Author Archives: karlhyde

Wednesday 1st May

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MAYDAY-MAYDAY:
 
Beautiful & chill, a light that reminiscent of mornings in LA –
a promise of Summer. Last night, with headphones in the kitchen, 
we reviewed recordings of that ‘Solo’ solo show I did back in Tokyo 
– a voice, a mic, an iPad & a borrowed guitar. I found a place where 
my dealer the kick-drum don’t go & it got me thinking, re-imagining 
John Martyn, Richard Thompson, Michael Rother, Robert Fripp – 
iPad as a pedal board, a single voice intertwined with the wires of 
a six-string processed in an electronic wind. 
Now I’m riding the rails into the Emerald City again, music & film
on my mind, listening to Jenny Hval’s ‘Innocence is Kinky‘
 
(K)

Tuesday 30th April

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SLEEPING WITH THE MOON:
 
Didn’t sleep last night, the moon was way too bright, 
outside & inside my head. It’s silver light generating 
thousands of tiny whispers. Typing at 4:00 am.
 
(K)

Sunday 28th April

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REMEMBERING RICHIE: 
 
You may have thought it odd I didn’t comment on the passing of
my musical hero Richie Havens last week. Hit me so hard, dropped
in conversation in the middle of an interview at BBC Radio 4 it
was like a bad edit…’did I just hear what I thought I heard?!’.
He was the first guitarist whose style imprinted on me, the
infectious, uplifting energy of his rhythm playing got into my 
blood as a young boy – maybe the first of a series of powerful 
imprints I soaked up. Practising in my bedroom without a clue 
how to do anything I recalled his polyrhythmic changes in 
direction as he strummed with such passion that it seemed his 
life depended on it & that too impressed me – he was the real 
deal. His walk on at Woodstock, playing even before the vast 
crowd could hear him & leaving the same way was another lesson
from the master, the message?, ‘you’re not doing this to be 
famous, you’re doing it because it’s vibrating in your bones &
has to get out into the world’.
Our meeting years later in a Bologna dressing room beneath the 
town hall was (thankfully) too much of a surprise for me to make 
a fool of myself in front of him & say anything but,
“Thankyou Mr Havens” as he extended a giant gentle hand & 
shook my tiny trembling offering. I’ll not forget the light in
his eyes, nor the passion of his rhythms.
 
(K)

Saturday 27th April

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THE SMELL OF TOUCHLINE:
 
The raw of the grass, the rhythm of animated conversation under 
a sky of pale blue milk. Back on earth, shuffling foot-to-foot, 
front row flasks of tea, bacon rolls with sauce – red or brown?
Football.
 
(K)

Friday 26th April

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RE-UNION CHAPEL:
 
The band woke up in a heap on the floor of a London flat
as I pondered the pain of a feedback loop in my head out 
in Essex. An overdose of euphoria, it seems, is comparable 
to a night on the lash, no sweat, it’s a far sweeter hang-over 
so thank you for keeping me topped-up all night. 
Everything about the evening was uplifting, from the hard work 
of the crew, to the staging, lights & sound & Faroa’s stunning 
opening performance, it all contributed to a mood so positive 
you could’ve surfed on it…so we did. 
Off to the BBC now to talk to America.
 
(K)

Thursday 25th April

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COMING HOME TO LONDON:
 
Riding another train to the Emerald City, echoes of yesterday’s
radio session make me smile, yeah, I’m sucker for radio, still
the kid underneath the bed covers with an ear pressed up to tiny
speakers, scribbling names in the dark.Thanks to everyone at the 
BBC for giving goodtimes, Steve & Newsh on the Mix & Mal beating 
the live gear into submission so that the kids in the band could
come out to play. 
Tonight, we come home to London. a lineage of faces that stretch 
from the Marquee Club 1983 to the Union Chapel tonight, friends
giving their support & energy throughout a long & extraordinary 
journey. See if you can get there by 8:00pm to hear Faroa, she’s 
been touring with us since Brighton & we love her sound.
 
(K) 

Wednesday 24th April

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RADIO RADIO:
 
Ride the train to the Emerald City remembering not to sit on
the sunny side or you’ll get fried. Breath the dust of millions
gliding in the tube beneath the rhythm of their feet, 
slipping out the hole on Oxford Street, cacophony & glorious 
noise. Colours collide making music, shapes jump out’ve sounds & 
buildings generate words that fall close to the ear, whispering.
I’m attracted to all these things, nothing melancholy here os 
ever was. Neither on these streets nor looking out’ve trains 
windows watching it all slip by did I ever feel anything but joy
for the polyrhythmic tumbling of images & sounds, smells & tastes
& beautiful poetry gifted to us daily. 
I’ve got a bag full of new records to play to you, pages full of 
links to share, memories of extraordinary people whose stories 
I wrote down as we toured through Europe – but first….
me & the band got a broadcast to do on BBC 6 Music, 12 noon (UK)
 
See you in the web waves
 
(K)

Monday 22nd April

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BLOSSOM’S BIG COMEBACK:
 
Blue sky hallelujah on day release from air conditioned
dry throat singing, breathing clean air. Naked twigs burst
into colour & Springs reluctant flowering has changed it’s
tune. The scent of euphoria drifts into view & fields hum 
with the vibration of concealed new life on the verge.
Edgeland is out today they say racked in the shops that
remain, God bless ’em.
I feel like I’ve been run over today, missing friends,
missing brain cells, missing. Times like this it’s best
to take the bins out. 
 
(K)