‘
up loud. It suits my mood, exactly how I feel. I’ve been
hearing this music in my head for months, unable to express it,
triggered by Melt-Banana when I wrote for the next edition of
EDDICT. Something about Trance-noise, a sonic landscape in my
head. It’s relentless beauty is a journey, embarrassed that it
took me this long to find it in The Heads –
‘Everybody Knows We Got Nowhere’.
Feels like I’m still scratching the surface.