THE CURSE OF MUSIC:

The Beautiful dirt you leave for me to find, is a paper trail
I follow, into the far north, working with brother Fred Gibson
on a songwriting master class with the youth of another town,
each one inspiring in their own right, pumped on enthusiasm
for the thing I love & how do I express the gratitude I feel
to be in the presence of their passion for music, going public
with their ideas, no matter how embarrassing, to see each one
overcome themselves reminds me of the kid I was, crushingly
self conscious, introverted, shy, unable to converse, couldn’t
meet anyone new without turning inside out. Music, was the only
route out’ve the dark hole, still is to this day & today,
listening to all these young dreams laid bare in company I was
lifted. Courage like that is an honour to witness, filled my
tank up, took me right back to the root of why I chose this road,
or did it choose me?, Lucky to be still here not only with loyal
friends of years, but welcomed into their circle of inspiration,
& new friends found along the road like Fred – today.
Wish you could’ve been there, heard their songs, every one of them
from the heart. Personal is the only way forward, no time to waste
on a life of imitation, sing what’s going on with you.
The more personal it is the more universal it becomes.
As we left this house, early in the rain, car loaded with studio
& more than a little trepidation, we both turned to one another,
bleary & spontaneously burst into grinning,

“I bloody love music”

Start the engine.

(K)