Guess what?

I’ve still got it.

I’m still on the margins.

I’m still an outsider, attracted to the Avante Garde.

 

I thought I’d gone a bit staid

but after a quick dash to London to see my mum

(she’s just had a knee op)

I got a call from an old mate who I used to make weird music with 35 years ago, in his garage with a broken mic, a tape recorder and an echo box and whatever record or junk was lying about.

He asked if I fancied going to a gig that was a bit different?

That’s how I ended up on a hot Sunday in a dark tunnel with no more than 30 people, listening to music that sounded like drilling that didn’t make your ears ring.

I enjoyed the meditative qualities of the resonances bouncing off the walls, but it was a 9-hour gig. I couldn’t take more than an hour.

Maybe I’m not as edgy as I thought.