Author Archives: karlhyde

Thursday 21st March

Posted on March 22, 2013 by karlhyde

1

BACK IN THE BAND!:

 

Can’t help bursting into spontaneous laughter, early driving 

in the sun to clear the head as I loop back past the sign

that reads ‘Welcome to Essex’. It gets me every time, on the 

home run, Spring sun, life bursts out the ground to the sound

of hissing rubber on black top shimmering silver in the morning 

light. My brother’s & sister unload at the studio under a big 

benevolent sky, light streams into the room, dogs running between

their feet, the sound of laughter, the smell of toast & coffee. 

I’m still running on Mexico time, coming down from that familiar 

kick drum high, but I could think of no sweeter transition than 

to be back with my band again. 

 

(K) 

Wednesday 20th March

Posted on March 20, 2013 by karlhyde

4

LATE NIGHT SHOPPING:

 

Back to the thrill of freezing, I pulled into the 24hr store 

in search of the last Dark Chocolate Bounty Bar. Sadly, they 

appear to have gone the way of the Dodo in our absence, replaced, 

perhaps, in the current fad for megga-sizes by it’s more popular 

milk chocolate sibling. The 24hr store smelt of skunk, everyone 

looking sheepish. I choose to remain a different kind’ve out’ve it 

& not catch anyone’s eye. The felt ‘on edge’, I confirmed the 

absence of Dark Chocolate Bounty Bars & reversed out the door, 

leaving fellow shoppers at the check-out sweating beneath the weight 

of family-sized corn chip bags – one last wave from Mexico. Back in 

the car, I engaged central locking, turned the key & headed home to 

the music of the Mighty Wurlitzer Organ.

 

(see you on BBC 6Music – 09:10 GMT – I’ll try to be me)

 

(K)

Tuesday 19th March

Posted on March 19, 2013 by karlhyde

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HOME:

 

Essex looks more beautiful than I remember, even after sitting 

in a jam on the M25.

It was sunny & yet hailed on me as I stepped from the Taxi.

Was that just stupidity behind the grinning or genuine happiness

to be home on the prairies? Mexico City, you were a joy, everyone 

we met made us feel good, from behind the scenes crews to the 

audiences who traveled miles & paid hard earned money to see us. 

It’s good to be breathing air back at sea-level, but I still have 

this smile inside fuelled on cracks & colours of Mexico City, 

sucking 7 UP through plastic straws, dipping chips into home made 

Guacamole as the skin shed Winter in the sun. I hope we see each 

other again soon, till then I’m lying in the grass watching rain 

clouds fold their fingers in the sky.

See you tomorrow morning live on BBC 6 Music 9:30 am, a network & 

a station I love.

 

(K)

Monday 18th March

Posted on March 18, 2013 by karlhyde

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AND WHEN WE CALLED THEY CAME, CARRYING LIGHT WITHIN THEM:

 

You sang to every song, knew the words & melodies to everything.

You smiled, giving energy with such generosity that we looked

at each other & gasped. This wasn’t what I expected, the limbs,

once again, should’ve been tired, there should’ve been no 

dancing, only managing to sing between gasps for air & visits

to the oxygen tank at stage side – what do I know!?

You turned everything on it’s head, I’ve never danced so much!

Where did the oxygen come from? What kind’ve energy did you bring 

last night, those smiles could light a City or even (dare I say it) 

Change a World. Thank you Mexico City, may we meet again on the 

field of celebration soon. 

 

(today’s photo – from the outfront mixing desk by John Newsham)

 

(K)

Sunday 17th March

Posted on March 17, 2013 by karlhyde

1

LOVE THAT JET-LAG BOY:

 

Waking the past two nights on the hour all night.

Raggedy with a noisy head. My old familiar, that voice 

in an isolated head, a long way from home says, 

“Come down with me”. 

Vibrating skin, stinging body, eyeballs blurry, 

easy to get tetchy, a long way from home. It would be 

a fine excuse for a flip out, impatience fed on exhaustion, 

justified & grandios, but look….here’s the sun. sitting 

silently glowing goodfood for a tatty soul. Walk in the air, 

birdsong melodies, take a picture, do something good, tidy 

your room, re-pack your suitcase, practise for that Brighton 

Show yu got next week, you’ve been up all night thinking. 

The oxygen is rare today, there’s a hole where the battery 

used to be, a memory of a moody boy, jet-lagged uninvited.

Pass me a broom to sweep him out the door.

I need sugar, yeah, a little water sugar, dark brown 

like black & sticky in a red can. Hold it up to the blue

sky & take it’s picture, you never had it so good.

 

 

(K)

Saturday 16th March

Posted on March 16, 2013 by karlhyde

4

60,000 SMILES:

 

The oxygen tank was parked at the side of the stage, 

I knew I’d need it. Singing at altitude is like swimming

in treacle, add dancing to that & you guarantee collapsing,

or at least throwing up. We were rough, but roughness

brought with it something fresh, unpredictable, exhilarating.

60,000 pairs of hands raised in electric pure joy as the 

first kick drum dropped & the roar that went up to REZ’s

familiar ping-pong even riff cut through my cranked-up in-ears.

The feet started dancing of their own accord, I tried to 

make them stop, at least ‘slow down’, but they knew something

I didn’t. I sent my lungs apologies for the inappropriate conduct 

of the feet, but my lungs it seems were in cahoots. They kept 

pumping, finding oxygen where there was none & as I waited for

the voice to run out’ve runway it found some animal instinct 

I never knew existed. Disregarding all my protestations the 

body took over in celebration meditation, mouth grinning at

the blur of the feet, arms flailing in a high-hat wind. 

The oxygen tank, remained at the side of the stage as 

60,000 smiles sent three boys laughing into the night.

 

Thank you Mexico City

 

(K)

Friday 15th March

Posted on March 15, 2013 by karlhyde

1

A REMEMBERED LOVE OF DANCE:

 

Down at the stadium last night the hairs on the back of 

my neck stood up as Cowgirl’s kickdrum dropped. Altitude

robbed me of oxygen, so the feet’s desire to dance had to

wait. Working at this height above sea level leaves you 

strangely breathless, the head can’t really believe 

a scene so familiar could be so thin on breathable molecules.

I love soundchecking the night before a festival, watching 

forklifts distribute refrigerators to the beer stalls, 

lone skateboarders glide across the arena floor like kings, 

clouds of dust rise up from besoms, drovers of dirt movers 

choreographed to clean, do their dance across the arena 

herding particles with love & care to make everything 

just right for the feet of thousands. 

Riggers, the size of hills, push enormous metal barriers 

with ease, reducing tons to matchsticks. Hands that could

snap me like a twig tap in harmony with the high-hat,

feet move in time with the snare, bodies swaying in the 

breeze of a familiar sub bass groove, everybody smiling,

everything gets a little easier as the mood lifts us closer

to the time of joyous celebration. 

 

(K)

Thursday 14th March

Posted on March 14, 2013 by karlhyde

3

TWO HOUR BREAKFAST BUFFET:

 

Familiar faces smile sampling Mexican fare.

Breakfast laughter as yellow helicopters fly low over 

the city.

A little warmer, a little further from Essex, but here

in a hotel room south of the boarder a light burns for 

homeland. European dress code files into the lobby, 

the Brits are in town, shaking hands & laughing.

Gratitude in memory that we’re out here to dance & 

celebrate with tens of thousands of smiling faces, 

transmitters, carriers of good energy. It lights up

the world if we let it.

 

(K)

Wednesday 13th March

Posted on March 13, 2013 by karlhyde

4

FAT FLAKES FALL:

 

Even the sky doesn’t want us to leave Essex, emptying snow

onto us & putting on a light show more beautiful than I recall

in salmon pinks & dirty chalk purple cloud fingers. They part 

revealing blue sky as hedgerows glow orange facing sunrise like 

deckchair holiday makers on Southend Beach, Why would I want to 

leave? The excited, happy Mexican voices on the phone last night

reminded me. Time to grow wings again & cut clouds, time to

dance & celebrate the union of happy faces. People gathered

to give good energy, exchange a smile, raise hands in 

hallelujah & let the light in. Ah yes, ‘now’ I remember.

 

(K)

Tuesday 12th March

Posted on March 12, 2013 by karlhyde

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POTATO MAN MEMORY:  

 

Sheltering from a bitter wind in a high stool chain cafe,

a wind so cold it by-passed the bone going straight to

the soul. Bloodless knuckles clutched collars high round 

sinuous summer necks, isolated stares in throaty wools. 

Twenty minute lock out at Oxford Circus, crowds huddled 

like Arctic penguins without the etiquette of instinct to rotate 

outsiders to the middle. I watched an old potato, shrivelled like

a man, wrapped in every garment he possessed, held together like a

cartoon with string around the middle. I saw a man take solace 

from a tiny bottle, poke it’s head out like a tortoise from a ragged 

paper bag. This one didn’t use it as a walkie-talkie, nor was his 

poetry humorous, but long staring endless into time. Expressionless 

potato man pushed a greasy bundle towering on a barrow up the wind 

bleached pavement.

Hello, is that me with his lips around the teat like a newborn?

Was gratitude ever so cheaply forgotten, sheltering from a bitter

wind in a high stool chain cafe? 

 

(K)