Author Archives: karlhyde

Sunday 17th November

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THE LAST PICTURE SHOW:
 
Derby danced in the streets as TV celebrities switched on twinkling 
Christmas lights, the city swung into festive frenzy. Girls in 
tight black sleeveless dresses cruised the streets in packs, 
defying winter’s chill embrace. The Derby Quad greeted us with 
smiles & generosity, instantly making us feel at ease even though 
Leo’s guitar & lap top with all his sounds had been left back in 
Essex. Around artists as talented as him there’s no worry.
He just borrowed a lap top & guitar & created a whole new set of 
sounds, different yet just as beautiful. When the taxi arrived 
with his gear on board I was almost disappointed for him, though
he did sound fantastic with all his toys in place. Looking right, 
the familiar beaming smile of Peter Chilvers back behind the keys
where I’ve seen him since deep winter 2012. I realised how much 
I’d put off thinking about missing him, last it all felt right.
Family & friends from around the uk gathered in the Quad’s excellent 
cinema to soak up the messages from the people Kieran Evans 
interviewed for our film. Messages of hope in what we are told 
daily are dark times & yet….. the light still shines in the 
people of our Island.
Thank you to everyone who travelled to be with us last night, 
your support is huge.
 
(K)

Friday 15th November

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OUT EDGES REHEARSAL:
 
Great to be back playing between Leo Abrahams & Peter Chilvers.
Preparing for tomorrow’s performance of the Outer Edges 
score at Derby Quad. These two are a joy to play with 
every time, an honour & I’m so looking forward to taking 
the stage with them again. For all you who love Leo’s sound, 
he’s just released a sample library of all his sounds. 
 
(K)

Thursday 14th November

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AT THE HURRICANE HOTEL:
 
You sit on the terrace looking out across the Ocean to Africa
& the desert where you found happiness in simplicity & smiles. 
It’s just a state of mind, a motorcycle & an open road – 
a life time. Bring it home. You’ve been away for a life time. 
 
(K)

Wednesday 13th November

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DIAMOND SEASON IN GENEVA:
 
At the greasy spoon cafe we order bolognese for two, tap water, 
black coffee & something without a name. Maradona watches over us 
framed in blue, a face, a fashion from a memory. We talk about 
the day & catch up on the past, I say, 
“There’s a fabulous lyric at the other table”
A blind woman’s stories about her new boiler as another woman eats 
potato chicken.
“It’s so slim, so sleek, now I’ve got room to fit my hoover”
She puts on her lipstick with two hands. Guiding the pigment with 
the tips of her fingers, bright red & shiny, her face is radiant, 
she knows what she’s doing, been doing it for decades. Her hair is 
immaculate, she’s always here, that’s her table, she finishes & 
leaves. I don’t see her go, I just feel the cold of winter laughing 
through the open door.
 
(K)

Tuesday 12th November

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WHO WAS THAT GUY?:
 
Who was that guy talking to you on the train, trying to get you 
interested in a flat he had for rent? Buttering up your mother 
in the hope that he’d impress you with his sensitivity towards
the elderly & his graceful charm. 
 
(K)

Monday 11th November

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BENEATH THE CLOUDS:
 
Back roads off the M25 facilitate speedy reunions. Here comes
the rain & everything is green again. Trying to rendezvous with 
you before you leave, leaves still clinging to the trees as 
Autumn digs her heels in, refusing to a heed winter’s knock.
The colours sing a different hue here on the island  
to the one’s we harmonised with yesterday in a South American 
summer. Fabulous adventures conclude in fabulous homecomings, 
blessed to be a traveller with a home to return to.
 
(K)

Sunday 10th November

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WE TWO BOYS TOGETHER CLINGING:
 
Cruising for poetry & weirdness on the streets of Beautiful 
Buenos Aires. Last night, in the big field, surfing on the 
energy of 50,000 smiling faces. Rick pulls curves out the 
hat creating a new set on the fly, beats & grooves that take 
us higher than a substance-less boy should be able to go.
We play right up the the wire, curfew button being pressed as 
Rick dubs us out, we laugh, hugging, waving to the crowd, 
some of whom dance in bubble heads & catch out eye, some lost 
in blissed-out revery. Argentina is a beautiful place to be. 
we walk quiet back to the dressing room, grinning to each 
other in the dark, Rick leads us singing christmas songs 
on the the bus, there’s laughter. Back in the hotel bar I’m 
greeting by cheers & beaming faces,
 
“How do you do it Karl?!” they ask
 
I want to stop the world, put my arm around my brother & yell,
“Do you want to know my secret!?”
 
It’s in the groove, it’s always been in the groove. Without it
I couldn’t do what I do. The dance of good energy, surfing on 
smiles, the impossible, everything comes from the groove & 
the groove comes from my brother.
 
(K) 

Saturday 9th November

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YOU KNOW:
The the sound on stage was the worse in living memory,
so much smoke I forgot how to breath oxygen, a stage
littered with heavy black objects concealed in shadow,
equipment that worked in soundcheck but not during the
show, strobes so intense I thought I was fitting & a
throat on the verge of sandpapering it’s self into
sawdust. And yet…it was a beautiful gig.
Such energy coming back from the audience, crammed into
the hall, all smiling screaming, waving, sitting on the
shoulders of one another, shirts off, transcendent bikini
grins, security guards & crew that came up afterwards
to pose for pictures & grab an armful of sweat for which
I apologise. Santiago, Chile, you have never let us down,
always welcomed us with warmth & affection. Today we
climb back into the sky & fly to Argentina for tomorrow’s
Creamfields party -let’s get together & do it again
(K)

Friday 8th November

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CHILE:
 
Though it felt a long way from home as we came into land 
on the flight from Madrid & the first eight hour sleep in 
over a year, as soon as we’d touched down it felt instantly 
good to be back in Santiago. The light, the idiosyncratic 
colour pallet of low rise architecture, like something familiar 
from a Europe memory & yet not. We walked funky back streets,
photographed marks on walls, dripping paint, painted railings,
in districts of breezy student bars, simple restaurants & 
street cafes, tanning in the blissed out heat of high Spring, 
feeling the pressure drop.
A love of the arts is evident everywhere you look. 
Paintings on walls, intricate iron work, delicate graffiti 
& a national love of poetry that drew us to the home of 
Pablo Neruda where we lost ourselves amongst his eclectic rooms
stacked up the side of a hill crammed with his collections of 
world travelled souvenirs. 
The last time we were here in 2008 I bought a quatro & Rick & I 
recorded with it in our hotel rooms whilst the rest of the crew 
went white water rafting up in the mountains. This time I bought 
‘Residence on Earth’ a book by Pablo Neruda, digesting it in 
my room with the A/C off & the dubious luxury of a window that 
opened above a terrace where a mobile disco sprung into life.
This is a beautiful country, filled with gentle & inspiring people, 
a long way from home perhaps but so welcoming you could imagine 
home was just the other side of the hill.
 
(K)