Here, then, are the sad songs I promised last week. Hope you're happy now!
Mountain Goats - Wild Sage
At the bus stop on the Strand outside Somerset House. A sparse and random rain falling. It's a dark Thursday evening after the cinema. Even the drops dripping on my dust streaked work hoodie seem isolated, lonesome.
Joan Baez - Once I Knew A Pretty Girl
A gibbous moon hung low over the city. It dwarfed and outshone the lights from the financial district at Canary Wharf. Got obscured behind dark profiles of buildings closer to the train. Was ignored by most of the other passengers in preference to their smartphones. Tiredness seeped in through my limbs and up to the cerebellum. My head slumped forward, and I dreamed.Eric Chenaux - Summer & Time
Skypecalls and WhatsApp messages. Scribbles and to do lists. Almost getting transfixed by twitter feuds and music news, but managing at last to break away and squeeze in a chapter of rural prose before sleep. And suddenly a childhood memory appears.
Nancy Wilson - Guess Who I Saw Today
I was in the garden. I composted the compost. Weeded the weeds. Surveyed my domains. Stood still. The robin appeared. Then a blue tit. Wood pigeons. A cat. Two blue tits. One great tit. No coal tits today. Three feral pigeons. Parakeets swooped through. I subdued myself. Put my self into brackets. Attempted to forget who I was amongst this uproar of life. Tried to stop worrying and doubting for just a little while. But it came back later.
Miles Davis - All Blues
Work makes sense. Going running makes sense. Drawing makes sense despite all. Words literally make sense. John Coltrane's saxophone makes no sense and therefor all sense. Miles transcends. Like Joanna Newsom sang in the song that shall be played at the end of all of this: transmit. transcend.
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