FIRST SOMETHING BLACK BETWEEN THE STARS:
Picking banjo in a bower of fairy lights. Thinking about delay-lines,
machines I experimented with as a kid. Early tape-echoes, 1960’s,
why did I stop? Last night, sat on the bonnet of the car, alone
between the fields, beneath a full sky of stars. Engine running,
flask of black stuff steaming , practising new tunes for the tour,
stopping cars that wound down windows to shout their names.
The stars & the car & the engine running, the black stuff & the music
playing turned negative positive – new stuff feels good.