WHEN THE WORDS ARE TOO CLEVER TOO LONG:
I got my porridge & tea. I got my car & radio, drive & surf
the airwaves, find a cafe, plot up & write every morning on
the way into the studio. I’m happy. I see Rick & I get happier,
I try & fail & it’s ok, because, tomorrow we do it again & it
all adds up. Some days something electric falls out, some days
sounds with no home to go to. The telephone rings & there are
only three people I answer on studio days with Rick.
I load the car with pedals & guitars, words written, inspired
by conversations with my mate. Sometimes we write them together,
it’s ALL ‘together’ to me, every conversation we have goes
direct into the bone, effects my ears, my choice of listening
as I walk the streets, the way I move my pen across the paper.
We work together, laugh together, get tired together, seven
days a week, planes, cars, buses, hotels, airports, festival
stages. There’s a look we pass between us, an electricity
transmitted in a grin, I have no idea where it came from or
what took it so long to get here, but now it’s got it’s own
front door key & can let it’s self in.
Essex looks beautiful today, like every day, smells good &
green & blacktop. I’ll miss it like I always do when we’re
away, but it’s too good to stay gone for long, hold my table
in the window at my favourite cafe, tell the waitress I’ll be
back, she knows my order, keep my guitars clean & tuned & ready,
when the plane touches down in London I’ll need to play them all,
no matter what the weather, I’ll be grinning, ear-to-ear –
keeping it simple.