TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE

hic labor hoc opus est
i put on the big fat warm comforting phones
which have served me so well
open up my latest work in progress
a vocal-less backing track
sit back and close my eyes
i listen out for aural quality
the sounds that breathe
the instruments that compliment each other
the melodies and counterpoints that set each other off
the subtle harmonic variation
the chords within other chords
inverted chords i've no idea what to name
the flaws and the glitches that need attending to
the things that need rerecording or remixing
or panning to the left right or centre
but finally after two weeks of work
here n there
late at nite
over my elevenses
i like what i hear
my brother walking by the other day says:
'wow! hypnotic and dream-like'
well that's exactly what i wanted to hear
the compressed rhythm guitar insistent and ringing
the synth alternately rising and falling
the cymbals slowly getting louder
the lead guitar groping out into the darkness
from the centre of the stereo spectrum
pretty arpeggios of chorused guitar chiming in
suddenly an unsung chorus reached
everything coming to a momentary stop
a C chord intrudes and startles a la ticket to ride
and suddenly the whole thing changes tempo
galloping forward with a jolt into the next verse
my favourite part comes in the middle 8
the bit where john and paul always helped each other out
on the other one's song
just listen to that 'i love you, i love you' bit on michelle
suddenly the chord changes go haywire
the guitars cross backwards and forwards across the spectrum
a sinuous lead guitar part binds the whole thing together
and then we're back to a shortened verse and chorus again
later when i've got some p and q and the house to myself
i'll overdub the vocal
always the troublesome bit
when the chickens come home to roost...
today i visited a secondary school
to tell it like it is to some adolescent kids
about ye olde climate change
most of the kids weren't bad actually
some of them had lots of questions
a few of them didn't give a monkey's of course
olde papa fireseede there
preaching to these youngsters about ethics
waving the 'pointing stick of truth' at em
easily old enough to be these kids' daddy
a kind of father figure to some of em i guess
to get there
i cycle 10 miles from one side of the city to the other
taking the backstreet root
avoiding the russia-hour traffic snarls as best i can
fireseed walking the walk
(or riding the ride)
not just talking the talk
from moseley to hall green
through acock's green and yardley
retracing the route to my nan's house
the one i used to cover in the old white ford escort
when i went to pick her up for a visit
i used to time the journey
18 minutes was my record!
on the way back
i turn into vibart road
then farnol road
and freewheel down to number 21
where my dad was brought up during the war
i haven't been back since nan left in the early 90s
a solid 1930s brick house
with stained glass windows
and an attractive lintel over the door
unfortunately defaced by upvc windows and guttersnipes
the well-kept little front garden replaced by solid paving
space for cars
down at the yew tree
i pass a little shop
where i used to buy cupcakes for nan's and my tea
another time
another world
what would she make of it now?